50 - Passenger
Cordelia
“If you pull something like this again, Cordelia. I swear to God, I’ll shackle you to me for fucking eternity.”
Logan hasn’t released me yet. I’m currently trapped within the circle of his muscular arms, where I’ve spent the last ten minutes. At least.
After coming to a mutual agreement with Cillian Delaney, Vincenzo cut me loose and dragged me outside, whilst Logan’s uncle and father finalised the deal.
I tried to fight, but I might as well have been challenging an immovable brick wall.
Ezio’s father is just as imposing as the rest, despite the slightly more athletic genes that run through the Moretti lineage.
Every muscle aches from being bound. My dress is sodden with my own saliva and snot. Logan doesn’t care, or if he does, he hasn’t made any indication of it. They’re all probably used to much worse bodily fluids: blood, urine—let’s stop that train of thought right there.
Clarke snorts behind me.
“Already doing that in a few months, amigo.”
Logan raises a brow, not breaking eye contact with me. His irises glow vivid blue. They lit up the room earlier.
“Physically,” he adds. “You will not leave my fucking side.”
“Alright, alright,” I concede. He plants another kiss on my lips, to silence me, but I lean back. just out of reach. “You don’t even believe in God.”
“Pfft. Semantics,” he shrugs before pulling me closer to capture my lips. I let out a muffled groan into his mouth, because since he got me back, he won’t stop kissing me. And I want to kiss him, I really do, but my jaw is sore from the gag, and now my lips are swollen too.
His kisses haven’t been gentle either; his grip brutal, breath wild and erratic with desire.
Fingers raking through my hair, fists clutching onto it like a lifeline.
A turbulent frenzy of passion and desperation fused with the urgency for bloodshed.
I’ve slowly come to realise that nothing else can placate the man.
To some extent, holding me in his arms, with my cool skin brushing against his warmth, calms him.
But even now, as he ravages me with his mouth, his muscles coiled tight, his back ramrod straight, and his eyes hunger for destruction.
Desolation.
Logan’s hot-headedness is something I’m learning to come to terms with.
I force myself to pull back from his kiss. And the little whimper he lets out has me tearing up all over again. He attempts to reconnect us, but I shake my head vigorously.
“No more. My jaw aches and my lips are sore. I feel like I’ve been stung by a dozen bees.”
“Sorry,” Logan’s breath comes out ragged. “I just fucking love you.”
A small smile finds my lips.
Our moment ends abruptly when Cillian strides through the open archway with his confident swagger. A low rumble sounds from Logan’s throat, and I have to prod him in the chest to keep him from pouncing on him.
“See you at the wedding,” the cocky Irishman slings over his shoulder before breezing towards the exit.
“What the fuck!” Logan starts, but I press my finger to his lips, an authoritative look flashing over my features.
“It’s part of the deal,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
Logan’s eyes narrow until only a slither of the storm wielding inside can be seen.
Clarke flips his switchblade in the air, conveniently catching it as Cillian walks past him. And I swear, Ezio, who’s been sitting patiently on an empty container, feet crossed out in front of him; stretches his long legs out hoping to trip Cillian on his way out.
Vincenzo appears in the doorway to call the guy’s back through and when I attempt to slink through myself, Clarke blocks the way with a hand splayed either side of the wooden frame. He shakes his head, dark eyes shadowed by even darker lashes. My gaze snaps up.
Over his shoulder I spot my childhood friend; face like ashen concrete, bucking against the bindings whilst Marco manhandles him, attempting to shove the gag into his mouth.
“Cordelia!” he screams my name between helpless breaths, and the pure desperation in his voice is gut-wrenching.
“Let me through,” I demand, fingers snaking out to dig into his shoulder. Clarke hisses and stares at me as if I’ve just kicked his metaphorical dog. Logan growls behind me, and my hand drops heavy to the side.
“Ez. Take her home,” Clarke’s voice is firm, shadowed gaze level with mine.
“Do I not get a say in this?” I question, fingers balling into fists of frustration at my side. Tears well behind my eyes as my voice threatens to break.
“Absolutely fucking not.” Clarke and Logan say in unison. Like a comedy duo–if joking was grotesque violence torture.
Logan’s huge strides eat up the space between us.
I narrow my eyes at him, but his expression doesn’t falter.
“You’re going home, Cordelia. It’s not up for discussion.
” His tone has that infuriating no-nonsense timbre that he so often chooses to switch on around me.
“Trust me. You don’t want to be here for this. ”
“For what?” I squeak the words out, a tear trickling down my cheek. I grab his shirt at the collar, fisting the cotton between my shaky fingers. “Please Logan. Please, if you have any kind of decency left inside of you. Please don’t make it painful. Don’t let him suffer.”
Logan inhales a deep breath, unable to hold eye contact with me. It’s clear all he can think about right now is revenge.
“Promise me, Logan.”
As more tears break through my defence barriers, I steal one last look at Theo and spin on my heel. Only I don’t get even halfway before strong arms haul me back. His lips crash against mine, wild, yet merciful. Like there’s an unspoken apology buried deep within the desire.
When he finally pulls away, we’re both spent. Pupils blown.
“I’ll do my best,” he says softly, pressing his nose to mine.
I inhale his scent, drowning in the fusion of spice and leather, mixed with whatever delectable pheromones pour from his god-like body.
Even now, as his hot breath kisses my skin, my body pines for him.
Logan lets out a low, breathy chuckle. He knows the maddening effect he has on me, and he never misses an opportunity to utilise it.
With a gentle tug, Ezio pulls me away, and we make our way outside. For a moment I stand there motionless, staring up at the cracked windows, letting the chill wind tussle with the ruffles on my satin dress. The cold is jarring, but somehow freeing.
