Chapter 30 – Amanda
Hefting the basket on the crook of my elbow, I wandered the short aisles of the delicatessen.
In this store, there were a few very basic brand names that could be found in an American supermarket.
But one of my favorite parts of both Boston and New York City was that these smaller groceries had international brands.
It was like traveling without needing to board a plane.
Before I tackled any more items on my mile long to-do list, I needed a few staples, since there was no fresh food in my family’s Boston home.
It felt strange to be in this city by myself.
I rarely stayed here if there wasn’t family in town.
When my dad and stepmom were here, the butler or maids ensured the kitchen was stocked.
Since I did my own shopping and meal prep when I was in New York, it wasn’t too weird to take care of the mundane task.
But now, without a highly demanding job, I felt…
normal. This was what average families did, a core part of what their week revolved around.
They worked hard to provide for themselves, not committing a slow suicide to chase the rungs on a corporate ladder.
I wandered, gaze drifting over the shelves.
This slowed down ritual might be good for me.
The shop had steady traffic. The cold cut counter was the popular area. Some tourists munched on sandwiches at one of the three tables placed on the far wall. By noon, this place would be packed.
I grabbed the bag of rice, turned the corner, and went to the dairy section. While looking over the differently sized chunks of Parmigiano-Reggiano, there was a stir behind me.
The grizzly man, still in his white apron and cap, hustled out from behind the deli counter. He waved his arms, shooing the customers out the front doors.
The proprietor looked right at me as he passed, shook his head once, and scurried past.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I called after him.
But the man was already out the door, turning, and locking it behind him. I looked down at my groceries, then around the empty shop. Other carts had been abandoned, and a heap of prosciutto was waiting for the rest to be cut off. The sandwich sat half made beside it.
Confusion bloomed into a trickle of dread.
If the grey, stocky proprietor hadn’t looked directly at me, I would have thought he’d missed me in his rush to empty and close the store. But he had. I set my basket in the cooler and began to walk down the aisle to the glass front door. Surely he hadn’t left me in here on purpose…right?
“You’ve been a busy girl this morning, Amanda.”
The familiar voice sent a rush of relief through me. That deep, velvety voice promised safety. From everything but him.
Shaking myself, it took another second to realize what was happening.
“You called in a favor, I assume? Or did you order the owner to shut his deli under the threat of pain and suffering?” I accused.
“He was happy to accommodate us.”
Accommodate us? Those words shouldn’t have little bottle rockets popping in my veins. This was just another twist in whatever insane game Vincenzo was playing.
You’re playing too now. And you like the game.
I snorted. That wasn’t something I was going to admit. Retracing my steps, I emerged in the back of the store, where the meat counter and sandwich area was. “Aren’t you taking this stalking thing to another level?”
“It seems that way.” Vincenzo leaned against the domed cooler, packed with cured meats. “Why else would you pay a locksmith to make an emergency visit to your house?”
That had been at the crack of dawn, the first thing I’d done after waking up with sore muscles reminding me of the nocturnal intrusion.
“I upgraded the security system too,” I said with a hint of smugness.
The way he studied me had my breath catching in the back of my throat.
“I know.” Vincenzo ran a white cloth through his fingers. A kitchen towel. “But you’re not going to get rid of me that easily, fiore.”
“Clearly,” I muttered. I should hate that. But seeing so much of him, so frequently, was making me all confused. He’d left me to sleep a mere eight hours ago. “What do you want, Vincenzo?”
That fierce brown gaze darkened. “You. On your knees. Confessing your sins.”
I choked. My hand smacked against my chest, and I gaped. “Excuse me?”
He continued to stare, silent and steady. An immovable presence I wasn’t going to escape. At least, not escape any time soon.
Might as well play along. Lust fired through my veins. “You’re dreaming.”
“Am I?” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Should we test that theory?”
“No!” I planted my hands on my hips.
Vincenzo pushed off the cooler and strode forward. There was no point running. I wasn’t in any real danger. But that knowledge didn’t tame the rush in my veins. The flight or fight instinct kicked into overdrive as he prowled closer.
When he was five feet away, he slowed the next step and arched a brow.
He knew me. Knew that I wasn’t going to stand there and take it.
I shoved the display. Boxes toppled down, tumbling over his path. Several hit his head as he lunged.
