“Which means I’m your prisoner.”
Why was it that his deep chuckle sent such a wave of tingling sensations through me? “Call it what you will.”
I rubbed my hands on my skirt, fighting tears.
I’d never felt this lost or helpless in my life. It was either return to Sicily or place my trust in a man who believed in his heart I was his enemy.
I hugged Zorro and shed a few tears, something I hadn’t done in a very long time.
“When I was a little girl, I was afraid of monsters. Before my papa used to tuck me in, he’d check everywhere to ensure there were no hairy creatures hiding in the shadows. Under the bed. In the closet. In the bathroom. He’d leave the door ajar and a nightlight on, issuing a hex on monsters he created just for me. Only when he went through the entire routine was I able to sleep.”
I wasn’t certain if he was paying attention or even why I was bothering to share something so personal. Perhaps because he’d done so in telling me about Michael. I didn’t look at him, my voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “One night, I heard a noise and it woke me up. I called for my papa but heard nothing. I was terrified but finally went to the door and peered out. It was dark. Even my nightlight was off.”
Jaxon shifted in his seat and I sensed he was paying very close attention.
“I heard voices, loud voices. And more noises. Then I heard gunshots. I knew what they were. My papa told me there were dangerous people in the world. He taught me how to react if I heard the sound. I tried but I was so scared. I needed my pappy. But he wasn’t coming. Then a masked man came into my room. He told me to be quiet, or he’d hurt me. I thought… I thought I’d never see my pappy again.”
“What happened?”
I cinched my eyes shut, willing the images that had been haunting me for weeks. The same nightmares I’d managed to push aside had returned with a horrible vengeance, only the details were different every time. In my mind they were a warning, a telling statement that my life, while already turnedupside down, was about to end as I knew it. There was nowhere on this earth where I was safe.
“Someone else came into the room and the horrible man dropped me. I crawled under my bed with my teddy. I just remember being curled into a ball, trying to block out the sound with my hands. There were several men. Thuds. Shouting. Gunshots. Then silence. I don’t how long I was there, but my father appeared, coaxing me into his arms. I just remember his scent, cigar smoke and whiskey. And gunpowder. But I felt safe in his arms. I knew he’d never allow anything to happen to me.”
I could not believe I’d admitted to him that I had a family. If he checked with his sister, it would prove I’d been lying all along. For all I knew this offer of bringing me to New Orleans had been orchestrated. I bit back a laugh. Orchestrated corruption. I was a find after all. The man sitting next to me could have easily maneuvered the situation, including sending thugs to New York to convince me to leave as a backup.
Yes, the idea was creative, wild and outlandish, but what was I supposed to think at this point? Maybe the handsome stranger was right and there was no such thing as coincidences. He’d crashed into my life instead of the opposite. I eyed him warily as he turned down a neighborhood street.
“Your father sounds like a wonderful, caring man who was intelligent enough never to keep secrets about the dangers of his life from his daughter. I can tell he loves you very much.”
He was being very careful with his words, but the tone had changed, deeper and more controlled. The two of us were like strangers passing in the night, unable to trust yet drawn together as if moths to a flame.
The rush of desire crackled within the tight space, electricity driving me into a state of longing that had already dampened my panties. I sensed he felt the disturbing connection as well, every muscle in his body tense while the bulge between his legs continued to throb, drawing my attention.
But with all acts of passion, we were on a rollercoaster ride to disaster. I felt that with every ounce of my being. Dramatic as it was. “My father is a very dangerous, sadistic, powerful man who would do anything to protect his daughter. Anything. As I’m certain your father tried to do with his family before he was murdered.”
Jaxon said nothing at first, slowing down and making another turn. The street was well lit with incredible streetlights. There were tree-lined sidewalks on both sides of the road, the houses also lit up with sparkling lights as if expecting guests. The gothic, Victorian theme was evident, beautiful exteriors and landscaping highlighting wealth and prosperity.
I’d found myself in a magical fairyland of opulence and danger.
And God help me, I was still attracted to the man sitting next to me, the one determined to break me in bits and pieces until he obtained what he wanted. Full control. Over me or over my father’s regime?
“You’re right,il mio fragile angelo. My father was much the same, refusing to understand that there were dangers everywhere. And his children were forced to learn the hard way. I assure you that I won’t allow anything to happen to you. As long as you place your trust in me.”
Trust. I almost laughed. “I’m not the fragile little angel you think I am, Jaxon. I’m much stronger and more resilient than I appear.”
He pulled to a stop in front of a massive and gorgeous home, shifting the gear into park. Immediately Zorro was wiggling, eager to jump out. “I know, little ballerina, that you are resourceful, defiant, intelligent, and strikingly beautiful. Yet you are much more vulnerable than you believe.”
Maybe he was right.
As soon as his door was opened, Zorro fought his master to try to be the first one with paws on the aggregate. With a slight turn of my head, I could tell how connected the two of them were. I remained in my seat, wondering how a man with such close ties to a furry creature could be such an arrogant bastard in every other aspect of his life.
He didn’t allow me to take much time debating the merits of his honorability before the door was jerked open. I ignored the gesture when he thrust his arm inside, daring to beckon me with his fingers.
Taking a mafia princess hostage would certainly be a power play unless he had no clue who I was. That much wasn’t easy to decipher but was something I had to keep in the back of my mind. I wanted to put a wedge between us both physically and emotionally. And why? Because he oozed darkness and I craved his touch, both the tender slide of his fingers as well as the roughness of his savage smacks on my behind.
And he knew it.
He was using the crazy amount of current against me, hoping I would break. Forget it. I wasn’t interested.
