15. Escape
CHAPTER 15
ESCAPE
S erena
Rolling around in bed, even the tranquil sounds of the waves below do nothing to lull me back to sleep. Damned jet lag. I squeeze my eyes closed and try for the tenth time to force my spinning thoughts to quiet.
It’s no use though, I’m freaking wide awake. And hungry…
My stomach rumbles, reminding me I never had dinner since it ended up on the floor thanks to my current captor. That look on his face when he walked in on me naked made it all worth it though. Almost.
Maybe if I’d eaten I wouldn’t find myself up at—I glance at the clock on the nightstand—three o’clock in the morning. Well, I refuse to spend another minute tossing and turning in bed. Shoving the silky coverlet off, I slide to the edge of the mattress. The full moon peeking in through the open doors of the balcony sweeps into the room, bathing it in a beautiful silver glow. A breeze blows in, raising the tiny hairs along my arms.
Standing, I wrap my arms across my chest, reveling in the soft fabric of Antonio’s dress shirt. I draw in a breath, my lungs hungry for that enticing scent of his. It’s a warm amber mixed with cool shadows and dark secrets. Ugh, stop it . Shaking the stupid out of my head, I eye the door to my right then the one across the way. The main door, I already know is locked, and being guarded by Otto the pirate with his one good eye, and the other one leads to Antonio’s room.
Maybe that one is open…
I creep across the room, trying to shift my weight so most of it is on my good ankle. Even wrapped by the kind doctor, it still hurts like hell when I walk. A shiver skates up my spine as I pass the open balcony doors, and pause at Antonio’s, pressing my ear to the timber. Nothing but silence on the other side. Holding my breath, I twist the knob, and it opens.
The creak of the hinges sends my pulse skyrocketing, and I freeze in the doorway, gaze pinned to the unmade bed.
The empty bed. Where is my handsome captor?
Without wasting time to consider, I stagger across the room and find another door, presumably the one that leads to the hallway. My pulse quickens, indecision warring through my insides. Whipping it open, I find the corridor empty, with the exception of a snoring one-eyed guard. Otto is slumped against my door, his haggard breaths filling the passageway.
This is my chance.
I tiptoe down the hall, cursing the fact that my only pair of shoes are stilettos which there’s no way I can manage in my current state, so I’m stuck attempting an escape barefoot and limping. Beggars can’t be choosers.
I’ll be damned if I don’t take the opportunity anyway.
Finding my way to the grand spiraling double staircase, I clutch onto the banister for support and hobble down. Pausing at the landing, I scan the dimly lit first floor. All quiet. I skulk down the last few steps, my heart battering my ribcage as hope floods my chest. I’m already making plans to hitchhike to the center of town and beg a kind stranger for a ride back to Milano by the time I reach the front door. I can do this. I can escape. And find a way to warn Isabella before Antonio can make good on his vow.
My heart races as I peer through the villa's ornate French doors, my gaze scanning the sprawling estate bathed in moonlight. The lush gardens glisten with dew, shadows cast by the olive trees offering patches of darkness to move through undetected.
Closing my fingers around the antique handle, I glance over my shoulder one last time. That portrait of the Ferraras stares at me from across the foyer. That little boy with the dark eyes glances at me, almost pleading. Shit, I’ve lost my damned mind.
With a quick flick of my wrist, I yank the door open and creep out into the brisk night. I immediately regret not snagging a jacket of some sort on my way out. Too late now. Making my way around the edge of the grand estate while avoiding the guards in the utter darkness with only the moon as a guide is more difficult than I expected. Not to mention the whole limping thing.
In only a few hours at the villa, I’ve learned the guards' routines—two at the front, one patrolling the back, and another by the gate. Timing is everything.
With a deep, steadying breath, I slip across the terrazzo , my feet whispering against the cool stone tiles. The scent of jasmine hangs heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the adrenaline surging through my veins. I keep close to the flowering hedges surrounding the veranda, my eyes locked on the silhouette of the gate guard, illuminated by a flickering lantern. As he turns away, I dash for the gate across the driveway, my heart pounding in my ears.
The gravel crunches softly under my feet, a sound impossibly loud in the silence of the night. I’m almost there, just a few more steps. I spy one of the guards on the eastern corner, staring out into the rippling lake. I hold my breath as I tiptoe past him along the pathway. With my eyes on him, I round a sprawling olive tree and barrel into a wall. Muttering a curse, I look up as steel bands close around me and a pair of raging midnight eyes meet mine.
Merda . Definitely not a wall.
Antonio’s jaw ticks, a tendon jumping beneath the shadow of his dark scruff. His body presses into me, that amber scent invading my nostrils. “Serena, you swore to me…”
“What?” I giggle awkwardly. “Oh, you thought I was trying to escape?” I slap him playfully on the bare chest, ignoring the perfect dips and valleys of his torso. “I was just looking for the kitchen and the beautiful moon-lit lake caught my eye. So I decided to go for a little walk. You know, it’s a funny story really. I woke up starving and?—”
“Enough!” he growls, his firm hands pinning mine behind my back. He shoves me until I hit the tree trunk and let out a squeal.
