11
Liv
I’m trying to stay calm, but it’s a losing battle.
The guy I’ve been secretly digging into for weeks now has me wrapped up in a sheet like a damn burrito, completely naked underneath.
And now, he leaves me here with two hulking goons while he storms off to have what looks like a very animated conversation with Antonio.
At least I manage to spit out the stupid piece of fabric the jerk shoved in my mouth to gag me with.
Seriously, can’t a girl catch a break?
I just hope Antonio isn’t too pissed about Cindy.
I’ve seen how these guys handle problems.
Making people disappear is practically their specialty.
And I should know, they did a thorough job of making my parents vanish.
The shouting from Alessio snaps me out of my dark thoughts.
He’s gesturing wildly with his hands while he talks to Antonio.
When Antonio points at the car I’m in, the panic starts to bubble in my chest .
“Don’t mind him, he’s always like this,” the mountain of a man in the driver’s seat says, glancing back at me.
“Don’t talk to her, Kota. She isn’t the Don’s woman; we don’t need to play nice with this bitch,” the passenger snaps.
“Fuck off, Alonzo. I’ll do what I fucking want,” Kota growls, making Alonzo cower a bit.
A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth, at Alonzo’s discomfort…
dumbass.
“What are you laughing at, stupida puttana ?” Alonzo snaps.
Like I just insulted him.
I mean, I did, but not out loud.
I arch an eyebrow and try to keep my cool.
“Oh, nothing. Just enjoying the show.”
Alonzo mutters something that sounds like troia under his breath.
I can’t believe this jerk just called me a slut.
I keep my reaction in check because I don’t want him to know I understand Italian.
“Watch your fucking mouth, stronzo ,” Kota seethes.
Alonzo being called an asshole is honestly pretty fitting.
I appreciate the way Kota stands up to Alonzo.
Maybe I need to be on his good side, he seems like the only one who’s thinking straight.
Maybe if I can win him over, he’ll help me get out of this mess.
Alonzo’s lips press into a pout, his shoulders slumping like a bratty kid who didn’t get his way.
His arms cross over his chest, and he lets out a loud, dramatic huff before turning away from me, facing forward where Alessio and Antonio are locked in what looks like a very serious argument.
I try to catch what they’re saying, but their voices are too low.
Alessio looks like he’s about to puke, his usual olive complexion looks ghostly pale.
Then he does something I don’t expect.
He drags a hand through his golden hair, and his fingers grip the strands like he’s trying to physically hold himself together.
Okay…
what the hell is going on?
Antonio says something else, and Alessio jerks a stiff nod before turning on his heel and stalking toward the car behind us.
I watch him go, brows knitting together.
So, it’s not just me having a bad night.
We drive for what feels like forever.
The second the car slows to a stop, my stomach twists.
I don’t need to see where we are to know I’m not going to like it.
Then the headlights sweep over the tarmac, and I see the jet, a damn jet .
If my heart wasn’t slamming against my ribs, I might be impressed, but nope.
Absolutely fucking not.
Alonzo quickly opens the door and steps out.
He’s barely taken two steps before rounding the car to my side.
The moment his hand reaches for me, I lose it.
I kick, thrash, twisting so hard against the seatbelt that the strap digs into my ribs.
A muffled scream rips from my throat, hopefully the whole goddamn airport hears me.
I am not getting on that plane.
Alonzo growls something in Italian, fumbling with the buckle while trying to keep me pinned.
He’s strong, annoyingly so, but I am not making this easy for him.
My foot flies out, and I land a solid kick to his thigh.
It’s not the balls, but it’s close enough to make him stumble back with a sharp hiss.
Damn it.
I should’ve aimed better.
His face twists in irritation, and I know that just pissed him off.
But I don’t care.
My pulse pounds in my ears, my breath ragged as I glare up at him, body wound tight, ready to fight like hell.
Alonzo’s face twists in frustration, nostrils flaring as he spits out curses under his breath.
