24. A Little Tipsy
CHAPTER 24
A LITTLE TIPSY
S erena
The light, airy bubbles go straight to my head, which is exactly what I intended when I started to guzzle the sparkling wine. I wanted the numbness, the pleasant tingly sensations to dull the ache that carved into my chest from the night before.
Fuck, I don’t know how women do it. How they survive an attack like that… Otto didn’t even succeed, and I still feel violated in the most horrific way.
“Serena…” Antonio’s growl of frustration tears me from my thoughts to the angry mob boss stalking toward me.
He grabs the bottle of spumante and stares through the dark green glass clearly trying to determine how much I’ve drank in the last fifteen minutes. The answer is: a lot.
When Mariuccia mentioned it, the idea of a peaceful boat ride along the scenic lake sounded perfect, but now, alone with Antonio in the middle of the rippling waves and unarmed, I’m starting to reconsider this little voyage.
Steeling my spine, I remind myself Tony is already brokering the deal for my release. Antonio has no reason to hurt me.
“You’ve had enough.” He corks the bottle and returns it to the wicker basket, then offers me a chunk of bread. “Eat this.”
“No, it’ll just sober me up,” I squeal.
“Exactly!”
“How do you expect me to enjoy this little cruise if I’m not at least a little tipsy?”
“You were the one that wanted to go out on the boat!” He drags his hand through the waves of dark hair, tugging on the ends.
“I only said that to piss you off because I knew you didn’t want to go.” I offer a cheeky smile which has less to do with the spumante and more to do with the fact that I love seeing this man flustered.
“So you’d rather torture both of us?”
“Yup.” I pop the P just for fun.
He shakes his head, releasing a frustrated breath. “I suppose you think I deserve that.”
“Sure as shit.”
The hint of a smile kicks up the corner of his mouth as he folds down onto the bench across from me.
“This whole thing has been a fucking disaster.” He buries his face in his hands and heaves out a breath. “I just want it all over with.”
“Same here, bastardo .”
“It will be soon. Tony said your father will concede to all my demands.”
“Of course he will because he fucking loves me.” I cross my arms over my chest triumphantly. When I get home, I’m going to have words with Pa about how long this whole fiasco took.
“How lucky you are…” His words fall away, and a twinge of unwanted sympathy niggles at my chest. After hearing the stories from Bella, I know just what a sick asshole their father was. I hope he’s rotting in hell for what he did.
“For what it’s worth, you’ve been a pretty decent kidnapper.” I don’t know why I still insist on being nice to him.
A deep chuckle vibrates his chest, the warm, rich sound so unexpected I find myself staring. “Just what every man wants to hear.”
I shrug, the deep melody of his laughter still echoing on the breeze. “If you don’t want to be called out for doing shitty things, don’t do shitty things.”
“Fair enough.”
“Did you really not know what your father did to Raf’s first girlfriend?” The question pops out before I can stop it. I’m not sure why it matters but I need to know what kind of man has me hostage. Even if this arrangement should be quickly coming to an end.
He slowly shakes his head, darkness carving into the hard line of his jaw. “Neither Giuseppe nor I knew what really transpired that day. Papà told us Raffaele had forsaken his family for Laura, and he made us believe our youngest brother was a traitor.” He blows out a breath, his shoulders sagging beneath some invisible weight. “Raffa never reached out, never explained anything. I only discovered the truth after our father was dead. I still can’t believe it…”
“But you do believe it now?”
His chin dips. “I can think of no other reason why Giuseppe would have interfered the day Papà took your cousin. I’m convinced he stood up to our father and gave his life for Raffa and Isabella to make up for his past sins.”
“And you?” There’s something about the openness in his expression that has me pushing.
“Once this is over, and my father’s legacy is reclaimed, I’m done. I don’t want my brother or the Valentinos as my enemies. I simply want to be free.”
