Page 55 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

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 hereto protect me but from the wrong person. “The flowers… they’re not from myfather.”

Antonio stills.

His hand tightens just slightly, his fingersflexing against my skin. “What do you mean?”

Swallowing hard, I force myself to meet hisgaze. “In Maryland, I used to work with this guy named Cohen. I was friendlywith him, like I am with everyone, but he took it the wrong way. When he askedme out and I turned him down, he became fixated on me.”

Antonio’s face becomes granite, his jawlocking.

I keep going, needing to get it all out. “Hestarted following me. Leaving gifts outside my front door. Calling my phone,bombarding me with messages. It was overwhelming, but I wasn’t worried atfirst. 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 theirheads ripped off. A box of chocolates with a knife stabbed through thepackaging. Blood red roses with a bullet tied to the ribbon, and a cardscrawled with the letter C.”

Antonio’s breathing grows heavier, his fingerscurling into my skin.

“I reported him to the police, but they didn’tdo anything. No proof that the threatening gifts were from him.” My voice ishollow, each word scraping its way out of me. “Then, my aunt worsened, and wehad to leave. I thought I left it behind. I thought I was free of him.” I shakemy 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 sharpnow, demanding.

I bark out a laugh, but it’s humorless. “Tellthe three crazy men who bought me at auction and trapped me in their towerabout my stalker?”

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over hisface before brushing a tear from my cheek with surprising gentleness. “We’renot crazy, Aemelia. We just want justice—for Mario, and now for you.”

I blink, my pulse roaring in my ears. “What doyou mean?”

Antonio leans in, his voice dropping, dark andlethal. “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 tohold his gaze. “I promise you; we’ll make him go away.”

I flinch back. “Go away… orgo away?”

His lips tilt into something that might becalled a smile if it weren’t so cold, so full of malice for the man whoterrified 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 lookthat 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 shoulderssquared, his expression unreadable.

Then, without another word, he turns andstrides toward the door.

“Antonio.” My voice trembles slightly, but hedoesn’t pause.

“Stay here,” he orders.

The door clicks shut behind him, and I let outa shaky breath, pressing my fingers to my temples.

I don’t know whether to feel relieved orterrified.

24

ALEXIS

SWEET CHERRY

Antoniodescends the stairs with the weight of a man who’s spent too long waging warwith himself. His fists flex at his sides, his knuckles white with tension. Hisexpression is a battlefield of emotions: rage, grief, and something dangerouslyclose to heartache.

---