43. Under Different Stars
CHAPTER 43
UNDER DIFFERENT STARS
S erena
Staring at my weary reflection in the mirror, I huff out a breath and pull out my phone. It’s over, Serena, it’s time to move on . Sure, the kidnapping was fun and all, and the sex was ah-mazing, but clearly nothing more will ever come of this thing with Antonio. And I’m crazy to even want more.
Despite knowing all of this, there’s still something I have to do.
I type out a message to Papà before I lose my nerve. For all I know, he could be on his way here right now with Alessandro. Bella swore our cousin to secrecy, but I know Papà has his ways.
Me: I need you to promise me something.
Pa: Anything, cuore mio .
I’m surprised the response comes so quickly and now that pit of dread in my stomach expands to twice its size. Is he here in Milano already? My fingers fly across the keyboard.
Me: Swear to me you won’t kill Antonio when this is over.
Those little blue bubbles dance across the screen for an endless moment, my pulse escalating with every second that passes.
Pa: I can’t promise that .
I stare at the words, my heart lodged in my throat. I won’t let Antonio die because of me. Did he royally fuck up by kidnapping me? Yes. But the thought of the starlight in those piercing irises going forever dark is suffocating.
Me: You can, you just don’t want to .
Pa: He stole you from me, Serena ! My only child! How can I allow him to live after that?
I can practically see him fuming across the line, hear him shouting curses at the phone.
Pa: I will not make a promise I cannot keep. We can discuss this when I see you in person.
Me: No, I need the promise first .
The phone rings, his number flashing across the screen. I send it to voicemail because I’m in no mood to listen to him scream at me.
Pa: Answer the phone.
Me: No. Not until you swear on Mom’s life that you won’t kill him.
Pa: You cannot be serious about this.
I am deadly serious which is why I mention Mom .
Me: Antonio saved my life. I owe him.
Another long minute passes, and I’m sure he’s thrown his phone out the window in a fit of rage.
Pa: Fine...
Me: Thank you. I’ll see you at home tonight.
More bubbles, then nothing. The tightness in my chest wanes slightly, and I draw in another breath. At least I know Antonio will be safe once I step on that plane. And for now, that’s good enough.
With one last glance in the mirror, I run my hand through my hair and turn for the door. It’s time to head to the airport.
When I step into the guest bedroom, Antonio is already dressed, in what I imagine are Valerio’s clothes. They’re a little tight on him, clinging to the broad expanse of his chest and highlighting his muscled abs. Dio , he’s beautiful in a tortured, savage way.
He watches me as I approach, shadows etching his features. His smoky eyes lock onto mine, then hold in an endless, tension-fraught gaze. A thousand unspoken words linger between us, yet neither of us dares to break the silence.
Antonio finally clears his throat, blinking so I’m free of that hypnotic stare. “We should go.” He reaches for a jacket slung across the bed.
My head dips, and I grab my purse from the chair. I feel the weight of Antonio’s gun still inside, so I slip my hand in to return it to him. “I guess I should give this back now.”
He shakes his head, lips pressed in a hard line. “No, keep it. I owe you for the one Otto lost in Manhattan.”
I eye the big, clunky gun in my palm and scowl. “Dolce was my favorite, you know. She was the perfect size for my hand.”
“I owe you a Glock then, but for now, she’s yours.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” I turn the Beretta around in my palm, comforted by the familiar feel of a weapon in my hand. “I’ll call him Toni.”
A chuckle parts his lips, but the mirth doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Whatever it takes for you to remember me.”
I don’t dare speak the traitorous words. That I’ll never forget him. And it’s not just because he gave me the best orgasms of my life. No, the real reason is much scarier. So I keep the truth tucked away behind my teeth and force a smile.
The sound of approaching footfalls along the marble echoes through the corridor a moment before Valerio pokes his head in. “ Pronti ?”
Antonio nods. “Yes, we’re ready. Thank you again for everything.”
“Don’t mention it. Or rather, you can wait for the return favor to be called in.” That wicked grin has the hair on the back of my neck rising. “My driver is already waiting downstairs in the garage.”
“Then let’s not keep him,” I blurt.
