Page 18 of The Red Queen

So far, he’d managed to best her in hand-to-hand combat, but that didn’t mean he was better than her. She’d been attacking on pure instinct, without thought or plan. She was also injured, missing her right pointer finger, which she relied on in both combat and weapons training.

“See anything you like?” he asked, nodding toward the pile of clothes.

“No,” she snapped, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Put them on anyway,” he said, his tone even.

She didn’t bother answering but mimicked him, giving him her answer by crossing her arms over her chest.

“You won’t leave this room unless you’re wearing that outfit.” His voice was still mild, but his gaze was sharp in anticipation of a battle.

Still she didn’t move.

He backed away from her, about to exit the room, and she felt regret that he was leaving. He was the only thing that broke up her days and she didn’t even get to see him every day. He was also her only opportunity for escape.

“Do I still get to come up for supper?” She cursed herself for sounding so desperate, but she couldn’t help herself. Shewasdesperate to get out of that room.

“I’m not eating at home this evening,” he said regretfully, his dark eyes on her face as she worked out his meaning.

“You mean… you were going to take me out?” She sounded incredulous, but he hadn’t so much as let her out the front door for a breath of fresh air in the week that she’d been there.

He shook his head in mock regret. “I was going to, but not in what you’re wearing now.”

She glanced down at herself and blushed. She’d been showering every day in the small bathroom, but since she’d been refusing his offer of clothes, she was still wearing the dirty, blood-stained outfit from when she attacked the Gutierrez mansion in Miami.

She’d been washing her panties in the sink every night with a bar of soap and hanging them to dry while she slept, but the rest of her outfit was beyond filthy and beginning to really smell.

“If I change, will you take me with you?” If he took her out of the mansion, to a public place, she might be able to escape.

Up to this point, her thinking had been that her captivity could only end in two ways, escape or death. Playing along with his games might give him vital information that was best kept to herself. So, she’d refused to play along, barely speaking to him or his staff and refusing to take anything other than the necessities she needed to survive.

“Of course,” he said, his voice showing indulgence.

The thought of leaving the mansion, of going out somewhere made her salivate in anticipation. Giovanni couldn’t possibly control her if they were out in public. He was underestimating her if he thought she couldn’t or wouldn’t find a way to escape.

“Get out so I can change,” she said dismissively, turning her back on him.

She waited until she heard the door close, then pulled her shirt over her head. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of dried blood and perspiration, hesitating as she reached for the dress. Glancing at the door, she decided Giovanni could spare five more minutes for her to shower.

She dropped her pants and headed for the washroom, rushing into the stream of water while it was still cold. She didn’t want to risk him coming in and interrupting her while she was naked.

He walked into her suite ten minutes later as she was sitting on the edge of her bed, clumsily buckling the tiny strap on her heel. Things like this were made much more difficult without a pointer finger. He knelt at her feet, giving her a stern look when she reared back, and finished buckling her shoes. Though he was only touching her feet, his fingers against her skin sent awareness skittering through her. She held her breath until he was done.

When he moved away, she stood, smoothing the dress down her thighs, then turned to look at Giovanni.

It was amazing how powerful a sexy dress, a leather coat and a pair of heels made her feel after the many lows she’d experienced in the past few months. She felt like the old Desi. The woman she’d cultivated after years spent as a soldier in the Garza cartel. Her transformation from a woman of combat into a woman who could own a catwalk had been the tipping point in her relationship with Nico. He’d gone from seeing her as merely useful to his cause to seeing her as a potential companion and second-in-command.

Which is what made Giovanni’s lack of admiration both baffling and somewhat painful. Though why she should experience any kind of emotional response to him was ridiculous. He was nothing to her. Less than nothing. He was a dead man walking when she finally got her hands on a weapon.

“Let’s go.”

She tried to walk past him, ignoring the hand he held out to her, but he gripped her by the upper arm and forced her to ascend the steps from the cellar to the main floor at his side.

They stopped in front of Mrs. Capelli, who was waiting for them by the front door, her back stiff and her gaze distant.

“You will apologize to Mrs. Capelli for swearing at her when she dropped off your clothes.”

Desi pressed her lips together and refused to speak.

---