Page 4 of Carlo
He gives an exasperated sigh and wipes a hand over his face. “Put the gun down. You’re not going to shoot me. You’re only going to piss me off.”
I pull back the hammer and let the cock of the pistol answer for me. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
Anger roils his voice into a harsh whisper. “I don’t discuss anything with a gun in my face. Put it fucking down. Now.” I don’t move. Hopefully, he doesn’t realize it’s because I can’t. Another sigh, deeper and angrier meets my resistance. “Do you really want to go there? Do this? Right now, in front of your daughter. What would your six-year-old Caterina think to wake up to the sound of bullets and bloody mayhem.”
“Ha,” I scoff at the threat. “She’s already been there, done that.” My cold voice never wavers but it can’t quell the words slithering up my spine. Her name. He knows her name and age. Shit. I know he said it to unsettle me, and it worked.
“Have it your way.” Before I can wonder what he means. Quick as a flash he races to the bed, disarms me and toss me back on the pillow. The whole operation, get-the-gun, took less than three seconds. My body quakes from the brief contact, and I rub my hand. Massaging the still damp palm.
He walks to the other queen-sized bed in the room and sits. “Now we can talk. But, please, it’s the middle of the night. Don’t waste my time with questions you already know the answer to.”
His words are so soft and faint that I nearly believe him. Or at least I would if it weren’t for the bruising grip he had on my wrist. “How did you find us?”
He laughs. “It didn’t take much. You made your reservation with your real name. We traced it from the moment you booked it.”
Shit, shit, shit. I don’t know why I did that. I was just so desperate to get out of my father’s house. So desperate to hide from the Verrazanos. I forgot all of the rules. The ones my father and Ben taught me. “What do you want?”
“I want this shit over. I want the wifeless, childless life I had before our fathers cooked up this scheme. But I don’t think either of us is going to get what we want.” He rubs his hands over his face, and I can hear the scrape of his stubble against his palm. “I’m Carlo Falcone…” he removes his tie. Who wears a tie to a kidnapping? “Your husband—to be.” He looks around our simple room. “I don’t suppose you have anything to drink in here, do you?”
His words scare me more than his actions. Ben was a drinker. Worse than that, he was a mean drunk—pure evil. “No,” I practically screech. “Nothing stronger than water. I’m not a drinker.”
He shakes his head as if I just said I’m not a dragon. “Great,” he mutters. Then he starts taking off his shoes.
“What are you doing?” I give another screech, and my eyes dart to see if I’ve awakened Cate.
“It’s late, and I’m getting ready for bed.” He sets the bombshell words between us as nonchalantly as he removes his shirt. “We’ll marry in the morning.”
“No, no, no, no. You can’t be serious. I’m not marrying you.”
“Then you can explain it to my father. Salvatore Falcone.” His voice is flat and deadly. “I don’t like this any more than you. But I’m not in the mood to argue about it. You don’t want to come willingly. Fine. You can come kicking and screaming, but you’re coming. You think the Verrazanos will let you get away with killing Big Ben. They’ll find you and Caterina and make you pay. They’ll makeherpay. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”
He’s wrong. I know all too well. My eyes fall to my daughter, and my stomach tightens. She’s already been through so much. My thoughts race. What am I going to do? Can I trust this man? I don’t have much choice. I ran as far and as fast as I could. Used cash, threw away my phone, switched cars, and they still found me. I roll my shoulders back. “Are the Falcones any better? Aren’t you all the same group of low-life thugs and murderers? No better than my father?”
He snorts. “The Falcones are nothing like your father. We keep our word. We have honor. Your father is a fucking snake who would sell his own daughter for a few dollars. Don’t believe me? Ask your brother. Vito Silvio took out three good men for the crime of protecting our territory. Territory your father wanted. Territory that didn’t belong to him. But he sent you lackey brother to do his dirty work, and my friends paid the ultimate price for your father’s treachery. For your father’s greed.”
The look in his eyes almost breaks me. He’s ravaged. It’s a look I know well since it greets me every morning in the mirror. If I can convince him to work with me. “If you don’t want it either, then maybe…”
He shuts me down before I can finish my plea. “There’s nomaybehere. We’re marrying tomorrow morning. End of discussion. We’re done talking. I need my beauty sleep.” He strips down to his boxer briefs and climbs into bed.
My eyes flit around the room. They move like a butterfly trapped in a net. Beating frantically. Fluttering from the tote bag with the bullets, to the door, to Cate, then back to where he’s slipped under the covers. He’s lying on his back with his arms folded under his head. Like it’s just another day at the beach for him. While I’m gauging my chances of getting the bullets and the gun before he stops me.
“Will you run, Valeria?” He asks the question casually as if he’s genuinely curious. His chin is still pointed towards the ceiling as if he’s in deep thought. Contemplating the meaning of life—mylife.
My fingers curl and uncurl as my mind races. I can’t get out of this hotel without him stopping me. If he’s anything like Ben, he’ll never let me go. Even if I get out, then what? I square my shoulders and promise. “The first chance I get.”
“Fair enough,” he answers. His eyes meet mine. Only he can see my features—my determination, and I can’t see his. “I appreciate the heads up. So, let me give you one. There is nowhere you can run. There is no place I can’t find you. I’m a Falcone. And once we’re married, you will be a Falcone. I’ll always find you. And if you try to hurt me, you’ll regret it.
I glare, preparing to answer with my own threat, but he’s already dismissed me. Turning over on his side and giving his pillow a little fluff before he adds. “We head back to Chicago at nine a.m. Get some rest.”
Shit. Now, what do I do? My mind races as I try to come up with a plan. But I can’t think of one. I can’t risk waking Caterina. I can’t risk her being hurt. And despite the show I put on, I know he won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to bring me in line. To keep me in line. So, I’ll have to find another way to get away from him. A way to escape from Chicago. He’s a Falcone. And that means he’s no better than my father. He’s worse.
* * *
I wake with a start, and it takes me a minute to remember where I am and what’s going on. Then it all comes rushing back. My failed escape. The break-in last night. Carlo Falcone. My eyes dart around the room, and relief washes over me when I seeCaterina sitting at the small table coloring. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she gives me a huge smile. She can’t speak, or at least she never speaks. Her eyes and her smiles are all she gives me to communicate. Today, they say she woke up with a strange man in the room, and she’s not afraid. She wasn’t harmed or threatened. She is safe. Thank you, God. I don’t know how I slept so soundly that I didn’t hear either of them awaken. The stress and the lack of sleep for the last five days must have affected me more than I realized.
Before I can ask her who helped her get her crayons and books out, the bathroom door opens. Once again, a halo, this time of steam, covers his features. What does he look like? I squint in his direction, and then he walks out of the bathroom. And my heart stutters. Slams the brakes down hard on my racing thoughts. Did the God I was just thanking send me this? Nope, couldn’t be. This is a man sent by the devil to tempt the devout. His face is pure sin. His eyes are a deep obsidian black that sparkles with cockiness. He knows how damn gorgeous he is. He’s lean and muscular. His skin is bronzed and glistens with moisture. His chest and abs are ripped and sculpted. He’s a masterpiece. A dangerous one. “You like what you see?”
“No,” I bark with dried lips. “Absolutely not.”