“Good luck with that. Running a criminal empire doesn’t allow for much of this .” I motion at the tranquil scenery surrounding us.
“I never thought I needed this .” He crosses his leg over his knee, dark gaze intent on the surrounding mountains. “I haven’t in the last ten years.”
“Maybe you have gone soft in your old age.” I toss him a wink before unzipping his sweatshirt and leaning back against the headrest. The oversized thing falls off my shoulders, but the chill has finally passed, and I can enjoy the warmth of the sun’s brilliant rays on my shoulders.
“I’m not old, and I’m certainly not soft,” he growls. “Or at least I never have been.” He mutters the last part under his breath.
“Hey, you’re the one that said it…”
He slides to the edge of the seat across from me, the movement so quick I startle and straighten abruptly. “I said you made me soft.”
“Ah, so you’re blaming this on me?”
“Yes,” he grits out, tangling his fingers into knots. “I feel responsible for?—”
“And you should,” I hiss, the flirty banter from a second ago forgotten. “If you hadn’t captured me in the first place, then left me with that sick fuck—” I chomp down on my lower lip to keep it from trembling as images from the night before flash in rapid fire. Heat singes the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let another tear fall in front of fucking Antonio Ferrara. I blink quickly trying to keep the tears at bay, but one traitor escapes, dribbling down my cheek. Before I can lift my hand to erase the damning evidence, Antonio is on his knees in front of me. His touch is surprisingly gentle as his thumb sweeps across my skin.
My gaze drops to his, and a storm of emotions glistens across the dark surface. More tears threaten to spill at the unexpected gesture, at the rage in his eyes. “Dammit, I’m so angry,” I howl instead.
“Let it out, tesoro . No one can hear you out here.”
No one but you. The one person I should fear most. His hand closes around my shoulder, quietly reassuring, as his eyes remain pinned to mine. I throw my head back, my hands curling into fists, and I scream and shout, cursing Otto’s name from here to kingdom come. Then I add in a few of my finest Italian curse words with Antonio’s name thrown into the mix.
By the time my ranting is over, my chest is heaving, shoulders trembling but at least I’m not crying. And I actually feel better. Antonio’s still kneeling, staring at me wide-eyed, a hint of amusement twitching at his lips. “I was right.” He smirks. “You’ve got a mouth like a puttana .”
“You have no idea.” The flirty retort bursts out before I can stop it. The last thing I need is him thinking about my lips on anything.
His gaze heats, and he shifts uncomfortably between my legs where he kneels. His arm brushes the inside of my thigh and despite the layer of clothes between us, a whisper of heat streaks across my core.
Oh, thank gawd.
After what happened, I was convinced I’d feel nothing but numbness down there for the rest of my life. The fact that I felt something, anything, sparks hope in my chest. Sure, I should not be turned on by my captor, but semantics…
Clearing his throat, he starts to rise, placing his hands on my thighs to steady himself. A hiss escapes my clenched teeth, and he jerks his hands away so fast he staggers back a step and lands on the opposite bench seat. “ Scusi ,” he mutters, holding his hands up.
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “You just surprised me.” I wrap my arms around my middle and curl into his sweatshirt, the warm amber scent bringing a surge of relief that makes absolutely no sense.
Pushing himself up to stand, he turns toward the stern of the boat. “We should probably start heading back.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” I busy my hands, rifling through the picnic basket. I’m not hungry in the least but I need to do something.
We spend the rest of the ride back to the villa in silence, but it’s not awkward which is odd. Instead, I alternate between watching the opulent villas nestled in the hillside and my driver. He keeps his gaze intent on the horizon, never deviating in my direction. Watching the muscles across his back bunch and coil beneath his black shirt as he maneuvers the boat is weirdly relaxing too.
“ Cazzo ,” he hisses, a sharp gasp pulling my attention from his back to over his shoulder toward the shore.
My heart leaps up my throat as I spot the villa and the raging flames engulfing the entire structure.