My breath comes ragged. My heart pounds against my ribs hard enough to bruise.
I make it halfway down the slope before I hear it. The soft, unmistakable murmur of men speaking into earpieces.
My blood turns to ice.
They’re already moving. Of course they are.
I veer left, cutting off the path and plunging through a stand of low palms, gravel flying as I skid, barely catching myself before I go down hard.
The jetty glimmers faintly ahead through the trees.
The sea beyond it is a dark, restless mass, silvered by moonlight.
Hope flares again, stupid and desperate as I burst out of the palms and sprint for it. The boards of the jetty thud under my feet, echoing obscenely loud in the stillness.
The small motorboat tied at the end bobs gently against the cleats. My hands are shaking so badly I fumble the rope twice.
“Lucia.”
His voice is behind me. Calm and even and, fuck him, certain.
My breath catches. My vision blurs. “No,” I whisper, even as my fingers finally get the knot loose.
The engine key is already in the ignition.
Of course it is. I twist it— Just as strong arms close around my waist, hauling me backwards so violently I scream.
“No! Let me go!” I thrash, clawing at him, nails scraping uselessly over wet linen. “Fuck you, Giovanni! Just let me go! Tell them you couldn’t find me! Let me go and marry your Isabella!”
He stops. Actually stops. The sudden stillness is so complete it makes my chest seize. His grip tightens with unmistakable finality.
Then he bends his head until his mouth is close to my ear. “…Is that what this is about?” he asks softly.
My entire body goes rigid.
“You’re jealous?”
I spin in his arms and shove at his chest with both hands. “Don’t you dare,” I hiss. “Don’t you fucking dare reduce this to?—”
He laughs. A low, dark sound that vibrates straight through me.
“Madonna santa.” He shakes his head slowly, eyes burning. “You run from armed men into the ocean at one in the morning, and you want me to believe this isn’t at least a little about another woman wearing my name?”
“I hate you!” I choke.
An almost resigned look flits across his face, but it’s gone in the next instant. “I know you think you do.”
A low, feral scream rises in my diaphragm. I twist again, desperate, and this time my foot slips on the wet boards.
We go down together.
Hard.
The jetty tilts violently and then we’re in the water, the shock of cold stealing my breath, salt flooding my mouth as I surface spluttering and furious.
Giovanni comes up with me instantly, one arm locked around my waist, dragging me back against his chest.
“You are absolutely impossible,” he snarls into my hair.
