My driver has the door open for me and as I’m stuffing the wildcat inside, she manages to land a glancing blow to my temple with one flailing hand. My driver goes for his gun, but I shake my head and wave him away. She’s no threat to me, lucky blow or otherwise.
She inhales sharply as I shove her into the seat then jerk the seat belt across her, buckling her up even as she tenses, ready for another round. Safety first for my future wife.
‘You were a lot less trouble when you were five,gattina,’I tell her.
‘Bastard,’ she spits as the car pulls away from the kerb, the rest of my men following in other cars behind us. ‘I’m not a little cat. And you didn’t need to throw me over your shoulder like a sack of bloody potatoes! I would have come quietly.’
‘Would you?’ I give my temple a theatrical rub. ‘I’ve killed men for less than that blow you just gave me.’
She glances at my forehead then back at me, not an ounce of contrition in her emerald gaze. ‘Kill me then. I should have hit you harder.’
‘My,’ I murmur, amused by her fire. ‘So bloodthirsty.’ And it’s strangely refreshing. I can’t remember the last time a woman was so furious with me, or at least not so openly. People tend to tread lightly whenever I’m around.
I sit back in my seat and take a moment to study her.
She’s radiating anger, glowering at me like I’m not the most feared man in all of Europe, though I suspect that beneath that fury, she’s afraid. But she’s not giving in to it and that takes a certain amount of courage.
Interesting. It seems my bride-to-be is a little warrior, though she doesn’t look like one, dressed as she is in a flamboyant white wedding gown and veil. Her tiara is slightly askew and some of her glossy black hair has come out of its pins, and her pale skin is flushed with temper.
The little girl I protected has blossomed into a very pretty woman, it seems. Not that I require her to be pretty or indeed anything other than being a Salvatore. Her name and her value as a hostage are the most important things.
‘I could in fact kill you,’ I say. ‘Would you like that?’
‘That’s why you took me, isn’t it?’ Her pointed chin lifts, her expression half defiant, half imperious. ‘So you could finish the job you started twenty years ago?’
So, the littlegattinaremembers me. I wasn’t sure if she did.
‘If I wanted to do that, you’d be dead already,’ I observe. ‘But you were right back there in the cathedral.’
Her long, thick black lashes flutter as she blinks rapidly. ‘You kidnapping me, you mean? Oh…’ Understanding dawns. ‘I’m a hostage.’
I give her a slow smile, because I do like an intelligent woman. ‘Excellent answer. Ten points to you.’
‘My father will—’
‘Your father,’ I interrupt, ‘is irrelevant, no matter what he will or won’t do. I’m afraid,gattina, no one is going to save you this time.’
The delicate bow of her mouth, highlighted by some kind of shimmery pink lipstick, compresses into a line and fear flickers briefly in her eyes.
I expect her to cower in her seat, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stares back at me, undaunted despite her fear. ‘So? I’m going to be your prisoner?’
‘No,gattina,’ I correct her gently. ‘You’re going to be my wife.’
Chapter Three
Caterina
THE AIR INthe car feels as if all the oxygen has been replaced by something else, something sparking and electric and tense. I’m already breathless from being thrown over this despicable man’s shoulder and carried ignominiously from the cathedral—admittedly, I have only myself to blame for that—but what he’s said just now has taken away what little breath I have left.
His wife? Hiswife?
He’s leaning back in his seat as if he’s at home, lounging in a favourite chair, one foot propped on the opposite knee, his large, long-fingered hands loose on his thighs. He’s overwhelming close up, his kinetic, violent presence filling the car, while his intense silver gaze burns into me.
The man of my nightmares is right here and not only has he taken me hostage, now he’s telling me he’s going to make me his wife.
I almost can’t take it in.
‘It’s a shock, I know,’ he says, his voice deep and lazy, a thread of dark amusement winding through it. ‘Luckily though, you’re already dressed for the occasion.’
