by Shanna Bell
An unexpected pang of regret went through her when she pictured him with another woman, which was crazy. She attributed it to the insta-lust he had awoken inside her. Which had been one of the reasons she had run away in the first place. Lusting after another woman’s soon-to-be-man was not her thing.
When she saw the famous Old Bridge Gelateria in the distance, she came to a halt. Looking forward to some cooling down, she went up to the place. Before she could take another step, she was yanked into an open door. A large hand clasped around her mouth and everything went black.
She woke up in a dark room, with a dry mouth. The bed she was put on cracked when she pulled herself up on her arms. Green drapes shut out the faint sun. It was still light outside; probably close to dawn, though. She hurried off the bed and looked around for her bag. To her surprise, it was placed on a dingy table next to a closet. She grabbed it while peering out the window. It looked out over an abandoned courtyard. Judging by the yellowish houses and rows with terracotta plants, she assumed she was still in Italy. Even in Rome, perhaps. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.
She slowly tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. Even more surprising was that both the corridor and stairway were abandoned. After taking the steps two at a time, she opened a door that led to an empty courtyard. When she turned the corner, she came face-to-face with a burly man in a black suit.
Not so empty after all.
When he tried to grab her, she didn’t hesitate. She did a backward spin kick and knocked his legs from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.
She spun around and headed off into the other direction, when she crashed into another body. The big blond grabbed her a little tighter than was necessary, which also presented an opportunity. She gave him a sweet smile, internally laughing as his gaze dropped to her lips and his hold loosened for a fraction.
Then she kneed him in the balls.
He let go of her, while cursing and yelling. Jazzy didn’t think; she just ran. Less than ten feet away, there was an iron gate.
When a bullet hit the wall next to her, she froze. She slowly turned around, hands in the air. The blond buffoon, who stood slightly bent over, gave her a deadly stare.
“That’s not very sportive of you. I’m sure you really feel like a man now, holding that gun.”
In hindsight, mouthing off at a man after just having stomped all over his pride, might not have been the best thing to do. He came at her and slapped her so hard her head hit the wall. She saw stars, and then nothing but darkness.
The second time Jazzy woke up, she found herself zip-tied to a chair in the middle of a kitchen. A hulking figure leaned against the fridge opposite her, looking utterly bored. He had a certain military stance. His massive arms, tattooed with tribal art, looked like they could easily snap her in two. He had the greenest eyes she had ever seen.
Next to him stood Dickhead, the one who had smacked her in the face. Was she seeing things or was Dickhead sweating a little? He didn’t seem at ease standing beside the behemoth of a man that was practically twice his size.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the military guy said, his eyes on her throbbing cheek.
“The bitch kicked me in the nuts. Mr. Detta will thank me for teaching her a lesson.”
Jazzy wanted to tell him to fuck off, but changed her mind. That would only lead to him slapping her again. Also, she was suddenly more transfixed by the subtle change that took place in the big guy’s expression. His eyes had turned rock-hard, though Dickhead seemed oblivious to it.
“You’ll see him soon enough. We’ll see how grateful he is then. Now get the fuck out.”
Shit. This was actually happening. She hadn’t even considered the scenario of Detta following through on his threat to come after her. Clearly, she had underestimated his ego.
When Dickhead left, the big guy turned his attention back to her. His combat boots echoed ominously on the tile floor as he headed over to her.
“I’m Hector. Gio’s head of security.”
Gio, not Mr. Detta. A friend of his, perhaps? Though, he looked more like a mercenary, and a dangerous one at that, with the scars on his cheek and bulging biceps.
“Nice to meet you, Hector.” She gave him a fake smile. “Obviously I forgot to put you on the no-fly list. Could you please give me your last name? You know, so the next time, I won’t forget to add yours as well.”
He almost cracked a smile. Somehow, she knew this wasn’t a man who laughed a lot, if at all.
He walked over to the sink and held a cloth under the running water. Then he walked back over to her. As he wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, she realized he was surprisingly gentle for a man of his posture.
“It’s Diaz.”
“Well then, Hector Diaz, could you please untie my hands?” she asked, not expecting him to actually comply. Much to her surprise, he did as she asked, and then handed her the cloth. She put it on her burning cheek without thanking him.
“So, I guess we can add hacking skills to your resume?”
“Just one of my many talents,” she lied. The truth would only put Tess on their radar, and she couldn’t risk that. Tess would go nuclear on their asses if she felt threatened. If something had an internet access, Tess was able to get inside. Still, in the end, she was a peaceful hacktivist, who got sick at the sight of blood. She would be no match against Detta in the real world.
Hector gave her a stern look. “This can go down two ways. Either you cooperate and get on the jet with me willingly, or I’ll put you in a crate and carry you inside. What’s it gonna be?"
Neither.
