She shook her head. “He didn’t.”
“Then why did he bring you to his apartment?” he asked.
“I... I don’t know. He just wanted to talk to me, I think.” She licked her lips. This was working. “He said he has to keep me safe to get what he wants.”
It was a white lie, but the stakes were too high to stand on principle. Maybe Nico had insinuated that keeping her alive only mattered as long as he got what he wanted from her father. But he would get it, and he had said that it was better for his business to keep her alive.
The seconds seemed to tick into infinity. Dante’s eyes glazed over as he thought about what she said. She sensed a reprieve, and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest while she waited for him to speak.
Finally, he let go of her hands and stepped back. The confusion cleared from his eyes, replaced by disgust as he looked at her.
“You better hope Daddy comes through. And if he doesn’t, you better hope Nico doesn’t ask me to deal with you.”
He took one last look at her chest, covered only by her white lace bra. Then he left, locking the door behind him.
She stumbled to the bed, tears of relief stinging her eyes. It had been a close call. Too close. She’d been lured into a sense of safety—physical safety anyway, let’s not talk about the danger her body had been getting her into—at Nico’s apartment. Now she felt her vulnerability all over again.
She was at their mercy. All of them.
Where are you, Dad? Get me out of here.
When her breathing had returned to normal, she dug through her purse for the two small safety pins she kept in the change compartment of her wallet. They wouldn’t make up for the loss of her buttons, but they were better than nothing. She pinned her blouse closed and took inventory of her injuries.
The arm hurt, but she could move it. She’d have a nasty bruise, but at least it wasn’t broken. She carefully touched her wrists, still feeling the sting of Dante’s iron grip. Maybe a bruise there, too. But she was alive, and she hadn’t been raped. She would make it to see another day. At this point, it felt like a gift.
She curled up on the bed, hugging her purse to her chest, breathing in the scent of her old life. She thought of David, of his warmth and kindness, his pain over the fact that their father couldn’t accept him. She thought of her father’s stubborn strength, his refusal to let either of them in after their mother’s death. She had been the glue that held them together. Without her, they were puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit. Angelica had always assumed they’d have the time to figure it out. Now she couldn’t help wondering if that was true.
But it wasn’t her family that drifted through her mind in the moment before she finally fell into sleep. It was Nico. She remembered his arms around her at the apartment and realized something; she hadn’t been afraid. Not once had she believed he would take her by force. Instead he’d looked at her with his amber eyes, and she would have sworn he would never hurt her.
And that he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt her either.
13
Nico sat in the chair behind his desk, silently rolling the rosary beads through his fingers. His mother would be offended that he never said the rosary prayer. His complicated relationship with his faith wouldn’t allow for the hypocrisy of it, but he enjoyed the feel of the cool beads between his fingers. It was a kind of meditation, and he kept a rosary stashed in his desk at home, at the office, even in his cars.
He was ashamed at the turn of his thoughts. Not because of the infamous guilt wielded by the Catholic church to keep its members in line, but because his preoccupation defied every ounce of his business acumen.
He should not be thinking about Angelica—Angel—right now.
Not the way he was thinking about her.
But he couldn’t seem to help himself. The creaminess of her skin still glowed in his mind like a pearl, the perfect heaviness of her breasts in his hand, the point of her nipple rising to a peak under his tongue. It was all there whether he wanted it to be or not.
He’d prowled his apartment in the dark after she left, feeling like he would jump out of his skin if he didn’t have her. He’d taken a cold shower, even watched TV, something he hadn’t done in at least a year. Still she’d been front and center in his mind, and he’d finally gone to bed, tossing and turning until the sunrise started to sweep the horizon pale orange. Then he’d gone for a run along the river, hoping the pounding of the pavement under his feet would banish her from his mind.
None of it had done a damn bit of good.
“You need to get laid, Nico,” he whispered to the empty room.
Saying it made him feel better. That was the source of the problem. A man with his appetites needed release on a regular basis. A very regular basis. It had been too long. He would call his favorite escort service tonight, let off some steam.
He stood, dropping the beads into the top drawer of his desk. He walked to the window and looked out over the leafy suburban street lined with brownstones.
Carlo’s daughter was just like everything else he did—all business. Learning about her last night had been an interesting diversion, but it was time for something more substantial. Nico had put the word out that he had something belonging to Carlo. He’d made it known that if Carlo wished its safe return, he would contact Nico within the week.
And yet they still hadn’t heard from the bastard.
Word on the street was that he was in hiding, and no one seemed to know where the man was holed up. Nico was tired of waiting. And he was doubly tired of babysitting Carlo’s daughter.
He turned to grab his suit jacket. He was slipping it on when he met Luca in the stairwell, holding a paper bag and heading for the basement.
“Morning,” Nico said. “What are you up to?”
“Taking breakfast to Angelica.”
Nico raised his eyebrows. “Angelica?”
Luca shrugged. “It doesn’t seem right to keep calling her ‘the girl’.”
