Page 7 of Savage Vows

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Keeping you safe.”

“From what?” she demands. “You’re the only danger to me.”

I meet her gaze. “You have no idea, Alessia. No idea.”But you’re about to find out.

Nash drives away from the mansion, just over the speed limit, as a police car, lights flashing, sirens blaring, jets past us.

Helplessly Alessia pounds on the window, as if trying to get their attention. The tint on the glass makes it too dark for anyone to see inside.

“Where are you taking me?”

Unshed tears cling to her eyelashes, and for a moment, remorse stabs me. Quickly I shove it aside. She’s had plenty of opportunities to do her duty. Now we’ll do things my way.

“I asked you a question.”

“Where do you think?” I counter.

“To hell?” she asks.

The consuming urge to grab her shoulders, pin her hard against the seatback, and kiss her senseless gnaws at me.

I harness my demanding urges and instead lean even closer toward her, breathing the same air, letting her sense the menace she’s so close to unleashing. “Little rebel … That depends entirely on your behavior. What’s it to be?”

CHAPTER THREE

Alessia

The English Countryside

Matteo’s massive presence fills the space beside me, and the atmosphere in the vehicle crackles with his barely contained fury. I’m hyperaware of him. His scent—a mix of sharp cologne and the faintest hint of smoke—floods my senses. His jacket is heavy and warm and rests over my shoulders, but it’s his hard thigh pressing into mine that keeps me frozen. The solidness reminds me of everything I’ve been running from, everything I thought I’d escaped when I fled to Europe.

“You’re trembling,” he observes, his tone as sharp as the edge of a blade. There’s something else in his voice too—a dark satisfaction that makes my skin prickle.

I scoot as far away as I can and glare up at him through the curtain of my messy hair. “Because I’m furious, not afraid.” The half lie comes out stronger than I feel, and I silently thank the years I’ve spent dealing with my father’s business associates for teaching me how to mask my emotions.

The corner of his mouth twitches, but his gaze remains locked on mine, molten and searing. “Good. Fear would be wasted on you.” His words carry a weight I can’t quite decipher—almost like praise but twisted with pride and possession.

“There’s plenty of room for you on your side of the seat.”

“So there is.”

So why does he have to crowd me? Other than the fact he wants to annoy me?

The blare of a second siren grows louder as we pass another speeding police vehicle. For a fleeting moment, hope flares.

Matteo doesn’t even blink.

Seething, I face him. “You won’t get away with this.”

“No? You think not?” His dark smile is infuriating, a reminder of the power he wields so effortlessly.

“There are cameras everywhere on the property,” I point out, hating the way he seems utterly unconcerned. My mind races through possibilities—surely someone recorded his barbaric display, his casual kidnapping in broad daylight.

He shrugs casually, like a cat toying with its prey. “Are there?”

“Your license plate was recorded.”

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