“Dante,” I hissed, jogging to keep up. “Wait.”
He stopped by a parked sports car, opening the passenger door for me. “Get in.”
I stared at him, stunned. “Are you serious? I’m not getting in your car. I need a phone. I’m calling my dad.”
“Let me get you someplace safe first, okay?” he suggested, motioning at me again to get in.
For half a second, I almost said thank you. I don’t even know why. I think it was from the shock of it all, or maybe it was because out of all the monsters in that room, he was the only one I knew wouldn’t hurt me.
But then I remembered who he was. The Bratva. And that I wasn’texactlysafe.
“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on!” I screeched. “You’re going to let me go, aren’t you? You can’t seriously think you get to…keep me,” I whispered out the last two words.
His eyes met mine, and I swear he looked frustrated.
“Alisa,” he said softly. “Please just let me get you home.”
I hesitated, weighing my options. I could run, but where would I go without any cash or my phone? I didn’t even know where I was. I could scream, but no one here would help me. I mean, they were willing tobidon me.
The way I saw it, I was surrounded by his men, in a strange part of town, wearing nothing but a thin dress and heels.
“My address is the same. 41-12, 31st Avenue—” I started, but he cut me off.
“I remember.”
His voice was like gravel, and the fact that he remembered made my cheeks flush like a traitor. If he remembered, was it because he’d thought of me too?
God, no. Alisa. What was I doing? He and I? Never again.
Just so he couldn’t see how shaken I was, I slid into the passenger seat. Would it be so bad if I let him get me home?
Dante followed, settling beside me on the driver’s side.
The car pulled away from the curb in silence.
For a few minutes, I just watched the city pass in a blur. Dante sat next to me, his thigh close enough to brush mine. I could feel the heat of him, smell the faint trace of his cologne—musk, smoke, memory.
“So,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “you’re Bratva now?”
His eyes didn’t leave the window. “What makes you think I wasn’t before?”
That made my stomach flip.
I turned away from him, pressing my palm to the window like I could soak up some sense of reality.
I looked out the window, trying to get my bearings. We were heading downtown, the city lights blurring as we picked up speed.
“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” I said, a note of panic creeping into my voice.
“We’re not going to your apartment.”
Fear coiled in my stomach. “So where are you taking me?”
He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “Somewhere we can make this official.”
“Make what official?”
“Your protection.”
