29. A Coincidence
CHAPTER 29
A COINCIDENCE
S erena
Antonio’s scream echoes across the quiet lake as the needle pierces his skin and I drag the thread through the wound, closing the bloody gash. My stomach twists, revolting at the sight of the torn flesh. Dio , how does Bella do this every day? Why would she ever want to? I swallow hard to keep down the remainder of the lovely picnic Mariuccia made for us earlier.
“Fuck, Serena, are you trying to kill me?” he growls. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”
“It only would have made it worse. It’s better if you don’t see it coming. You would’ve been all tense, and if you tried to fight me, I didn’t exactly have anything to hold you down.”
He blows out a breath, his skin sallow and beads of perspiration coating his forehead. “Okay, I’m ready, just make it quick.” His fingers curl around the edge of the seat, and I’m pretty sure by the time this is all over there will be nail marks in the soft leather.
“I’ll try my best.” In and out. In and out. The boat rocks steadily as we bob in the middle of the lake under the cover of darkness. With each stitch, I pretend it’s a vibrant new fabric I’m sewing together instead of a man’s flesh. It’s the only thing that keeps me from vomiting or worse, passing out.
To his credit, Antonio barely flinches. After the first shout which took him by surprise, he’s been absolutely silent, gritting through what must be excruciating pain. His restraint is impressive. Personally, I’m going to need a hell of a lot of tequila after this.
What feels like a lifetime later, I hazard a peek at my handiwork, the red, inflamed skin forced together by the blood-splattered white thread. It’s not pretty and it’s going to leave a horrible scar but at least he’s not bleeding anymore. To reduce the threat of infection by the far-from-sterile thread, I plan on dousing the area in alcohol hourly until we can see a real doctor. I’m not sure this is sound reasoning but at the moment it’s all I can think to do.
“Done…” I whisper once I’ve covered the newly stitched wound with a bandage.
“Good,” he grits out, squeezing his eyes closed.
“You should rest.” I rise, stretching out my legs from the cramped position.
“No, I’ll be fine.” He tries to sit up, but I place a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him down. His lips twist into a frown, and damn it, if I even find that scowl attractive. What the hell is that? It’s this intense situation we’ve been thrown into. It has my adrenaline pumping and my hormones on overdrive. And that’s it.
Refocusing, I clear my throat. “That bullet hole is literally holding on by a thread. The less you move the better.”
“You need sleep too. You can’t drive the boat in circles all night.” He ticks his head at the steering wheel which whirls around lazily.
“Better me than you.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “I’m not the only stubborn one here.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“I do, but it’s risky.”
“I’m all ears, and I love risky.” I crouch down beside him once again so he’s not straining his neck and the wound to look up at me.
“The house across the lake from the villa belongs to an old friend of my mother’s. She passed away a few years ago, and her children have already left for the season. They went back to Milano just before we arrived which was what made the villa so perfect for my needs.”
“Okay, so you think we can stay there?”
He nods. “The main home has a security system, but there’s a small boathouse by the lake. We can ground the Riva for the night. It’s not much but it’s shelter, and we can get off the water for a few hours so we can both rest.”
“Sounds good to me.” After the past few hours, my sea legs are faltering. The idea of being back on solid ground sounds like heaven. And we’d need to get to a doctor in the morning anyway.
“But if anyone sees us, we’ll be sitting ducks.” He reaches into his pants and pulls out a sleek gun. I’d been so distracted by all the blood, I hadn’t even noticed it. Damn it, I’m slipping up left and right.
“Then we take turns sleeping.” I shrug. I’ll take half a night of good sleep over none at all. I hold out my hand, palm up, eyeing his weapon. “Don’t worry I’ll take good care of her.”
He smirks, a spark lighting up those midnight eyes. “I don’t think so, tesoro .”
“If I wanted you dead, don’t you think I would’ve killed you by now? You’re not exactly in any state to fight back.”
He looses a frustrated breath, eyes locked on mine. He inches the gun closer, but his wary fingers don’t release it into my waiting hand. “Why did you come back for me?”
My shoulders lift again, slowly now so I can buy some more time. “I already told you?—”
“You’re lying. We both know you could’ve gotten away much faster without me. At this rate, I’ll only slow you down.”
“You forget I have a sprained ankle, and those arsonist assholes are searching the town looking for me as we speak.”
“I have no doubt you could’ve given them the slip. You had no problem with my guards.”
“And yet you caught me.”
“Yes, I did.” His eyes narrow, the sleek obsidian piercing, as if he stares hard enough, he’ll be able to tear the truth right out of my soul. “So why did you come for me?”
“I don’t know,” I grit out. “Clearly, being held captive has fucked with my mind. Isn’t that a thing, Stockholm’s Syndrome or whatever? Maybe I find you both threatening and weirdly nurturing… especially after what happened with Otto. I guess I thought I owed you or something.”
His dark brows furrow, the intense emotion flashing across his face like a brewing storm. His hand reaches out, his rough thumb brushing my cheek. And I let him. I don’t dare move, I barely breathe. “What happened with Otto was my fault. You don’t owe me shit, tesoro . I wish I could go back and kill him slower so that I could relish in his suffering, one hour of torture for every minute of pain that he caused you.”
He strokes my cheek tenderly and the gentle touch is so at odds with the brutal mob boss who kidnapped me that my brain starts to short circuit, and I lean in. The burn of his lips from earlier today still ghosts over my own, a permanent reminder, a branding. How am I turned on by the idea of him torturing someone?
In all fairness, it’s not just anyone, it’s the bastardo who tried to rape me. And I would enjoy watching Antonio beat the shit out of him again.
He draws in a long breath, then exhales slowly and releases me. “We should go. Are you good to drive?”
“Sure. I’m not the one with the bullet wound.”
“How’s your ankle after all the walking?”
“It’s fine.” I jump up and grab the steering wheel, anxious to get the hell out of here. “Plot the course, captain, or whatever the hell you’re supposed to say.”
Antonio chuckles again, but this time the warm sound is restrained, as if fully giving into it would be painful. “Just skirt the coast, but don’t get too close.” He points toward an illuminated section of the lake, which I assume must be the center of Como. “Whoever came for us could still be in the vicinity. If I’d been the one to call the hit, I would make sure my guys confirmed all the bodies.”
A chill skirts up my spine, a mixture of unease, exhaustion and the breeze churning in the middle of the open water. “What makes you so sure they came for us ?”
“Because it’s too much of a coincidence. I haven’t been back at that villa for over ten years. Why now? Why not attack in Roma where I’ve been for months? I’m not a man who hides, Serena. I’ve been out in the open living my life since I became the head of the Ferrara syndicate. I attend parties at my nightclubs, a variety of social events, and I even do my own grocery shopping. Coming at me here was no coincidence.”
I turn the steering wheel toward the coast, maintaining a low speed to keep the engine from roaring. I steal a quick peek at Antonio over my shoulder. A tendon flutters in his jaw, his dark brows furrowed. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. Papà was not behind this. He would never.”
“So you say…”
“Yes, I say, and it’s true. Same goes for any of the Kings. My father has an iron grip over his men, and none would betray him. They would never be stupid enough.”
“I hope you’re right, tesoro .”