Was Luca Cassano blushing? Nico didn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed by Angel’s ability to incite protectiveness in one of his most trusted men.
When they got to the basement, Nico put a hand on Luca’s shoulder. “Why don’t you give that to me?”
Luca hesitated, before handing over the bag of food.
Nico clapped the other man’s shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt her,” he said. “For now.”
“It’s nothing to me,” Luca said.
Nico didn’t make a big deal of the lie. Luca could hold his own with any man in Nico’s army, but unlike some, he had a conscience. Hurting people was something he only did out of necessity, and he’d been one of the fiercest advocates for Nico’s sweeping changes of the family.
Nico appreciated Luca’s moral restraint. Violence was best administered by those who truly understood its consequences.
“We still haven’t heard anything from Carlo. I’m going to put some heat on Angel—Angelica. See if she might know where he’s hiding.”
“Got it.” If Luca noticed Nico’s slip, he didn’t say anything about it. “Want help?”
“I can handle it.”
“I’m going to get in a workout then,” Luca said. “Unless you need me for something else.”
“I’m good,” Nico said, already turning to make his way down the hall.
He continued to the closed door and withdrew a set of keys from his jacket pocket, then unlocked the door and stepped inside. Angel bolted up from the bed. He’d obviously woken her up.
He shut the door behind him. No need to lock it; Angel wasn’t going anywhere he didn’t want her to go.
“Good morning,” he said, putting the food on the desk. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”
Keeping his voice professional wasn’t easy. She was sleepy and rumpled, her hair a mass of tousled waves around her delicate face. Sex hair. He banished the thought as soon as it hit him, but it was too late. He already felt the stirring of desire in his b
lood.
She didn’t say anything, and when he stepped closer, he knew immediately that something was wrong. There were purple smudges under her eyes, and she was at least two shades paler than she’d been in his apartment. Then he saw her blouse, the one he’d left for her last night, and the two safety pins barely keeping it closed.
He was taking in the rest of her, trying to stop the tide of rage building inside him, when his gaze stopped on her arm. It was ringed with deep violet, clearly left by someone’s hand.
“What happened?”
She flinched, and he realized his voice had gone cold. It was the voice he used for the worst of his business associates, the ones Nico didn’t think twice about hurting. He hadn’t meant to use it with Angel, but the sight of her scared, wounded, caused a visceral reaction in him, and he had to fight the urge to put his fist through one of the walls.
She turned her face away. “Nothing.”
He stepped closer and took her chin in his hand, gently tipping her face up until she was looking at him. “Tell me.”
“I guess your friends expect you to share.” She spat the words at him, her eyes defiant.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Please elaborate.”
“Let’s just say Dante wanted in on the action after I left your apartment last night.”
Her voice was calm and steady, but he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. It made him admire her all over again. It was one thing to be too stupid to be scared. It was something else to be terrified and keep your head up anyway.
“Did he touch you?”
She glanced down at her arm. “You could say that.”
“You know what I mean.”
“He didn’t rape me, if that’s what you’re getting at. But only because I lied.”
“How so?”
“I told him you wouldn’t like it if he did,” she said.
“That’s an understatement.” Nico thought he might snap from the fury flooding his body. He took a deep breath and stepped back from her. “Are you alright?”
“Am I alright?” There was a hint of hysteria in her laughter. “I’m as alright as I can be imprisoned in this room, wondering if every day is the day I’m going to die. Or worse.”
He nodded. “I’ll have Luca bring you some clothes. You have my word that you’ll never see Dante here again.”
He left the bag of food on the desk and headed for the door, anxious to reach the hall before his temper got the best of him.
Stepping outside the room, he locked the door and strode to the stairwell. His mind cleared as he took the steps two at a time, the anger that had made him feel hot and out of control receding to make room for cold, hard fury as he headed for the gym.
He burst through the doors and stopped, taking inventory of the bodies occupying the space. Luca was beating on a heavy bag while Marco worked with the Judo coach nearby. In the boxing ring, Gideon and Anthony circled each other, taking jabs when they could get one in.
He turned his eyes to the free weights, his gaze coming to rest on Dante, laying mid-press on one of the benches.
Peeling off his jacket, Nico tossed it aside as he strode across the floor. His soldiers were starting to notice his arrival, but he ignored their greetings, homing in on Dante like a heat-seeking missile, then grabbing hold of his right leg and pulling him out from under the bar in one smooth motion.
Dante lost his grip on the bar, and it crashed to the bench, narrowly missing his head, on its way to the floor.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the fuck…” It was all he had time to say before Nico threw him to the ground, silencing him with a series of punishing punches to the face.
Nico felt none of the rage he had felt in the basement with Angel. Now the stormy sea of his mind was dead calm, nothing in it but the satisfaction of hearing the bones in Dante’s face crunch under his fists. He punched and punched. He punched until Dante stopped moving, until his eyes were closed and he thought Dante might be dead.
Finally, the pace of his punches slowed, then stopped. The room was as quiet as a church. No one moved.
