Giovanna's home was a mansion west of Brookhaven surrounded by acres of parkland and gardens. All brick, classic Georgian Revival, with a tiered entrance court above the rear lawn.
It had eight bedrooms, a private courtyard with a fountain, stone patios and porches, a wood-paneled library, a sunroom with plants and patio furniture, a gym, and a massive garage.
Martina had gushed about Giovanna's home. She'd told me all about the gorgeous crown moldings and intricate wooden detail.
Focusing on the property was better than dwelling on the fact I was zip-tied.
If I could reach my phone.
Dad would move hell and earth to save me, but he didn't stand a chance against Giovanna. I couldn't call him.
Snitching on Giovanna wasn't an option, either. And I wasn't winning any fights.
What could I do?
Escape.
All I had to do was keep quiet until things settled down.
She had no idea about the Toyota with Oregon plates, and the extra ten thousand I'd wired into a separate savings account. If I framed my flight as a knee-jerk reaction, she'd forgive me.
I'd apologize, play along with her bullshit games, and act like the perfect fiancée.
It'd take time, but she would lower her guard. Then I'd escape.
A wicked tension headache slammed me as I considered what would be involved. Planning the wedding? Lavishing her with attention? Warming her bed?
When I couldn't tolerate the suspense any longer, wheels crunched the driveway, which looped to a home whose outdoor lights illuminated gorgeous landscaping.
Shadows played on the brick. We parked, and the engine cut off.
Giovanna left the car. After she exchanged words with the driver, she helped me out.
"Come."
At Giovanna's gentle urging, I moved forward.
She opened the wrought-iron gate, ushering me toward the red door.
A blast of warmth engulfed my body as I stepped into a vibrant foyer. The blinding whiteness of the walls surprised me, as did the six large black-and-white photos right above her console table.
In one, a vivacious woman hugged a much younger Giovanna. Her sister?
More framed pictures crowded the mahogany. Small details jumped out, hinting that they were all members of her family.
My fear staggered as she pulled me away from the portraits and guided me upstairs.
I wound up like a spring as we reached the first landing.
She palmed the French doors. They swung into a carpeted bedroom with a king-sized bed.
The sight of it set me on high alert.
She removed her jacket with aching slowness and tossed it onto a chair, her shirt still sprinkled with damp spots.
Without the blazer, her bare arms took center stage. Bigger, compared to Vittorio's.
Everything about Giovanna was harsh. Her skin rougher. Her features more angular.
Women like her just wanted their ego stroked.
If I gushed about her strength and dwelled on how insignificant and stupid I was by comparison, she'd tone down the aggression.
Before I opened my mouth, I glimpsed something that chilled my blood.
A knife in Giovanna's grip.
She started forward.
My heart seized when she clutched my forearms. A sharp edge pressed into my palm. I swallowed a scream as a firm pressure scraped against plastic.
The bonds snapped, and the tension holding my wrists disappeared.
I stared at my freed hands.
Giovanna stowed the blade in her nightstand, bleeding indifference as she pushed me onto the mattress.
I jumped when she threw my bag at my feet.
"Open it," she barked.
"W-what for?"
"Do what I say."
I wasn't thrilled with exposing my neck to Giovanna, but I bent to grab the bag. I unzipped the backpack as she hovered.
"Take out everything."
Nausea swirled in my gut as I laid it all out on the bed. She swiped the brick of cash from me and flipped through the bills.
"Five grand. Who gave you this?"
Giovanna's voice turned sour when I didn't answer. "Tell me, or I'll visit Vittorio."
"It's mine. Saved up from holidays and—and whatever my dad gave me."
That was a lie. I'd skimmed from my father's many businesses for years to prepare for my escape, but Giovanna probably thought I was a high-maintenance brat.
"Why not deposit it?"
"Dad—Dad always said that there's nothing better than cash on hand."
"For criminals, not law-abiding citizens. What's this?"
She grabbed photos of the redwood forest in Northern St. Edmunds. I could see her bewilderment growing as she shuffled through pieces I'd stuck on my vision board.
