“Eat.”
At my harsh command, diners at the next table shot glances in our direction. Don Morelli would throttle me if I caused a scene here. Better to leave before temptation got the better of me.
“I’ll eat when I’m ready,” Amanda said hotly.
“Oh, come on, Amanda,” Nicole protested. “You can’t let the crap Carole says about food get into your head.”
Amanda scowled at her. “She hasn’t made a comment about my body in years.”
“Really? There weren’t jabs made at your rushed wedding a few weeks ago?” Nicole arched a brow. “I know our stepmom. I know the bullshit she spews.”
That snippet of conversation told me all I needed to know. It was a piece of the puzzle that was the last ten years clicking into place. If I had been around, if I had protected Amanda….
I’m here now.
I stood abruptly. The chair scraped across the worn wood.
Cristiano’s jaw flexed, but not as violently as mine.
My whisper was harsh and full of a terrible promise. “Get up, fiore, before I spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she breathed, but her eyes widened a fraction.
“Try me.”
Coming to her senses, Amanda gave in. Her lips flattened as she leaned over to hug her sister and murmur something. Whatever Nicole said in response sent a peal of rueful laughter tinkling from my pretty flower.
Amanda rose and began walking toward the back hallway. Smart girl, she remembered where I always parked in the gravel lot beyond the alley. She walked quickly, but her strides looked effortless and breezy as those long, toned legs ate up the floor. If only she was in a decadent little dress, I could see them better.
Every pantsuit she owned was destined for the burn pits.
I stepped in behind her, placing my hand on her lower back. The touch was meant to guide, not possess. It took restraint not to pull her close, to dominate her. But those pretty hackles were raised, and it was time for the tension of the last few weeks to be released—or risk explosion. I felt the heat of her skin through the sleeveless top she wore. Catching the door, I held it open.
Amanda didn’t look to acknowledge the gesture. Didn’t thank me for it. “How long will you lock me up for this time?”
Fury rolled off me in waves. Prison. That was what she thought? She had no fucking idea….
A server pushed out of the kitchen, and Amanda jumped to the side to avoid a collision that would have been a marinara nightmare. I walked past them both, daring the employee to spill on me.
At the back door, I stopped short. My fingers squeezed the metal knob, finally finding something that wouldn’t break under the force of my touch.
Amanda’s heels clipped down the hall toward me. “What’s the matter? Forgot something?”
A ragged breath filled my lungs. The smell of citrus cleaner and something smoky from the kitchen concealed the scent I longed to inhale. Jasmine would have calmed me. Moonlight would have been a balm for the angry red wound gaping in my chest.
She nearly bumped into me, expecting me to move. “Come on, take me back to my cell.”
Porca miseria, she knew exactly what she was doing. That hadn’t been an accidental barb at the dinner table. I shouldn’t have expected the lawyer in her to use such careless language.
Fine.
If she wanted to argue, I was game. “Maybe I’ll tie you up. Take away your last shred of freedom. You won’t even be able to lie down without my express permission. Is that what you want?”
“Is that what you want?” she taunted.
The walls of the empty hallway began to close around us. It was too narrow. Too dim. Industrial lights buzzed overhead. Eight years of terror choked me. I might be free, but the memories would haunt me to my deathbed.
“You can’t keep me locked in your house like a pet,” Amanda added, not sensing how thin of ice she walked on.