“Watch it, bastardo !” I hiss.
“You promised me you wouldn’t run. I told you what would happen if you did, your cousin would be the one to pay.”
Fear strikes me, sharp and true. “Please, no, Antonio, not Isabella. I’m sorry, okay?”
He glares down at me, fury streaking across the endless abyss of his sinister gaze. He shoves his knee between my legs pinning me against the rough bark. “ Cazzo , why must you make me a monster? I’m trying—” He bites back the last word.
“I’m sorry, I am.” I tip my chin up, fixing my eyes to his and try for my most sincere expression. “I really was hungry and then I found you gone and Otto asleep, what would you have done in my position?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does!” I try to squirm free of his hold, but it only tightens so my breasts are pressed more tightly against his bare chest. His knee rubs against my apex, and fuck me, if tiny sparks don’t ignite at my core. “You and me grew up in the same world, damn it,” I rasp. “We’re survivors. You have to be to make it this far in life.”
His dark brows furrow, his eyes widening ever so faintly.
I’m right, and he knows it. “What would you have done?” I hiss.
A long silence lingers between us, the sound of my ragged breaths creating a steady symphony against the light crashing of waves beyond.
“I would have run,” he finally grits out. His hold around my wrists relaxes but he still has me pinned against the tree. He runs his hand through his hair and draws in a ragged breath. “I will give you one last chance, Serena, a chance my own father would never have given me.”
The line between his brows deepens, lips parting as if he hadn’t meant for the final words to fall out.
“Thank you,” I whisper and attempt to wriggle free.
But his body is an immoveable force.
“Can you let me go now?”
“I don’t think I can.” His jaw slams shut, the crack reverberating across the quiet stillness of the night. He spins around and trudges back toward the pathway that leads into the villa, a warm glow lighting the trail. Before he enters, he swivels his head back toward me, eyes smoldering. “Come inside, and I’ll give you something to eat.”
Dipping my head, I slowly limp after him. I can’t keep risking Bella’s life. How many more chances will I really get with this man? With my shoulders rounding, I stagger the rest of the way back into my new beautiful prison.
I sit across the table from my brooding captor, slowly chewing on the ridiculously delicious spaghetti al pomodoro Antonio just whipped up. It’s everything I can do not to moan as the savory flavors of vine-ripened tomatoes and roasted garlic roll around my tongue.
The craziest part is that he made it all from scratch in a manner of minutes. As if creating the best pasta I’ve ever tasted outside of my Nonna ’s kitchen, Dio rest her soul, is a daily occurrence. Maybe I seriously do need to reconsider my attempts at escape.
He watches me, that piercing gaze boring a hole into my forehead. But I don’t look up, I keep my head down and focus on shoving as much pasta into my mouth as I can fit without choking.
Damn, when was the last time I ate? It had been the longest forty-eight hours of my life.
I slurp up the final strand of spaghetti and the savory sauce splashes my chin. Before I can swallow, Antonio leans across the table with a napkin and dabs at the tomato splatter.
Wow, that’s embarrassing, but also, “Boundaries!”
He jerks his hand back, crumpling the paper napkin. “I didn’t want it to fall on my shirt,” he snaps.
Oh, right. I almost forget I’m still wearing it. His warm amber scent covers me like second skin. After only half a night wearing it, I’ve already become accustomed to his natural fragrance.
“Right, tomato sauce is a bitch to get out of clothes.”
His lip twitches, but he doesn’t fully give in to the smile.
“How did you learn to cook like that? I didn’t think mob bosses had time to master the culinary arts.”
A long beat of silence passes, and I’m certain he’s going to ignore my question when his mouth starts to move. “My mother was an excellent cook, and when I was young I would spend hours following her around the kitchen.” The words tumble out, slowly at first before picking up speed. “After she died, Papà was left with three boys and little skills in the kitchen.” He shrugs. “I helped as much as I could.”
“How old were you?” I whisper.
“Ten.”
A twinge of sympathy fills my chest as I regard the man staring intently at me from across the table. I picture that little boy from the painting again and the ache intensifies. “ Dio , that’s awful. You were so young.” My eyes widen. “Also, you learned to do all this at the age of ten?”
I’m twenty-four and still can’t cook a decent meal to save my life.
“Necessity is the mother of invention.” His head cocks to the side as he scrutinizes me. The momentary vulnerability vanishes, replaced by the icy mask I’ve come to recognize. “Do you cook?”
“Absolutely not, so if you’re looking for a hostage-slash-home cook you took the wrong Valentino princess.” I throw him a smirk before I realize what I’ve said. “Not that Bella is any better so don’t get any ideas.”
“Relax, I have no intention of keeping you longer than absolutely necessary. And I have my own cook.” Something dark flashes across his face, the ominous streak vanishing before I can fixate on it. “If you’ve eaten enough, I’ll escort you back to your room.” He stands, looming over me, his jaw hardening. “And I urge you to stay put this time, tesoro . I’m cranky when I don’t sleep, and as it is, tomorrow will be a difficult day.”
I pop out of my seat before my ankle reminds me that moves like that are not a good idea. Wincing, I grip the chair and glance up at him, flashing my sweetest smile. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”