Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
I wake to the rumble of an engine and the sensation of movement. My head throbs—a dull, persistent ache that makes me wince before I even open my eyes. Something's wrong. The seat beneath me feels familiar, but I'm not the one driving.
The events before I blacked out come rushing back in fragments. The charity event. The drive home. Men in the lobby. Violence. Pain.
I force my eyes open, blinking against the dim light of passing streetlamps. We're on a highway. My car. But not my hands on the steering wheel.
A man I vaguely recognize is driving—dark hair, strong profile, the same man who appeared out of nowhere when I was attacked. The same man who was watching me at the Feretti celebration.
Fear and rage surge through me at once. I jerk upright, ignoring the spinning in my head.
"Who the hell are you?" My voice comes out raspy but loud in the confined space. "Why are you driving my car? Stop this car right now!"
He glances at me, his expression maddeningly calm. "You're awake."
"Obviously! Pull over immediately!" I reach for the door handle, not entirely sure what I'll do if he actually stops, but desperate to escape.
"I wouldn't do that. We're doing seventy on the Belt Parkway."
I look out the window, recognizing the stretch of highway along the water. We're heading away from Manhattan. Away from home. Away from safety.
"You're kidnapping me." The reality of my situation hits me like a physical blow. "Where are you taking me? What do you want?"
My violin case sits on the back seat—at least he brought that. Small comfort when I'm being abducted.
"The men who attacked you work for Ivan Volkov," he says, as if that explains everything.
"I know who they work for!" I snap, though I'm surprised he knows. "That doesn't answer my question. Who are you?"
He takes a curve too fast and I grab the door handle to steady myself.
"My name is Noah Rivera."
"Well, Noah Rivera, you can't just take someone against their will. This is kidnapping. There are laws?—"
He laughs, the sound sharp and without humor. "Laws? You think Ivan Volkov cares about laws? The men who attacked you weren't coming to give you a parking ticket."
"So what, you're rescuing me?" I glare at him. "Then take me to the police, not... wherever we're going."
"The police can't protect you from Ivan. I can."
I fall silent, my mind racing with too many thoughts to form coherent words. The headache pulses behind my eyes as I try to make sense of everything. This man—Noah Rivera—seems to know about Ivan, about the danger I'm in. But that doesn't explain why he's taken me.
I study his profile as he drives. Strong jaw, intense eyes focused on the road, hands gripping the wheel with casual confidence. Even in this terrifying situation, I can't help noticing how attractive he is—all sharp angles and controlled power. The same intensity I noticed when he watched me perform.
My gaze traces the lines of a tattoo peeking from beneath his sleeve, dark swirling ink against olive skin. His knuckles are bruised—from fighting off those men who attacked me.
He turns suddenly, catching me staring. Our eyes lock for a brief moment before he returns his attention to the road.
Heat rises to my cheeks—partly embarrassment at being caught, partly anger at myself. What is wrong with me? I'm being kidnapped and I'm noticing his good looks?
"Where are you taking me?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. "What do you want from me?"
"Somewhere safe," he answers, maddeningly vague. "That's all you need to know right now."
"That's all I need to know?" I repeat, indignation flaring. "You break into my building, knock me unconscious?—"
"I didn't knock you out. That was Ivan's men."
"—steal my car with me in it, drive me to God knows where, and 'that's all I need to know'?" My voice rises with each word until I'm practically shouting. "I have a life! I have a sister who will worry! I have concerts scheduled! You can't just—just—take me!"
Noah remains frustratingly calm in the face of my outburst. "You don't need to care about any of that right now."
"Don't need to care?" I slam my palm against the seat back. "It's MY LIFE! You don't get to decide what I care about!"
He doesn't flinch at my shouting, doesn't even seem bothered. His calm only infuriates me more.
"Tell me where we're going right now or I swear I'll?—"
"You'll what?" He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. "Jump out of a moving car? Scream for help on an empty highway? Attack me while I'm driving and risk killing us both?"
His logic makes me want to scream even more but I press my lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
The car slows suddenly and I look up to see headlights up ahead—another vehicle parked on what appears to be a deserted service road. A man leans against it, arms crossed, waiting.
Noah pulls alongside and cuts the engine. In the sudden silence my heartbeat sounds deafening in my ears.
"What's happening?" I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
"We're switching cars." Noah unbuckles his seatbelt.
"Switching cars," I repeat flatly. The absurdity of this situation suddenly strikes me and a bubble of hysterical laughter escapes my lips.
Noah turns to me, his expression hardening. "What's funny?"
I can't stop the laughter now. It pours out of me, high and unnatural, bordering on hysteria. "You're insane. You're actually insane if you think I'm getting out of my car and into that one."
"Evelyn—"
"No." I shake my head, laughter fading as quickly as it came. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going anywhere with you."
Noah moves so fast I barely register it. Suddenly he's between the front seats and in my space, hands gripping the headrests. His face hovers inches from mine, so close I can feel his breath on my skin.
"Listen to me," he says, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This isn't a fucking shopping therapy session or a goddamn social call. You think this is a game? Those men back there weren't trying to rob you. They were going to take you to Ivan, and you'd be fucking lucky if you ended up dead after what he'd do to you."
I press back against the seat, heart hammering against my ribs. His proximity is overwhelming—threatening yet somehow electric. I can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, smell the faint scent of cologne mixed with something metallic that might be blood.
"You're clever enough to understand the situation you're in," he continues, lips so close to mine that I feel the words more than hear them. "You have two choices. Either you walk to that car on your own, or I drag you there myself. But one way or another, you're getting in that fucking car."
His eyes hold mine, unflinching, unapologetic. In them I see something beyond the threat—a cold certainty that chills me more than his words.
I swallow hard, finding my voice. "And if I scream? If I fight?"
