Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“More serious than being held captive by three dangerous men?” I snap, wrapping my arms around my middle.
He runs his hand over his head and clutches the back of his neck, eyes burning. “We can’t keep you safe if our minds are between your legs. Can’t you see that?”
I blink and he huffs, frustration rolling off him in waves. “You have to understand. It’s for your own good to keep your distance. You’re in real danger. It’s not a game.”
“I know I’m danger, Antonio. I know who you are.” I narrow my eyes and grit my teeth, as my heart picks up.
His expression darkens. “I don’t mean from us. I mean from your father.”
Everything inside me turns to stone.
“My father?” My breath is shallow, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You’ve heard from him?”
Antonio nods, rubbing a hand down his face before meeting my gaze again. “Before we left the penthouse, he sent a bunch of roses. Tied up with a bullet.”
“A bullet?” The room tilts, and I reach blindly for the mattress to steady myself.
“Your name was carved into the side,” Antonio adds grimly.
A tremor runs through me, my stomach twisting painfully. “How do you know it was from him?”
“He signed the card with a C.”
A choked noise escapes my throat, and I drop my face into my hands as my entire body begins to shake.
Antonio’s footsteps are heavy against the old wooden floor as he moves closer. The mattress dips beneath his weight, his presence a solid, grounding force.
“Aemelia,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. His hand slides over my shoulder, tracing a slow path down to my elbow, stroking over and over. The warmth of his touch, the steady repetition—it’s meant to soothe, but it only makes my breath hitch harder. “It’s okay. We’ll keep you safe.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I have to tell him. It’s not fair that he believes Carlo has made contact. They’re hiding out here to protect me but from the wrong person. “The flowers… they’re not from my father.”
Antonio stills.
His hand tightens just slightly, his fingers flexing against my skin. “What do you mean?”
Swallowing hard, I force myself to meet his gaze. “In Maryland, I used to work with this guy named Cohen. I was friendly with him, like I am with everyone, but he took it the wrong way. When he asked me out and I turned him down, he became fixated on me.”
Antonio’s face becomes granite, his jaw locking.
I keep going, needing to get it all out. “He started following me. Leaving gifts outside my front door. Calling my phone, bombarding me with messages. It was overwhelming, but I wasn’t worried at first. He was just some guy I knew. I thought it was sad… that he’d get bored.”
Antonio’s lip curls, but he doesn’t speak.
“Then, one day, he saw me with a male friend… and he flipped out. That’s when the threats started. Stuffed bears with their heads ripped off. A box of chocolates with a knife stabbed through the packaging. Blood red roses with a bullet tied to the ribbon, and a card scrawled with the letter C.”
Antonio’s breathing grows heavier, his fingers curling into my skin.
“I reported him to the police, but they didn’t do anything. No proof that the threatening gifts were from him.” My voice is hollow, each word scraping its way out of me. “Then, my aunt worsened, and we had to leave. I thought I left it behind. I thought I was free of him.” I shake my head, my vision blurring. “But he followed me.”
Antonio mutters something vicious in Italian, his entire body rigid with fury.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice is sharp now, demanding.
I bark out a laugh, but it’s humorless. “Tell the three crazy men who bought me at auction and trapped me in their tower about my stalker?”
He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before brushing a tear from my cheek with surprising gentleness. “We’re not crazy, Aemelia. We just want justice—for Mario, and now for you.”
I blink, my pulse roaring in my ears. “What do you mean?”
Antonio leans in, his voice dropping, dark and lethal. “This Cohen. I want you to tell me everything you know about him.”
A chill runs down my spine. “Antonio—”
His fingers tighten on my chin, forcing me to hold his gaze. “I promise you; we’ll make him go away.”
I flinch back. “Go away… or go away?”
His lips tilt into something that might be called a smile if it weren’t so cold, so full of malice for the man who terrified me. “You don’t need to worry about anything, bella. Just tell me his name, where he works, any information.”
I bite my lip, but he fixes me with a look that brooks no argument. I either do as he says willingly, or he’ll find a way. I tell him and he rises to his feet with smooth, calculated ease, his shoulders squared, his expression unreadable.