“I will pay you,” she offered, getting desperate now. “I really don’t feel like going to Giovanni Detta’s lair. Just let me go or, at least, give me a fair chance to get away, a head start. He will never know. You can tell him I escaped.” One more week was all she needed before Detta would be forced to marry one of her cousins. She was so close. “Aren’t you a mercenary? I’m sure we can figure something out. I have a trust fund I will get into next year, and—”
“Stop right fucking there,” he said with a growl. Yes, the man actually growled. His eyes were cold now, a stark contrast to the hot red scars on his cheek. “First, I’m not a fucking mercenary. Technically, my firm is hired by the Dettas. Second, there isn’t much I care about in this world. In fact, I can’t really think of a single thing. But Gio is my brother. Not by blood, but by choice. No amount of money is gonna make me betray him.”
Shit. “Don’t pretend you’re doing something noble. You are holding me here against my will. Also, what kind of man stands by to watch a woman get beat up?”
“You gave as good as you got, chica. Had he not pulled a gun on you, you would have beat Jason, fair and square.” There was a hint of admiration in his voice. “Don’t diminish your achievement by complaining you got hit by a man and making it a ‘battle of the sexes’ thing. You’re not that kind of girl.”
Interesting take on the issue. “I’m not?”
He shook his head. “No, you’re not. Which is exactly the reason why you’re in this position in the first place.”
Before she could ask him what he meant by that bizarre remark, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Dickhead, who was apparently named Jason, stuck his head through the door opening. He gave her a nasty smirk, and announced their plane was ready for takeoff.
With that, her mood plummeted, together with any dreams and hopes of freedom.
***
In the end, she stepped into the jet willingly. They barely spoke on their flight back to the States. The ten-hour flight did give her a lot of time to think, though. Before she knew it, the plane had landed, and she was ushered into the back seat of a limo. Two hours later, she was taken into a lavish Victorian mansion in Pacific Heights, with a great view of the ocean and the Golden Gate Bridge. Though nobody told her, she had a feeling this was Giovanni Detta’s place.
Hector guided her
to a soulless, stark white living room. Both men stayed with her, obviously not willing to take their eyes off her for a second. Hector didn’t show any emotion at all. Jason, on the other hand, looked gleeful. As if he couldn’t wait for his boss to come and finish the beating that he’d started. Even though Jazzy tried hard to not show him that he got to her, she felt sick to her stomach. What if Jason was right? What if Detta was so pissed off that he would hurt her?
It wasn’t until a half an hour later before Detta walked into the room. By that time, she had paced a hole into the carpet, considering her limited options.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected when she came face-to-face with Detta again. Ice cold eyes and a flash of rage crossing his handsome features wasn’t it, though. Fear coursed through her body, almost paralyzing her. But then he turned his gaze to Jason.
“You hit her.”
It was odd that he immediately assumed it had been him responsible for her swollen jaw, and not Hector. Of the two of them, with his hulking presence and eternal scowl etched on his face, Hector looked the more menacing.
“I sure did. The bitch kicked me in the nuts.”
Gio’s eyes narrowed at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Did she now?”
“I sure did,” Jazzy repeated after the asshole. There was no way she was going to apologize for trying to get free.
What happened next, she didn’t see coming. Gio spun around and decked the prick, who bent over with a grunt. Another quick move and Jason’s knees buckled. When Gio stepped away from him, she saw a knife sticking out of Jason’s stomach. A red trail, that was rapidly spreading, had darkened his white shirt.
“Take him to the clinic. If he lives, fire him.”
Hector didn’t seem fazed in the least bit. He just dragged the bleeding man away.
When they were finally alone, a set of piercing blue eyes turned their attention back to her.
Oh, crap.
CHAPTER 8
GIO
As expected, she was waiting in his home, or as she apparently called it, “his lair.” He wondered if she would still be as defiant, or more subdued, now that she knew there was no escape from him.
He grabbed her chin, towering over her on purpose. He just butchered a man who touched her and was still pumped up with adrenaline.
“Remember your last words to me, bella?”
Her eyes flashed an unholy light. Oh yeah, she remembered alright.
“Fuck you.”
That you will. “In case you were still wondering; I choose you, Jocelyn Rossi, to be my wife.” No sense in not telling her how it was going to be. He liked clarity.
For a second there, she looked surprised; then she gave him a look, as if she wasn’t sure if he was joking.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I never kid, as you put it.”
“You do know that lacking a sense of humor isn’t something to be proud of, right?” When she didn’t get a rise out of him, she sighed. “Trust me, you don’t want me. I’m not the good little Catholic virgin girl you might think I am.”
“Not looking for one.”
This seemed to have her taken aback. He knew that some Italian families in their circle still expected their women to stay virgin until they got married. He wasn’t one of them. No, he had plans for her beautiful body, and actually liked a more experienced woman.
“You can’t make me marry you, you know. It’s not the Middle Ages anymore. Marriage by proxy is so passé.”
“You’re right,” he admitted.
“My grandfather will never allow you to hurt me to force me into unholy matrimony. So tell me, Detta, how exactly did you think this was going to work out? Can’t hurt me… can’t threaten me...”
She clucked her tongue, a smirk around her lush lips. Had she known him, she wouldn’t have taunted him. Whatever safeguards she thought she had in place against him, he would destroy them. He always got what he wanted. And right now, that was her.