"There's no one to hear you. And I promise you don't want to fight me." His voice softens slightly, though the threat remains. "I'm trying to keep you alive, Evelyn. Don't make it harder than it needs to be."
I make a subtle nod to Matteo, who's leaning against his car watching us with that fucking amused look he always gets when shit gets complicated. He catches my signal immediately and moves to the side of Evelyn's car, blocking her potential escape route.
"Don't even think about it," I say, opening my door.
The moment my feet hit the pavement, I see movement in my peripheral vision. Evelyn lunges across the center console, scrambling desperately for the driver's seat. Her hands grab for the steering wheel, her body twisting with surprising agility.
Smart girl. Too bad I'm faster.
I reach the rear door in three strides, yanking it open before she can lock it. Her eyes widen—those stormy blue eyes that looked so calm when she played her violin are now wild with fear and rage.
"Let me go!" she shouts as I grab her around the waist.
I lift her out of the car like she weighs nothing. Her body is small against mine, fragile but fighting. She's all sharp elbows and flailing limbs, her fists connecting with my chest and shoulders. The hits don't hurt—it’s like a kitten trying to take down a wolf.
"Put me down!" Her voice rises, cracking with panic. "You can't do this!"
Her hair whips across my face as she thrashes, the scent of something expensive and floral filling my senses. I tighten my grip, careful not to bruise but firm enough that she can't break free.
"Stop fighting," I growl into her ear. "You're just making this harder."
"Fuck you!" She kicks backward, narrowly missing my groin. "I'll scream. I'll?—"
"Go ahead. No one's around to hear you."
She twists in my arms, her eyes meeting mine with pure hatred. "You said you were protecting me."
I can't help the cold smile that forms on my face. "I am protecting you. But now I'm also kidnapping you."
"You bastard," she hisses, renewing her struggle.
Matteo chuckles from where he stands. "Feisty one, isn't she?"
I ignore him, focused on containing the wildcat in my arms without hurting her. She's breathing hard, her chest rising and falling against mine. For a woman who looks so controlled on stage, she fights with unexpected ferocity.
"I was giving you a choice before," I tell her, my voice low and even. "That option's gone now."
I carry Evelyn to Matteo's car, her body still twisting against mine. Every movement she makes only tightens my grip. I've dealt with men twice her size who gave up struggling against me. She doesn't.
"Let me go!" She lands a surprisingly sharp elbow to my ribs.
I grunt but don't loosen my hold. "The more you fight, the longer this takes."
Matteo holds the back door open, that smirk still plastered on his face. I slide into the backseat with Evelyn still in my arms, pulling her across my lap. She immediately tries to lunge for the door but I lock my arm around her waist, anchoring her against me.
"You won't win this," I say into her ear. Her hair smells like expensive shampoo, the tender skin of her neck like fear.
Matteo slams the door and circles to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. The engine purrs to life as he adjusts the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting mine.
"Where to?" he asks, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
Before I can answer Evelyn's voice cuts through the tension. "To the police station." Her tone is sharp enough to draw blood.
Matteo bursts out laughing, his shoulders shaking as he turns to look at us. "That's a good one, princess. I like her, Noah."
I don't smile. Instead I tighten my grip as Evelyn tries to wrench herself free again. Her breathing is ragged, her body trembling with rage or fear—probably both.
"My place," I say to Matteo, my eyes never leaving Evelyn's face. I want her to understand there's no escape. Not from me.
Matteo nods and pulls away from the service road, tires crunching on gravel before hitting smooth pavement. The Parkway lights blur outside the window as we pick up speed.
Evelyn goes still in my arms but I know better than to mistake it for surrender. She's calculating, watching, waiting for an opening. I've seen that look before—in cornered animals, in men about to make their final, desperate move.
"You won't get away with this," she says, her voice suddenly calm. Too calm.
I lean closer, my lips almost brushing her ear. "I already have."
I feel Evelyn's body go rigid against mine as we drive through the darkness. The street lights flash across her face, illuminating those fierce eyes that refuse to give up.
"Why are you doing this?" she finally asks, her voice steadier than I expected. "You're clearly..." she pauses, looking me over with reluctant assessment, "...good looking enough to seduce a girl instead of kidnapping one."
I can't help the laugh that escapes me—short, harsh and completely lacking humor. Her words catch me offguard, which doesn't happen often.
"You must have hit your head harder than I thought when those guys knocked you out," I say, studying her face for signs of concussion. "That fall making you compliment me now?"
She flushes, anger replacing whatever momentary weakness made her acknowledge my appearance. "I'm simply pointing out that this seems unnecessary for someone like you."
"Someone like me?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "You don't know shit about me."
"I know enough."
I tighten my grip on her waist, feeling her tense in response. "Let me remind you of something, Evelyn. Those three bastards weren't taking you on a fucking date. You were about to be grabbed, drugged and delivered to Ivan like a package."
Her breathing hitches at Ivan's name.
"You think they cared how you felt about it? You think they were gonna ask nicely?" I continue, my voice dropping lower. "They would have taken you whether you screamed or fought or begged. And whatever Ivan had planned for you after..." I let the words hang in the air.
Matteo glances at us in the rearview mirror but says nothing. He knows when to keep his mouth shut.
"So you're what—my savior?" Evelyn's voice drips with sarcasm but I can hear the fear underneath.
"I'm the lesser of two evils." I lean closer, my mouth right beside her ear, making her shiver. "And right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and Ivan Volkov."
She turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting mine with defiance that should have been crushed by now. Most people would be broken, pleading, by this point. Not her.
"And what do you want with me?" she says.
The question hangs between us as Matteo takes a sharp turn, throwing her body against mine. I don't answer immediately, just hold her steady as the car continues through the night.