But I was already sprinting in the other direction. With a breathless scream, I made it to the backroom. There had to be an exit somewhere. I scrambled through the boxes and flat carts, my heart hammering wildly.
“You’re not escaping,” Vincenzo called out. “Not this time.”
“Don’t you have anything else to do except stalk me?” I called back, but I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer to that.
What he said sent a rush of unwanted delight through me.
“There is nothing I’d rather do than chase you, fiore.” He was close. I felt the energy of his body, the heat, the raw masculine power, right before his rough hands snatched my waist. “Because when I catch you, I fuck you.”
“Enzo!”
But he was already lifting me in the air.
I crashed into a pile of empty boxes. Not hard. Nothing dangerous. As I squirmed about, trying to right myself, his hands clamped around my wrists. Hauling me to my feet, something metal flicked. And then the cuff was around my right wrist.
“Enzo, what the hell?” I shouted.
It cinched around my left.
Pulling me back a few feet, Vincenzo lifted my hands and draped the center of the cuff over a hook that dangled from the ceiling by a chain—why there was a hook and chain back here didn’t seem important right now.
He grabbed the length, pulling the chain so my arms lifted high.
My feet were still on the floor, but my arms hung suspended over my head.
Triumph glittered in his eyes. “Now, I’m going to punish you for changing the locks.”
“Why?” I insisted. “It was a perfectly natural thing to do!”
“You’re not getting rid of me, Amanda. You still haven’t figured that out yet.”
And just like that, the fun fizzled out, and the games grew serious.
“This isn’t funny.” I tugged on my arms. “I have real problems. I can’t spend my days being chased and tied up by you!”
“It’s Monday…. Shouldn’t you be working?” He pulled the kitchen towel from his back pocket.
I grit my teeth. Hello salt, meet wound.
“Ah, it’s true then.”
“What?” I snapped.
“I heard you lost your job.” Running the length through his fingers once more, he reached for me. “But you’ll find another firm. You’re too brilliant for someone not to hire you.”
A small ache clenched around my heart. Those words were sincere.
I leaned away. “This isn’t some joke, this is my life!”
“Our life.” He draped the towel over my eyes, tugged it around my head, and tied it tightly. The world plunged into darkness. I couldn’t open my eyes against the soft cotton.
“You filed the marriage license,” I gasped.
“I did. First thing this morning.”
“And you forged my name, I assume?”
The monster only smiled.
“Damn you,” I hissed.
“Mind telling me why we can’t be married?” he growled against my ear. “Or why you didn’t stay in New York?” His fingers slid down the column of my neck. “Why you came all the way out here just to argue with me?”
The sound of my hard breathing filled the air. He was good. He sensed the nightmare under the surface tension.
“I didn’t choose you,” I bit out. “I don’t want to be bound to you!”
“There is no future, Amanda, where you and I aren’t together.” The dark promise scalded the skin on my throat. His lips pressed against my pulse, soothing the burn. “Unless you want to give me a concrete reason?”
I didn’t.
Vincenzo hummed. “I see.”
No, he didn’t.
But he was already forcing my head back, crushing his mouth to mine.
The kiss was hungry. I was powerless to stop it.
To stop him. And if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to.
He felt good. Maybe because he was familiar.
Maybe something more. His tongue slid into my mouth, and I groaned.
Whatever it was that made me respond to him like this was dangerous. He devoured my mouth.
I let him.
I wanted him to never stop.
Right as I was about to surrender to the tidal wave, he broke away. His retreating footsteps echoed across the floor. In the distance, a myriad of small noises sounded. I couldn’t make any of them out. I was almost certain one was the handles of a shopping basket falling.
The muted sense of sight was torture!
“Vincenzo,” I cried out in frustration. Because now I was tied and horny.
I twisted and tried to rub the blindfold off against my arm. But the monster had tied it too tightly. Too busy struggling, I didn’t hear him return.
“What a bad girl,” he laughed darkly.
I stiffened.
But because of the situation, I didn’t see the instrument coming. There was a small whistle and then a crack as something—not his hand—swatted against my bottom.
I gasped and strained, leaning as far as I could to get away from that. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Vincenzo gripped the waistband of my trousers. He delivered another stinging blow against my backside. “I’m going to paddle this pretty little ass until it’s red.”
“No,” I choked out. “Ow, Enzo!”