Chapter 10 #2
“Oh, I plan to.” I lean forward, every nerve in my body humming with fury. “What exactly is your plan here, Lorenzo?”
His expression doesn’t change. “You’re with me now.”
I blink at him.
Then I laugh again, harder this time. “That’s not a plan.”
“It’s enough.”
“No, it isn’t.” My voice rises. “You stormed into a church in another man’s territory, threatened his family, kidnapped the woman he was about to marry, and got on a plane. That is not a plan. That is a tantrum with a flight path.”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then enlighten me.” I spread my hands. “Where are we going? What happens when we land? Were you planning to hide me somewhere? Drag me into your house with your wife? Tell her what—surprise, I decided to bring home the woman I actually wanted?”
His mouth hardens. “Watch your mouth.”
“Why?” I bite back. “Did I hit the part you conveniently forgot to think through?”
The cabin goes very still. Outside the window there’s only darkness now, the occasional blink of light from the wing. Inside, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out.
I hold his gaze and keep going, because if I stop, I might scream.
“You came for me with guns and men and all that righteous fury, but you didn’t actually think past getting me on this plane, did you?
” My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate that he hears it.
“You were so blinded by the idea of Dante touching what you think is yours that you forgot reality exists.”
“I forgot nothing.”
“No?” I lean in farther. “Then tell me the brilliant next step. I’d love to hear it.”
His silence is answer enough.
I laugh again, but there’s no humor in it now. Just pain sharpened into something ugly. “That’s what I thought.”
He shifts in his seat, and the movement alone fills the cabin with threat. “You think I came unprepared?”
“I think you came enraged.” I point toward the front of the plane. “There’s a difference.”
His voice drops. “Careful.”
“Or what?” I snap. “You’ll point another gun at an old woman? Fire into another church? Rip another ring off my hand because the sight of it hurts your feelings?”
That hits. I see it in the brutal flicker of his face, in the way his shoulders go rigid. So I twist the knife.
“You know what I think?” I say, quieter now. “I think you couldn’t stand the idea that I was moving on. Not because you love me. Because your pride couldn’t take it.”
His eyes narrow. “You don’t know a damn thing about what I feel.”
“Then what do you feel?” I shoot back. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks a lot like entitlement.”
For a moment, he just stares at me.
Then, very softly, “You were about to marry him.”
“Yes.” The word comes out like a slap. “I was.”
His jaw flexes.
“And do you know why?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “Because he actually offered me something besides obsession. Protection. Respect. A choice. He asked me what I wanted, Lorenzo. Imagine that.”
He rises so suddenly I flinch before I can stop myself.
His face turns to stone when he sees it.
Good, I think wildly. Let him see what he’s done.
But he only comes as far as the table between us, planting both hands on it and leaning down, his voice low and lethal. “Do not sit there and pretend that man was some saint.”
“I never said he was.” I lift my chin. “I said he thought farther ahead than one hour at a time.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek.
“There it is,” I whisper. “That look right there. Because you know I’m right.”
He stares at me like he wants to shake the words out of my mouth.
Instead, he says, “The plan was to stop that wedding.”
I let the silence stretch just long enough to be cruel.
“And after that?”
His mouth shuts.
My heart pounds harder. “That’s what I thought.”
I stand too, ignoring the sudden rush of dizziness, and point at him with a shaking hand.
“You didn’t come for me with a future, Lorenzo.
You came for me with rage. You saw something you couldn’t bear, and instead of thinking, instead of talking, instead of acting like a man with an actual strategy, you did what you always do. ”
His eyes darken. “And what’s that?”
“You took.”
The word lands between us, heavy and final.
I can see it hit him.
Can see the flash of something raw beneath all that cold control. But I’m too angry to care.
“You took because it was easier than asking why I stayed away. You took because it was easier than facing your own choices. You took because somewhere deep down, you still think wanting something badly enough gives you the right to have it.”
My throat burns. My eyes burn. Everything in me feels scraped raw.
“And the worst part?” I laugh once, broken and furious. “You’re so used to people cleaning up after your destruction that you probably assumed the rest would sort itself out.”
He straightens slowly.
When he speaks, his voice is frighteningly even. “Are you finished?”
“No.” I step closer before I can think better of it, anger making me reckless.
“What happens when Dante comes for me? Because he will. What happens when your wife asks where you’ve been?
What happens when the whole world finds out you flew into Italy like a madman and started a war because you couldn’t stand seeing me with someone else? ”
His gaze locks onto mine. “I’ll handle it.”
I bark out a humorless laugh. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting tonight.”
“Because you don’t know.” The realization hits me with fresh disgust. “You really don’t know. You have no idea what comes next.”
Something savage moves through his face then, quick and hot.
He doesn’t touch me, but he crowds into my space, forcing me to tip my head back to meet his stare.
“I know one thing,” he says, each word clipped. “You are not with him.”
My pulse hammers.
“Congratulations,” I whisper. “You won the immediate crisis. That still doesn’t make you smart.”
His nostrils flare.
And for the first time since the church, I think I’ve truly managed to wound him. Good. Because he deserves to bleed.
“You want honesty?” I say, my voice trembling now from exhaustion as much as rage. “Here it is. Men like Dante plan. Men like you react. He built a life around protecting me. You built a disaster and called it love.”
For one suspended second, I think he might actually explode.
Instead, he leans in until his mouth is near my ear, his voice a dark, controlled murmur that sends a chill down my spine.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Then he steps back just enough to remind me that he’s holding on by a thread too. I swallow hard, refusing to let him see the way my hands are shaking.
He looks at me for a long moment, then says, “Get some sleep.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
I almost laugh again. “Amazing. You start a blood feud, kidnap me from my wedding, and now your plan is a nap?”
His mouth curves, but there’s nothing kind in it. “No, Elizabeth. My plan is tomorrow.”
A cold knot forms low in my stomach.
“And what happens tomorrow?”
He picks up the crumpled wedding dress from the seat and drapes it over one arm, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Tomorrow,” he says quietly, “I start making sure no one can take you from me again.”
Then he turns and walks toward the front of the cabin, leaving me standing there in my oversized hoodie, breathing hard, furious enough to shake—and hating the fact that for all his violence, for all his arrogance, for all the things he still hasn’t thought through…
I believe him.