“You sure have me there.” He grabbed her chin, and let his gaze linger on her beautiful lips. He heard her breath hitch, saw her pupils dilate. “This is how it’s going to work out. You are going to marry me without me having to coerce you. See, the deal is that I get to choose whichever Rossi girl I want. Should that girl refuse, I’ll still buy the company instead of allowing a hostile takeover, because I gave your grandfather my word. Thing is, your grandfather will get far less. Barely enough to pay off his debts. Also, his legacy, the company he has built from the ground, will not be inherited by his own flesh and blood. So, you’re going to marry me because you love your grandfather and you won’t want him to end up on the street. But most of all, Jazzy, most of all, you will marry me because you want me. Just as I choose you because I want you.” He dared her to deny it, kissing her neck. She squirmed underneath him, no doubt thinking of a way to deny the attraction between them, but failed when her gasp ended in a moan.
“I don’t want to.” Her whisper was barely audible.
He appreciated her honesty. Especially since he had to admit that he hadn’t considered one of the other Rossi girls, the second he’d discovered she was the one he’d had underneath him in the library. If he was going to have to marry one of them, why not the one he wanted to fuck? Vince would have a blast, if he’d ever admit that. He would claim Gio was following his dick, which wasn’t entirely true. Not entirely wrong either.
“Open your mouth.”
He had his tongue inside her sweet mouth in a beat. She moaned but didn’t pull back. Not even when he lost control and crushed her lips, bruising them until they were a lovely shade of red.
They were both panting by the time he pulled away.
“Next time I kiss you, it will be when you have my ring on your finger. The kiss after that will be when you’re underneath me. Again.”
Thing was, he didn’t take marriage vows lightly. If his father had taught him one thing, it was to respect your name. She didn’t know it yet, but once he gave her his name, he was going to own her.
CHAPTER 9
JAZZY
Much to Jazzy’s surprise, Gio sent her home. Somehow, she’d half-expected him to stash her in his basement. His parting words had sent hot tingles down her spine, but she refused to show him what he did to her. She had wanted to make a sarcastic remark about his confidence, but there had been something in his look, as if it were a done deal, that made her reconsider.
When she finally arrived back at the Rossi mansion, she had come to a few conclusions. She walked up to the front door and took the steps up to the library. It was time to confront the man who had set her up.
Her grandfather sat in his favorite chair, near the fireplace.
“It wasn’t a coincidence, was it? You, sending me to retrieve something from your vault, the same night Detta was sitting there, alone in the dark.”
He took another sip of his wine and then looked at her. “I suppose it’s too late to say that I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
Jazzy scoffed. “Why? You had to know you were placing me on his radar, making me a challenge to him.” Antonio Rossi never did anything without a reason. The old man was the most manipulative person she’d ever met. Had he lived a few centuries ago, he would have ruled in a Medieval court.
“Because I won’t be around forever.”
“What?” Panic grabbed her by the throat at the thought of something happening to him. “Are you sick? Why haven’t you told me? Or are we at war again?” She wasn’t sure what would be worse. She remembered a time, over a decade ago, when a war between families broke out, and she, Carmen, and their cousins had been in lockdown for months.
“No war,” he reassured her. “But I am getting older, and I will be having a few minor surgeries in a week. Nothing big, but you never know.” He stared outside into the garden for a moment before he looked straight at her. “We both know who will come after you should anything happen to me.”
Marco.
The ever-
present dark panic inside her started to rise again, sending a chill over her spine, but she pushed it back. She couldn’t afford to be petrified by fear.
“And I will be ready if he does. This is what I have trained for over the years.” She knew of a dozen ways to incapacitate a man.
“There’s no ‘if,’ Jazzy. There’s only ‘when.’ He’s too much of a coward to come after you alone. That will not be the way he will operate. He has the means to come at you with sheer numbers you could never match on your own. I wish…” He cleared his throat. “Had he been any other man, I would have made him suffer and had him killed for what he did to you and Mary.”
It was true. Marco had the manpower and the means to come after her. In fact, it had been his parting words to her: I will make you pay, slut. I will fucking make you bleed.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, you never did,” he said with a sigh.
“So, what, you think Giovanni Detta is going to protect me from Marco?” Like she would ever tell him of her shame. She hadn’t told anyone. Ever. Not even her grandfather knew the full extent of what had really happened that night all those years ago. “I won’t tell him about it. You promised me, gave me your word, you wouldn’t tell anyone either.” She was going to hold him to that.
“This marriage might be good for you in other ways too. You seem adrift lately, Jocelyn. Marriage could ground you.”
She rolled her eyes at his archaic views of how a woman was not complete without a man.
“Even barbed wire has no purpose in life without a wall or gate to defend,” he continued.
She scowled. “You calling me stingy?”
“Would you rather have me compare you to a thorny rose?”
Yuck. “Barbed wire is fine.” An analogy that would make Detta a wall. How fitting.
“Giovanni Detta is extremely protective when it comes to the safety of his family,” he suddenly said. “Detta might not lead the life of a gangster on the outside, but that boy was raised, in every way, to the image of his father. Meaning that, if you should tell him about a threat to you, he will take care of it. Don’t... don’t ask Detta to take Marco out. Not during my lifetime. That is all I ask of you.”
