Page 16 of Angelo's Vengeance

“Look, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me why I’m here?” I tried again, injecting just the right amount of casual boredom into my voice, as if being kidnapped were merely an inconvenience rather than a terrifying reality. “Because if this is Salvatore Renzetti’s idea of courtship, he has a really twisted sense of romance.”

Still no response.

“Not in an awesome dark romance way, either.” I pressed my forehead against the peeling metal bars, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Fine. Be mysterious. I’ll just sit here and talk to myself, then. It’s not like I need conversation to stay entertained.”

Silence.

I sighed, stepping away from the door, my fingers flexing at my sides. If I stayed still too long, I would start thinking about everything that could go wrong, about all the ways this could end. That wasn’t an option. I had things to look forward to, things I wanted to do in mylife. Frankie said she was going to get preggars. My throat tightened. No way was I missing out on that.

Carlotta had made it clear—Salvatore Renzetti wanted me.

The question was, for what? A wife?

My stomach churned at the thought. If he had me now and had gone to the trouble of orchestrating my kidnapping, then he wasn’t going to let me go easily. The good news was that I knew Ilias had men watching me the whole time I was in Italy. They would have known I never made it out of the restaurant. It was only a matter of time before my brothers came for me, and they’d bring backup. I wasn’t sure where this little hole in the ground was, but they’d find me. Somehow. It was just a matter of how long it’d take.

I clenched my jaw, shoving down the creeping tendrils of fear. No. I would not allow myself to slide down that slope. I would find a way out of this.

I turned back to the guard, placing my hands on my hips. “Alright, strong and silent, have it your way. But just so you know, if I don’t get out of here soon, you’re going to have to deal with one very cranky, veryvengeful Greek woman. And trust me, that’s not something you want.”

I sighed dramatically and sank back onto the dirt floor, grimacing as the filth clung to my already-ruined clothes. “Hope you’re ready for a long night, buddy. I can talk for hours.”

The guard didn’t react, but I swore his shoulders stiffened just slightly.

Good. Let him underestimate me. Let them all think I was just some spoiled mafia princess who would sit here and wait to be rescued.

They had no idea who they were dealing with. There would inevitably come a time when they would enter this cell, and I’d be ready. I had … dirt and hairpins. Well, I could work with that. And stilettos.

Yeah, they were stupid. They should have taken the heels.

CHAPTER 12

ANGELO

The low humof the jet’s engines did little to help me sleep. All I could think about was Theodosia being in the hands of monsters, their hands on her. Thoughts swirled in my head like angry bees — dark ones that I struggled to keep in check.

My fingers curled into fists on the armrests, my knuckles still raw from the last fight, and my cheek throbbed. The cabin lights had been dimmed, with gun oil mingling in the recycled air as our men worked on some of the weapons we’d brought, ensuring they were ready for the fighting we were bound to face. Outside the windows, the dark sky stretched endlessly, but all I could see was red.

Theodosia was gone. Taken. And I wasgoing to carve through whoever had touched her.

The last time I’d seen her had been outside Conall’s penthouse, right after my sister had been married. Theo had been all full of spit and fire about Conall marrying Frankie without either of us there. I had been studiously avoiding Theo for years, and then she had been right up in my face, grown up and beautiful. I hadn’t even known what to do with myself, or where to look. All I’d known was that I’d had to get away from her before I pushed her up against the wall and fucked her raw. Apparently, she’d been just as horrified as I was because she’d darted away from me like I was hot lava, and then immediately moved out of the country.

Sighing, I scrubbed a hand over my face and looked out over the plane.

The Anthakos brothers were carbon copies of one another: giant brutes well over six feet tall and hulking. All had the quintessential Greek nose and hooded dark eyes. It was amusing to recall how small Ilias had been when I met him so many years ago in that smoky lounge my father dragged me to. He had been so wiry and short. Sure, he had onlybeen ten, but I would have never guessed he would become such a giant. He’d been a nervous thing, too—twitchy as a rabbit. That had made Conall instantly protective of him while Maxim remained suspicious for years. Their youngest sister, Polina, looked nothing like them. She was waifish and blonde, unlike any Anthakos at all. It made you wonder if she was even related to them, though I didn’t care. Polina was the fairy princess of their little clan.

On the other hand, Theodosia was lush and beautiful, dark like her brothers, with smooth Mediterranean skin that glowed in the sunshine like burnished copper. Once, she’d been embarrassed by her figure, but she’d grown into her curves, and now she was all woman with an ass that wouldn’t quit and tits that I would give my left arm to bury myself in. She had dark hair like her brothers, but hers was long and curly. She embraced that, too, sometimes leaving it long and fluffing it out into a giant dark halo that resonated with her outfit, burying glittering beads or tiny colored combs in it. Other times, she piled it on her head into little buns.

“You okay there, boss?” Bacco asked,sitting beside me and flipping his butterfly knife between his fingers as if that steady rhythm would prevent him from losing his mind. He wasn’t a fan of flying, but he wouldn’t let me go alone. Bacco always claimed that being in an airplane made no sense to him. He insisted that the idea of two engines keeping a metal cylinder full of people in the air was ridiculous. While he doubted the physics of our transportation, there was sure to be fighting, and he wouldn’t miss out on that.

“Not really,” I admitted, adjusting and readjusting my grip on the brass knuckles I had brought. My head was all messed up, and it was hard to think clearly. Sitting still wasn’t my forte.

We were heading to where we thought she was—but every second wasted felt like another cut, bleeding me dry. It was a weird thought. I didn’t think I would care this much. Was it because I’d known her for so long? I didn’t want to think about the little girl I had known, the way she’d grown up before my eyes. It had always made me uncomfortable because I knew all about the piece of paper burning a hole in my desk drawer. Looking ather back then made me feel ashamed that I knew she wouldn’t have a choice—that she’d be saddled with one of us as a husband. It had felt weird and wrong. Now I wondered if I should feel bad that it felt right.

I’d set my father up to be killed in a drive-by shooting when I was seventeen. Made sure I’d be there to take the final shot so I could look the fucker in the eyes when it happened. I’d been happy as fuck when I did. Celebrated afterwards.

Frankie had only been nine, and Theo had been ten. They were just kids. At that time, I felt physically disgusted by what the blood oath represented. It made me irrationally angry to think that the mafia world had trapped us.

Trappedme.

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