"Running away to the forest?"
"They're vacation spots." Asshole. "I planned to take a bus across the states."
That wasn't a complete falsehood. I'd planned a big road trip with a used car I'd secretly bought.
"Where did you want to go?"
"The Great Plains, Grand Canyon."
I wanted to lounge on beaches, ride cable cars, and then disappear, which was as far from Brookhaven as I could get.
Well out of Giovanna's reach.
When I escaped, I would change my name, enroll in college, and date women whose last names didn't end in a vowel.
I'd work at a business that wasn't owned by my father. Volunteer at more at-risk youth organizations to help kids before they became Vittorios.
I would be free.
"A vacation, huh? Life as a boss' daughter must be tough." Her cavalier tone twisted a knife in my rib cage.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
The fatigue was getting to me, wearing me down. My skull throbbed as though a spike hammered my brain.
She wouldn't understand. She didn't care.
I met her glare, determined to suck it up and lie, but I couldn't wade above the sadness for another second.
The way she'd tossed my photos aside, as though they were meaningless, clenched the fist holding my heart.
"I didn't just want a break. I had to escape."
Her brows rose. "Go on."
"My sister went missing. Mom and Dad are a mess. I was beside myself with grief. It was horrible, but I couldn't leave them after she died. So I put my plans on the back burner."
"Until me."
"The last straw."
"Why leave?"
Her voice was softer than velvet, and that somehow made it worse.
I shook my head. I barely held in the despair.
"You don't give a shit."
"Get it out. I'll listen."
Giovanna sat next to me, her thigh pressing mine. She touched my cheek, the silky caress knocking Vittorio's heavy petting out of the stratosphere.
"You'll mock me."
"I won't."
What the hell was she doing? Trying to gain my trust?
When I didn't speak, her arm slid across my back. It tightened around my body and anchored at my hip. Then she dragged me like I weighed nothing.
My legs glided over her lap, and suddenly, I was pinned to her blissfully warm chest.
"What are you doing?"
"Just relax." Her voice boomed through me. "Relax."
Years of constant vigilance had wired me to expect anything, but everything about her felt good.
The hand stroking my hair. Her protective arms. The swells of her breathing. Her hot skin. I wanted to close my eyes and sink into the bottomless pleasure.
Even weirder was the impulse screaming to hold her.
"Tell me."
And then it burst from my lips.
"I hate it here. I can't stand the violence, and I'm sick of funerals. It's one tragedy after another. My sister was murdered, and my dad will probably be killed. That's all my life has ever been, and I deserve something better. I wanted to be like everyone else. Free. So you can threaten me all you want. I don't care anymore because I've lost the only thing that matters."
"You haven't."
I sank into the crook of her shoulder as I shook with silent sobs. It was as though a puppeteer had cut the strings controlling my limbs.
I sagged into her, returning the embrace.
God, I needed this.
I dug into her back and tried not to make her shirt a wet mess.
Falling apart in a stranger's arms was so embarrassing. Especially when said stranger abducted me from the street and was rumored to be among Brookhaven's most ruthless mobsters.
Giovanna held me like it was the first of many times. Her touch whispered across my collar and kneaded my shoulders.
"You're exhausted. You need to sleep."
She yanked the comforter and tucked me in.
When she pulled away, I clung to her shirt. "Don't go."
I didn't know how I got here—from fighting to begging—in minutes.
Giovanna hesitated.
I couldn't see much of her in the dark, but the little of her I made out was pensive.
Brow furrowed, she removed her shoes and dove into the sheets. The mattress groaned, and her body touched mine. She rolled me onto her chest.
"Sleep."
She wiped a strand of hair from my eyes and hooked it behind my ear.
When her hand glided to my jaw, I turned my head to feel more of her.
Giovanna obliged, cupping my cheek. The tension headache lifted, filling me with drowsy ecstasy.
I sighed.
Her mouth twitched into a smile, which was real, nothing like the jaded smirks she usually threw at me.
"Sleep."
Her velvet-soft voice was like a spell as I sprawled on her, sinking further into oblivion.