Page 14 of His Captive
Thankfully, Monica’s arrival causes him to let go and I quickly tuck both of my hands in my lap.
“Did you two save room for dessert?” Monica asks, flashing us both a smile.
“I’m fine,” Massimo answers, but it doesn’t sound like he’s referencing dessert. He motions to the menu and shoots me a glance. “You want anything?”
“N-no, I think I’m ready to go,” I manage.
“Have a good evening!” Monica smiles and nods to us, then turns and leaves the table.
“No check?” I question, glancing at her.
“Not when your family owns the entire fucking resort,” he mutters, yanking his wallet out of his pants and throwing money on the table. “But she deserves a tip.”
Wait. His family owns the entire resort? Why did I pick Twelve Palms? It was the most expensive option, and there were several others that would have been perfectly fine. But no. I had tochoose the Mafia resort. Is everyone here in the Mafia? I look around, feeling a twinge of fear. Nobody sticks out like a sore thumb—except Massimo. I think that’s because I already know whoheis.
“Let’s go,” Massimo says, standing up and walking around to help with my chair. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”
My bungalow. That’s where I need to be right now. Not following Massimo out of a restaurant. Not feeling things bubbling inside me I don’t understand. I’ve never felt a connection to any of the guys I’ve dated. I’m sure that’s why there are never any second dates. But I feel something now. Something foreign and strange. A flutter—a tingle—aheat.
What if he’s walking me to my room because he expects me to invite him in?
Oh, god.
CHAPTER 6
Lea
Massimo leads me out of the restaurant and down the path to the hotel. I need to make a right to go to my bungalow. I don’t want him to walk me to my front door—don’t want to give him even as much as a hint that this could go further than that. But what if he tries to kiss me goodnight? My stomach flutters. I imagine his rough-looking lips against mine.
“I-I can make it the rest of the way on my own,” I stammer, motioning to the bungalows that adorn the private beach. “I’m down there.”
“You sure,bambina?” he asks as he turns to me. “I don’t mind walking you the rest of the way.”
“I’m okay, really,” I manage with very little confidence. “Thank you for dinner. It was amazing, even if my stomach was a little off. So was the wine. It didn’t taste like poison at all.”
“I’m glad,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I like you, Lea. Can we do this again tomorrow night? I’ll take you somewhere even better than Bellissima’s. “
“I don’t know.” I look down, finally breaking from his gaze, but I still feel it.
“Because of my wife?” he questions with a sigh. “I understand.”
I should agree. That’s an easy way out. But I can’t. I don’t want him to feel like opening up is why I don’t want to see him again. I mentally stumble through several options, remembering the few times guys have asked me out on a second date, even after the first one went awful.
“That’s not it.” I exhale sharply. The truth is I like him even more, knowing that he’s capable of that kind of love—knowing that he loves so deeply, it lingers that long. That it hurts. I can’t even imagine being loved like that. “I-I just didn’t come here looking for something like that. I promised my grandmother I’d let the island guide me…” And it’s guided me here. But this isn’t what she meant.
“Where is it guiding you,bambina?” he asks. “Tell me.”
He leans closer, his eyes darkening like he’s staring into my soul. I’m staring into his. A frozen tundra that just tasted sunshine for the first time in so long he doesn’t remember exactly what it tastes like. But he wants to. And I want him to.
No! Reality snaps me like a twig and I wobble, looking away.
“It’s guiding me to my bungalow,” I reply, meeting his gaze again. “Thank you for tonight. Really. But I need to go. I’ve got plans tomorrow and I need to get some rest. My stomach…” Itfeels hollow to keep going back to that excuse, considering he cured it.
He takes my hand, squeezes it, and nods. The expression on his face doesn’t radiate pain. Disappointment, maybe? I guess that’s fair. I’m feeling a little of that myself. Disappointed that the hottest guy I’ve ever met, the first guy to bring these strange feelings to the surface, is a criminal. And not just thebad-boy-in-his-troubled-teenskind of criminal. He’s probably killed people. Like,people, people. More than one.
Then the emotion just kind of drains out of his face, and his stare gets cold enough to make me shiver. Is this what his anger looks like?
“Goodnight, Lea,” he says, letting go of my hand and turning away. “I’ll never forget you. Or tonight.”