“Damn it, stupida puttana, ” he growls, barely hanging on to his last shred of patience .
His arm shoots up.
And shit, I know what’s coming next.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my whole body locking up as I brace for the hit.
But it never comes.
Instead, there’s a sharp clap, but it’s not skin against my skin.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Kota growls.
My eyes snap open just in time to see Alonzo frozen mid-swing, his wrist still caught in Kota’s grip.
His face goes rigid, and his jaw is clenched so tight, it looks like he might crack a molar.
I let out a shaky breath.
Thank God for Kota.
Alonzo’s a total hothead, but Kota seems more level-headed and calm, if that’s a thing for mafia killers.
He’s the kind of man who picks his battles.
And right now, he’s picked this one to keep me from getting my face rearranged.
“I got her,” Kota says.
But he doesn’t let go of Alonzo’s wrist.
Alonzo glares at me, and my stomach sinks to my butt.
If Kota wasn’t standing between us, I’d probably be picking myself up off the ground right now.
I swallow hard, but my voice comes out small and muffled.
“Thanks.” Kota doesn’t acknowledge it.
Instead, he bends slightly, clearly intending to pick me up himself .
But before he can, the devil himself steps forward.
“I got her.” Every muscle in my body tenses as he moves toward me like a predator closing in on its prey.
I don’t get a chance to react.
Before I even process what’s happening, his hands are on me.
I let out a startled yelp as I’m lifted out of the car, my stomach flipping from the sudden movement.
In a blink, I’m thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
What the actual fuck?
“Put me down, you asshole!” I shriek, twisting and bucking as much as I can, but his arm clamps tighter around my thighs like a damn steel bar.
Alessio doesn’t even flinch.
He doesn’t stumble or react; he doesn’t care that I’m thrashing like a lunatic over his shoulder.
If anything, I swear to God, the bastard chuckles .
And not in a funny way.
No, this one’s sadistic and angry.
His grip locks around my waist, and even through the sheet, I feel the heat radiating off him, he’s pissed.
His whole body is tense, like he’s holding back from exploding.
I can practically feel the fury vibrating off him.
He doesn’t have to say a word.
It’s the way he moves and holds me so tightly that it screams louder than if he’d just yell in my face.
My stomach knots, and panic sneaks in, despite my best efforts to stay calm.
This isn’t just about control anymore, it’s about payback .
I’m kicking, screaming, and fighting, anything to keep from getting on that damn plane.
But deep down, I know it’s a losing battle.
The jet engines roar, swallowing my struggles.
So, I try to focus, to remember what Clover drilled into me since I was a kid.
Stay calm and breathe.
But right now, that’s easier said than done.
Once we’re on the plane, Alessio tosses me off his shoulder, and I land hard in a leather seat.
I’m still wrapped up in this stupid sheet like some helpless person, but I start wiggling my arms, trying to get them free.
Alessio just stands there, hovering over me like he’s waiting for me to give him a reason to kill me.
The heat radiating off him is pure fury, and every instinct tells me not to poke the bear right now.
My pulse pounds so hard I swear he can hear it.
“Don’t fucking move. Got it?” His voice is low, but the anger in it is loud.
“Got it,” I mutter, sinking back into the seat, trying to act cool, even though my heart is still trying to beat its way out of my chest.
He leans down to take the seat next to me and feels way too close.
Suddenly, his scent fills my nose—spicy cinnamon and a hint of bergamot.
The cinnamon reminds me of that lotion I used to love as a kid, and before I know it, I’m inhaling deeper, savoring it.
“Did you just sniff me?” Alessio asks, sounding genuinely confused.
Crap.
Did I seriously just sniff him like some weird dog?
What the hell is wrong with me?
My face goes up in flames, and I snap my eyes to the seat in front of me, pretending that didn’t just happen.
But then, from the corner of my eye, I catch a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
It’s not the raging, furious version of him, at least.
