Page 27 of Stolen Christmas
Luca lifts me onto his lap. “Come on, Angel. A bite or two, and you can take a mini nap.”
“I guess between taking the bus to the police station and then everything…”
“Did you say you took the fucking bus?” The anger in his voice surprises me.
“Yes. I don’t own a car. It was totalled when the carjackers wrecked after they stole it.” I roll my eyes. So my parents’ deaths were truly for nothing. They stole only to destroy the one thing they got away with. Well they got away with murder that’s for sure. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I wasn’t going to work as a stripper for the hell of it.”
“Lie down. I’ll be back.”
“What did I do wrong now?”
“Nothing. Damn it, nothing.”
“Andrea, get me the cameras off the police station on 18thStreet and the busses that lead to my fiancée’s residence.” He has another woman on speed dial. I tell myself not to be jealousbecause I don’t have feelings for him, anyway. “Si. I need that footage by tonight.”
“What?” Why does he need the bus cameras?
I look at him with confusion, and he answers me. “Too many motherfuckers saw you dressed like that.”
“Are you serious?” My fatigue suddenly fades as I stand up and try to talk sense into this man.
“Yes. I’m fucking serious, Angel. I told you before that you’re mine and that outfit was going to get a motherfucker killed. If any of those fuckers were out of line, they’ll be dealt with.”
“We weren’t even together. I was with…” I shut my mouth before I utter the words, not because I’m afraid of Luca but because I’m ashamed of myself, closing my eyes in disgust. “For a woman so in love with the fucker, you easily fell into my arms.” God, does he have to remind me that I acted like a slut when it came to him?
“I’ll do anything to protect my brother,” I lie—well, sort of. Seeing Tony was to protect my brother.
He grabs my cheeks roughly. “That’s good, because tonight you will act like the dutiful fiancée and give my parents no indication that you’re in this for any other reason than you want to be my wife. You will not be crying over a married man.” Why is he under the assumption that I have feelings for that jackass cop? I didn’t even sleep with him. Hell, I don’t even like him. I used Tony a little and tried to end it, but then I got the call.
“Yes, my dear fiancé,” I answer sweetly.
“Watch your mouth, Angel. If you don’t believe how fucked up I am, I’ll let you see what happens to the men on the bus.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“The fuck I won’t. Now nap.” I scurry backward on the bed and get under the covers before he makes me. I’m almost put out that he’s not joining me, which serves to only remind me that my body is calling the shots and not my damn common sense. When did I become this horny, needy woman who opens her legs for a monster? Closing my eyes, I avoid further acknowledgement of his presence and let the actual fatigue set in.
Although I can’t see him, I can feel him in the room until he finally leaves. My nap is a short one, but when I wake up, he’s still gone. It shouldn’t matter because I need time to myself. I sit up in bed, forgetting that I’m half naked. I slide out of the bed and step on the warm rug below. Then I reach for a silk robe that has been laid out for me. It’s a beautiful pink and white floral pattern that I loved but had put back because it was extra. He didn’t need to buy me a full wardrobe.
Looking around the room, I notice someone dropped boxes off for me. Each is labeled with the contents, and there is an entire rack. I can’t believe how someone came in here and I didn’t hear them. Also, on the dresser there is a case labeledhair carewith a note pinned under the edge.
Lunch will be up at one and thestylist will be here at four. — Luca
I slip on a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved slouching gray top. With a quick brush of my hair, I tie it in a long braid and then exit the bedroom to see what’s going on. I’m not sure where Luca is, but there is no rule that says I have to stay locked up in my room. As soon as I step out of there, I find one of his guards sitting in a chair directly across the hallway, waiting for me to exit.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. D’Antonio,” he says, standing and then dipping his head in a polite nod.
“Good afternoon, but I’m not married to him yet,” I say.
“It’s pretty much a done deal.”
“Excuse me, but I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Marco. I’m here if you need anything until Mr. D’Antonio returns.”
“Do you know where my phone is?”
“It’s on the charger in his office. Unfortunately, it’s locked for now, and he won’t be back until later. I apologize for that.”
