“Then you better run, Ms. Sophie.”
40
VIN
I’m laying on my bed, wearing nothing but a towel, so fucking tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Water droplets from my shower linger on my chest. I wonder if Sophie will be mad that I’m getting the bed wet.
Right about now, Sophie is being escorted back to my room, our room. I half smile, imagining her reaction. She’s not going to like it, but it’s fucking necessary. And not just because I need her.
There’s a crash out in the hallway and pounding of feet. I turn my head to see Sophie out of breath, her hair wild, her eyes even wilder, huffing in the doorway.
“What. The. FRIG. Vincenzo!” She drops her chin to her chest trying to catch her breath in gasps.
I smile and wait. She’s not done.
“This is NOT freaking okay!” She steps into the room and jabs her finger at me with each word. “I came here in good faith, and you— you—”
“I’m keeping you safe, Sophie. It’s my job.” I run my hand over my face and stretch out on the bed.
“No. No, it’s definitely not. I promised you I’d support you today. That’s it. That’s all. Not moving in. Not being under your ‘protection’ or whatever you call this hostage situation. Not having your men manhandle me.”
Rage spikes through me and I lift my head. “Who fucking touched you?”
Jett and Darius show up behind her, heaving in breaths, and I stare them down.
“Sorry, Sir. She… she’s fast,” Jett says, wiping his brow.
“Did you put your fucking hands on her?” I lean up on my elbow, sneering at his reddening face.
Jett and Darius dart a glance at each other and Jett rubs the back of his neck. “Sir, I took her arm but when she fought me, I let her go.”
Sophie snaps her head back and forth between us and jumps in between me and Jett.
“No you don’t, Vincenzo! Don’t you put this on them! You ordered them to lock me up in your room, and you knew I wasn’t going to go easy. Or at all!”
“Let me see your arm,” I growl.
“Absolutely not. I’m going home.”
“Sophia, if you don’t show me your arm, these two will be dead within the hour.”
Darius looks at the floor, and Jett glances at Sophie who glares at me.
Finally she scowls and stomps over to me, pushing up her sleeve. “See? Nothing. Totally fine. Now it’s time to end this little game of yours, Vin. I want to leave.”
There are no marks on her arm, which is good for those fucking buffoons that cannot seem to handle my woman. I lay back down flat on the bed.
“Sophie, the Irish blew up my father’s funeral. People are dead because I’m not marrying Ashlyn. Do you think theyaren’tlooking for you? Do you think if they had the chance they wouldn’t end you, your restaurant, and your staff to send me a message?”
She’s quiet, as I knew she would be.
“You don’t think… You think the Irish did this?” I watch her through my eyelashes. Is she thinking about her little fuck of a boyfriend? Or is she worried about her staff? “Do you think they’ll go to my restaurant even if I’m not there?”
Her voice is small, all of her shrinks, and I relax. At least she’s not thinking about that fucker.
“No, princess. I don’t think they will, but I have people posted around and inside it just in case.”
Her eyes widen in fear.
