His lips brush the shell of my ear. “That would be a stupid thing to do.”
His voice is low and vibrates through my skin, sinking straight into my bloodstream. For one stupid, traitorous second, heat coils low in my belly. His breath fans hot against my neck, his grip firm but not bruising, and something inside me flickers, confuses danger with something darker, something that makes my thighs clench before I can stop it.
I snap myself back.
He’s going to kidnap you. Or worse.
The reminder brings me back to my senses.
I thrash, trying to twist free. His hold tightens just enough to remind me he’s not letting go.
“Stop,” he snaps. “Be a good girl,” he murmurs, lips still grazing my ear, “and I won’t have to signal my man over there to put abullet in your sister’s head.” He pauses, lets the words sink in. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
The fight drains out of me like someone pulled a plug. My eyes lock on Camilla again. She’s still engrossed in conversation, head tilted, smiling, completely unaware that a killer is standing at her back.
From here, we can see her clearly through a gap in the foliage, but the angle and the roses hide us from her view. One wrong move and that laugh ends in a gunshot.
“So which is it going to be?” His voice stays low, reasonable, like we’re negotiating dinner plans. “Either way, you’re leaving here with me.”
I nod. Slowly.
He feels the change in me, the way my body goes still, and his grip eases fractionally. Not enough to let go.
“Wise decision,” he murmurs, voice low and satisfied. His hand closes around my upper arm, firm, and he starts steering me away from the garden corridor.
We move toward the service exit tucked behind the cathedral, gravel crunching under our steps. A black SUV idles there, engine purring like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.
I let my steps slow, just a little, enough to pull against his grip and throw off his pace. He adjusts without looking back, tugging me forward.
I twist my wrist, trying to slip free. His fingers shift, cutting off every angle before it goes anywhere.
I lean in and snap my teeth at his hand, catching skin. He doesn’t flinch, looks at me instead, eyes unreadable. His grip changes, now rougher, and he keeps walking. I’m forced to move with him
Where the hell are Papa’s men? The security detail that’s supposed to be everywhere. Useless when it matters most.
“You’re making a big mistake,” I say. “My father will come after you. He’ll find you. And when he does, he’ll kill you slow.”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, like I just told a mildly funny joke. “You really believe your father’s some kind of superhero, don’t you?”
He’s not. Massimo Caruso is ruthless. He’s never been a hero to any of us. But the alliance with Matteo Gallo is everything. Letting the bride disappear means letting that deal bleed out. He’ll burn this city down before he lets that happen.
“My father will have his men on you the second he realizes I’m gone,” I tell him. “Let’s see who’s laughing then.”
He doesn’t break stride. “I’ll be waiting when Daddy dearest decides to show.”
We reach the SUV. The back door opens before we get there. He maneuvers me in first, then slides in beside me. The driver pulls away smoothly.
My kidnapper reaches into his jacket, pulls out a zip tie. Before I can react, he’s looping it around my wrists, pulling it snug but not cutting circulation. His eyes lock on mine.
“Do I have to tape your mouth, or are you going to behave?”
I press my lips together hard, swallowing the surge of fury that wants to spill out in a scream. I have no idea who he is or what he wants from me. But one thing is clear, if I’m getting out of this alive, it starts with playing smart.
He raises a thick brow, waiting.
I nod.
“Good.”