He waited until his breathing was under control to stand. Luca handed him his jacket.
“Take out this trash,” Nico said, slipping his arms into the jacket. “Confiscate his keys and revoke his permissions immediately. Make sure everyone on the street knows that he is no longer affiliated with the Vitale family.”
Luca nodded, his face impassive. “You got it, boss.”
Nico hurriedly walked past the shocked faces in the gym. He had meetings all day.
14
“Brought you some Thai food this time,” Luca said, entering the room. “I hope that’s okay.”
He shut the door, but this time he didn’t lock it. Did they believe she was too scared to make a run for it? Somehow she didn’t think so. She heard Nico’s voice in his apartment.
Do you think I need a gun to make you do what I want you to do?
The gun had never been necessary. She understood that now. Luca had used it because it was a show of force she could understand. But he didn’t need it. None of them did.
She threw her legs over the side of the bed. “Fine.”
She’d given up her hunger strike. In the face of Dante’s assault the day before, it seemed childish and ineffectual. Nico was right; starving herself wouldn’t change anything. She needed to be smart, keep up her strength in case an opportunity to escape presented itself.
Luca set the food on the desk and glanced at her. “Clothes fit okay?”
She nodded. He had brought her two shopping bags full of clothes yesterday, and she’d been surprised to find not only a new blouse, but jeans, a long skirt, two t-shirts, socks, a pair of ballet flats, and even underclothes. She’d felt embarrassed by the bra and panties until she realized some assistant had probably bought them. She couldn’t imagine Luca doing it—even though Luca seemed to be in charge of bringing her things—and she didn’t want to think about Nico choosing the lacy garments with her in mind. It was too personal. Too reminiscent of their moment in his kitchen.
He couldn’t know how desperate she was to ditch the clothes she’d been wearing when Dante put his hands on her, but was still grateful.
“I’m glad.” He pulled a book out of his back pocket and handed it to her.
She looked down at the cover. “To the Lighthouse?”
He shrugged. “The lady at the bookstore said you can’t go wrong with Virginia Woolf. Nico thought it might help you pass the time.”
She looked up at him. “Nico knows about this?”
“He’s the one who suggested it.” Luca stuck his hands in the pocket of his slacks. “He’s not a bad guy, you know.”
“You care about him,” she said.
“Love him like a brother. Would take a bullet for him without a second thought.”
His voice had gone hard, and she had no doubt that he meant every word. What kind of history did the two men share to breed that kind of loyalty? Or was it just a mob thing?
“It’s kind of hard to see him as a good guy when he’s responsible for the fact that I’ve been locked in this room for the last week,” she finally said.
He nodded. “I understand. I just want you to know there’s more there than meets the eye.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why do you care what I think of Nico?”
“Because he does.” He turned around. “Enjoy your lunch.”
He closed the door behind him, and this time he locked it.
She dropped onto the bed, still holding the book in her hands. Nico cared what she thought of him? Hard to believe under the circumstances. He’d been angry when he saw what Dante had done to her—when he’d heard what Dante had almost done. But Nico was keeping her prisoner to further his business interests. If he was angry at Dante, it was only because he had violated orders, not because Nico cared. It would take a lot more than a book and some clothes to make her believe otherwise. This was probably some
kind of mind fuck designed to get her to trust them.
She dug into the Thai food and opened the book, feeling as close to content as she’d come since the day she’d been kidnapped. She ached to talk to her brother, to know what was going on with her father and why he hadn’t given into Nico’s demands—whatever they were. But she had food and a good book. It was enough for now.
She had just finished eating when the key rattled in the lock. She looked up, her heart picking up its pace. Nico had said Dante wouldn’t be back, but she still felt a jolt of fear when she thought of him.
A moment later the door opened, and Nico stepped into the room.
He avoided her gaze as he made his way to the desk. Spinning the chair around, he placed it a couple of feet away and sat down. She lowered her eyes as the silence stretched between them. The knuckles of his right hand were scraped and bruised. She wondered if he was a boxer.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry about yesterday. That’s not the way I do business.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She couldn’t keep the note of sarcasm from her voice. He might not be a rapist, but he was still keeping her hostage. If not raping someone was the measuring stick for being a good guy, it was a pretty low bar.
“We need to talk,” he said. “I’m trying to make you comfortable, but this can’t continue for much longer. I need information.”
His voice was steely. Where was the Nico she’d met in his apartment? The one with the gentle voice? The tender but passionate touch?
She pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn’t afford to think about him like that.
“I don’t know what I could possibly tell you,” she said.
“I need information about your father.”
Was her father in danger? Would giving Nico the information he wanted put her father at risk? On the other hand, hearing what Nico wanted to know might give her some leverage, or at least help her understand what he he was hoping to gain.
“It seems like you already know a lot about him,” she said.
Nico studied her face, and she felt her cheeks grow hot with the intensity of his stare. “He hasn’t contacted us. We need to know where he might be hiding.”
Ruthless: Mob Boss Book One Page 6