Why did I smell him?
Seriously, what’s wrong with me?
Kill me now.
While I’m busy second-guessing every single life choice that led me here, a bombshell of a flight attendant struts toward us.
Her name tag reads Nicole, but it might as well say Desperate.
Her uniform is basically nonexistent, all legs and cleavage.
Her micro mini can barely be classified as a skirt—her bottom cheeks are practically hanging out.
“Can I get you your usual, Mr. Gualtiero?” she purrs, all breathy and fake.
“Yes,” he replies, his eyes flicking over to me.
I stare back, unsure if I’m included in this inflight service deal, but I’m both thirsty and starving, so I shoot my shot.
“I’ll take a coffee. Black. And if you’ve got anything to eat, I’ll have that too.”
Nicole doesn’t acknowledge me; she scoffs and keeps her attention locked on her personal mafia fantasy.
She lingers a second too long before sauntering away, shaking her ass like it’s going to hypnotize him.
I roll my eyes.
Subtle, Nicole.
Real subtle .
Kota and Alonzo, along with the other guy—Nathan, I think they called him—also order coffee while they are settling into their seats.
She comes back a few minutes later, balancing a tray.
She serves Alessio first, all smiles and batting eyelashes while she places a lowball glass with what smells like whiskey on the small table beside him, along with a bottle of water.
I’ve managed to wiggle my arms out of this human burrito wrap, so I reach for my cup, but before I can grab it, scalding hot coffee pours right onto my lap.
I scream, jolting from the burn.
Hot coffee soaks into the sheet, seeping through to my skin.
Not enough to cause real damage, but enough to make me want to throw hands.
Nicole’s lips twitch, barely hiding her smirk.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she coos to Alessio, not me .
Alonzo bursts into laughter like this is the funniest shit he’s ever seen.
Nicole throws him a flirty smile before bending over Alessio, practically shoving her tits in his face while she pretends to wipe nonexistent coffee off his sleeve.
Completely ignoring the fact that I’m the one covered in coffee.
I suck in a sharp breath, biting back the sting in my eyes.
I will not cry in front of these assholes.
I don’t care if she did it on purpose.
I don’t care if I’m freezing, soaked, and basically naked under this damn sheet.
Just as I’m about to lose the battle of tears, Alessio jumps up from his seat, grabbing Nicole by the throat, walking her backward toward the plane exit.
Her designer heels skid against the floor as she stumbles, her skirt riding up even higher.
Her face turns as red as her cheap press-on nails, hands clawing at his wrist, gasping for air.
“Disrespecting a guest of mine is disrespecting me,” Alessio growls, his voice ice-cold.
His grip tightens, and I swear I hear her whimper.
“Your services are no longer needed. Find another way home.”
And then, he shoves her off the plane.
My mouth drops open as she stumbles backward down the stairs and onto the tarmac, heels scraping against the concrete.
The look on her face is fucking priceless .
Alessio turns to Alonzo like nothing just happened.
“Get the coffee.”
“But Boss—”
“Now!”
Alonzo mutters something under his breath but obeys, dragging himself toward the kitchenette.
I shrink into my seat, still trying to process what the hell just happened.
I don’t know if that was him sticking up for me or if Nicole just got unlucky, but either way, I’m still soaked, still wrapped in a goddamn bedsheet, and now Alessio’s stalking toward me again.
He unbuckles my seatbelt.
Before I can react, he lifts me bridal style, like I don’t weigh a damn thing.
From this angle over his shoulder, I get the full view of the jet, and yep, it’s straight out of a billionaire’s wet dream.
Gold trim, tan leather everything, and enough room to throw a party midair.
Alessio walks us to the back of the plane, toward a closed door, and my heart drops.
Oh, hell no.
“Where the hell are you taking me?” I snap, trying to wriggle free.
Alessio doesn’t answer.
Just keeps walking like I’m his damn property.
Great.
What fresh hell is this?