Page 47 of Seduced By the Enemy

“That’s none of your damned business,” Salvatore rebutted, and Emilia pursed her lips in exasperation. Why couldn’t he say what he felt? What they shared?

“She is my sister. My little sister,” Leandro roared, so Emilia flinched, and was distantly aware of the party happening beyond them, wondering if the guests had become aware of the screaming match taking place in the stairwell.

“She is a grown woman?—,”

Her bond with Leandro had been forged over a series of years, and it was unbreakable. If anything, the recent discovery of Leandro’s adoption had taken something strong and made it impossible to break. She felt that. She felt it in his look, in his eyes, in the way he held his shoulders, braced to take any weight from hers and carry it himself.

So she wasn’t even really surprised when he lifted his fist and struck Salvatore’s face. Without warning, without apology. Just a single blow that had Salvatore stagger one step backwards before lifting his own hand. Not to return the action but to press to his red cheek.

“Leandro!” Emilia cried out. “Don’t!” But Leandro was already lifting his hand again, and now Salvatore had no choice but to lift his hands and block Leandro’s attack. In doing so, their arms braced, and they were moving as one. Emilia lifted her shaking hands to her mouth and pressed them there, breath held. Her eyes flew to the top of the stairs and the door that led to the party and she contemplated running up to shout for help, but it was all happening so fast–too fast—for her to do anything but cry their names over and over. Another arm flew: this time, Salvatore was punching Leandro so she was pushing forward and wrenching at their tuxedo-clad arms, trying to separate them, panic surging through her veins.

It all happened so fast. So fast.

She couldn’t even have said how, in the end. All she knew was that she lost her footing and was then tumbling backwards, thrown completely off balance, unable to grab hold of anything.

Distantly, she heard her name from Salvatore’s lips. Torn with passion, just as she’d heard it so many times, and yet not, because this passion had a dark edge. A derangement. It was a passion mingled with the absolute worst kind of all-consuming panic. And then, everything went black.

Salvatore had spenthis entire adult life wanting to avoid hurting anyone else. He’d learned his lesson as a teenager. Over and over, and then, finally, with that disastrous break up. He’d learned his lesson.

He wanted to never hurt anyone, and yet, despite that, he now stared down the stairwell, chest heaving, at Emilia. On the landing beneath them, where only minutes earlier they’d beentogether in the most pleasurable of ways, he stared at her. Unconscious. Pale.

“What have you done?” Leandro screamed, rushing down the stairs towards his sister. Nausea rose inside Salvatore, a horrible, consuming feeling.

“Is she alive?” The words were mangled in his throat. He could barely utter them. He couldn’t speak of a reality that would destroy him. He needed to know. “Damn it, Leandro,” he was moving now, towards her.

But Leandro whirled around. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

Emilia lay there, lifeless. But not lifeless. In many ways, she looked exactly as she did in sleep, so it was easy to imagine stroking her cheek, kissing her lips, having her stir in his arms as she had every morning that followed a night shared.

“Call an ambulance,” Leandro said, his cheek darkening into what would no doubt show a bruise.

Salvatore was already removing his phone from his pocket and pressing in the emergency numbers. And then, she moved. Just a little, turning her head, before blinking her eyes and parting her lips.

Then, her hand. Reaching not for him, but Leandro. “Leo.” Her voice was soft.

Salvatore’s whole chest felt like it was splitting in two, but he stood where he was, staring at her, feeling like his whole world was imploding. This beautiful precious woman. He prayed then, to God, to everyone and everything who held any kind of power. He prayed that she would be okay. God, but he needed to know that.

“Don’t move, Emme. Don’t move. Help is on the way,” Leandro replied, stroking her hand.

Salvatore pressed the phone tighter to his ear, and started to move swiftly down the stairs, coming to crouch at her other side, ignoring the way Leandro was shooting daggers at him. Neitherof them would be stupid enough to fight now. Not with Emilia in this condition.

“It’s okay,” she said, pressing her fingers to her temple as she went to sit up.

Salvatore moved in quickly, grabbing her behind the shoulders and steadying her. “Don’t move,cara.Don’t move.”

“I’m fine,” she said, flicking her gaze to him, and frowning slightly. Fear curdled in his gut. The fear that he’d hurt her; that she’d hate him.

“Damn it,” he cursed into the phone, at how long it was taking to connect. “There’s no reception in here.”

Leandro looked around. “I’ll drive her.”

“I’m okay,” she insisted.

“You’re going to hospital, Emme,” Leandro’s voice was curt.

Salvatore, crouching beside her, reached for Emilia’s hand, holding it in his. “He’s right,cara mia.You have to see a doctor.”

“No, I just need to go,” she muttered. “Would you get me out of here?”

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