“C’mon, Bella. You’ll catch a cold out here, and I don’t want to deal with the aftermath of that.”
With a final glance, I make my way to Ezio’s Mercedes, parked alongside various other cars that weren’t here when I arrived. All very expensive, I might add. I climb into the leather seat, which to my horror has been pre-warmed.
“Turn the heat off, Ez. I’m running at a temperature of like forty degrees here.”
He laughs but presses the button, dimming the orange light. Ezio’s driving skills are interesting, shall we say? He’s not one for waiting around for other drivers to make decisions, and he certainly doesn’t like to keep to the speed limit.
“Putain!” I shriek as he swerves us around a corner, narrowly missing rolling the car on the curb. “You drive like a rally driver!”
He side-eyes me, lips curling up at one side into a smile.
“I am a rally driver, Cordelia.”
“You’re what?”
He focuses back on the road. “Every weekend I’m on the track,” he explains casually, tapping his fingers on the leather to the heavy beat of the music blaring through the stereo. “Well, except for the one where you made us chase you across town.”
“You were kidnapping me! What did you expect?” My voice takes on a high-pitched squeak I’m not proud of, but it makes Ezio laugh either way.
“That explains why you were so blase taking stupid risks when you were chasing me,” I say, the realisation slapping me in the face.
I never had a chance that night. “And they seriously trust you to drive the pregnant woman home?”
He laughs heartily again, throwing his head back. It seems being the designated driver is his happy place. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the green in his eyes so vibrant or illuminated. But I wish he’d keep them focused on the damn road.
“I am the safest driver, Bella.” As if to prove his point, he reaches over to grab his bottle from the cup holder in the centre panel.
He takes a swig, keeping his right hand on the wheel whilst cruising at breakneck speed down the straight road.
Screwing the cap on, he throws it into my lap.
“I spend half my life behind the wheel.”
I snort at the jagged green M emblazoned across the front and scowl at the rancid stench wafting from the empty bottle.
“That’s concerning.”
Ezio shrugs, completely unaffected by my dig.
“What will they do with Th—Dominic?” I correct myself.
His fingers curl tight around the leather, and he lets out a sigh.
“You know what they’re going to do, Bella.”
I blink. Despite what I know about him now, it doesn’t alter the memories of the years spent with him as Theodore Fontaine. Teddy. Teddy bear. My eyes become glassy, tears trying to force their way through once again. What am I going to tell the rest of my friends back home?
“He was lying to you the whole time,” Ezio says, lips flattened in a thin line. “He knowingly put you in the firing line. He didn’t have to send that picture to his cousin, and we’re lucky it never got any further.”
I swipe the tear before it falls.
“I know, but...”
My voice breaks, fading to nothingness, and we fall into a heavy silence.
Ezio kills the music, allowing me some much-needed time to ponder my thoughts, which I appreciate.
He also stops jerking the car around every corner, which my stomach appreciates.
With my head lolling against the leather headrest, the continuous motion of the car slowly lulls me into a slumber. So, I shut my eyes and let it take me.
After the last few days, sleep has become a thing of the past. My routine has gone out the window; now I’m struggling more to find a comfortable position. I usually sleep with my head against Logan’s chest, but that’s no longer possible.
At some point during the drive, Ezio lay his jacket over me. I was so heavily distracted by the masked driver on the way, I never noticed the distance we travelled to reach the warehouse.
I wake to an immense pain twisting in my lower groin. My eyes fly open. The intensity leaves me breathless. At first, I thought it might be bad gas or heartburn. I’ve experienced both whilst carrying this little hellion in my belly.
But then the pain strikes again. And it’s almost unbearable.
“Welcome back, sleepyhead,” Ezio says, though his words sound slurred in my head. “We’re nearly home.”
He takes one look at me, and his dark brows knot together. “You okay? Bella?”
The gasp I respond with has his green eyes bulging out of their sockets. I let out a shrill scream, filling the car with my high-pitched sobs. My body feels like it’s being ripped apart from the inside.
“Cordelia?” Ezio’s focus darts between me and the road ahead like a yoyo.
My mouth opens, but I can’t answer him. I’m too busy concentrating on breathing through the burn.
If I don’t get to the toilet soon, I’m going to cover the merc in explosive diarrhoea.
Which would make for the most single embarrassing moment of my life.
A sudden gush of liquid coats my thighs, trickling down my legs into the footwell. I stare in horror at it.
“Hospital,” I barely manage to squeak. “I think he’s coming.”
“What?” Ezio questions incredulously. “He can’t be! He’s five weeks too early.”
I scream again, fresh tears stinging my eyelids.
“I don’t think babies work on a schedule,” I grit out between clenched teeth, squirming against the leather. “Get Logan.”
“Fuck!” Ezio yells, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. His fingers press several buttons on the console before the universal ring tone echoes through the speaker, followed by Logan’s voicemail.
Ironically, it’s the famous quote from Taken.
“Fuck!” Ezio hammers the end call button. “None of them will answer because they’re all in the same place doing the same fucking thing. You can’t have him in my car, Cordelia. I don’t know how to deliver a baby.”
Ezio is usually the calm in the middle of a raging sea. There aren’t many situations that faze him. Nice to know women in labour are one of them. At least I’m guessing that's what’s making me think my uterus is being crushed in a fucking vice right now.
I bite my tongue through another contraction, and the tang of blood bursts across my tongue.
“I don’t plan on having you deliver this fucking baby, Ezio. Just get me to the hospital.”
He nods. “Ok. Permission to drive fast again?”
“Absolutely.”