With a quick goodbye to Antonio’s intimidating friend, we find his driver in the garage, in the spot we’d parked the Alfa in last night. It’s gone. What a waste of a perfectly good car. It’s probably up in flames or swimming at the bottom of a lake by now.
The driver gets out of the car, tips his hat at us and opens the back doors of the oversized Mercedes sedan. “We will be arriving in Linate in a quarter of an hour.”
“ Grazie .” Antonio dips his head at the man, then ushers me into the backseat.
I glide across the smooth black leather and lean up against the opposite door. A rush of cold air blows from the air vent, sending a chill up my spine. I must shudder because the next thing I know, Antonio is peeling off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I murmur as the engine turns over, and we speed out of the underground garage.
The early morning light is blinding, even beneath the tinted windows, so I scoot closer to the center of the seat to avoid the harsh sunlight blasting in through the glass. My leg brushes against Antonio’s and our eyes meet. Tension thickens the air, all those unspoken words dangling on the tip of my tongue. A flurry of memories rushes back, igniting a storm of emotions that threatens to shatter the calm facade I’m barely holding onto. In the silent standoff, it's the words we don't say that speak the loudest, echoing the last painful week and a completely uncertain future.
When the silence grows oppressive, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Were you able to identify the arsonists from the security camera footage?” I’d completely forgotten to ask last night.
Antonio rakes his hands across his face and huffs out a breath. “Yes, but it was nothing useful, unfortunately. As expected, they’re mercenaries. Anyone could have hired them for the job.”
“So, we’re back to square one.”
He grunts in response.
“Well, it wasn’t the Kings. Papà swore to me when we spoke the other day from the boathouse, and I trust him.”
“Of course you do.”
“For your sake, you better hope my trust is well-placed.” The damned words spill out before I can stop them.
He cocks his head at me, dark eyes scrutinizing. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” I mutter. I have a feeling Antonio wouldn’t be pleased if I admitted to forcing my father into sparing his life. It wouldn’t sit well with his pride.
The ride to the airport passes much too quickly and before long, the roar of an airplane landing echoes over our heads. I glance at Antonio, and my chest tightens at the thought of never seeing him again. Unexpected emotion constricts my throat, and I can barely swallow it down.
Merda , this was not the plan.
I was never supposed to develop actual feelings for this man.
And yet, here we are.
Hot tears prick my eyes as the driver steers the Mercedes to the security entrance. Averting my gaze out the window, I blink quickly to keep the traitorous tears from spilling over. The gate opens and we roll through the entrance, heading for the private hangars at the end of the runway.
My phone buzzes, jerking me from the startling onslaught of emotions. Thank Dio . I glance at the screen and find a message from Ale. He’s landed and waiting for me on his father’s jet.
“It’s hanger number four,” I call out to the driver.
“Very well, signorina .”
He swings the Mercedes to the right and pulls into a parking spot just behind the row of enormous white structures, then cuts the engine. Oh shit, this is it. My stomach twists, knotting into a pretzel, and a wave of nausea crashes over me. Dio , what is wrong with me?
“I’ll accompany Serena to the jet,” Antonio says to the driver, distracting me from my downward spiral. “Wait for me here.”
“ Si, signore .”
Antonio slides out of the car then comes around to my door, opening it with a flourish, then offers a hand. The silly move brings a smile to my face, and grim realization sets in. I’m totally fucked. I have fallen for my kidnapper. What type of a stupid cliché am I?
I glide across the car seat and fit my palm in his. The touch is electric, sparking a wave of longing and desire that surges straight to my heart. He closes the door behind me and tugs me forward, but I grind my heels into the tarmac.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes widen, that faint line between his brows furrowing.
“I—I…” Ugh, just spit it out. But what exactly can I say without sounding like a complete nutcase?
His fingers tangle with mine, squeezing as he brings our interlaced hands between us. Then he leans me back against the car, and his mouth captures mine. The fire behind it has my toes curling inside my sneakers. His free hand snakes around the back of my neck, angling my head to deepen the kiss. Each stroke of his tongue is punishing and ravenous, filled with heat and promise. It’s as if he knows this will be the very last time, and he’s committing every second to memory.
The understanding sends ice through my veins, and I jerk back, pulling free of those fiery lips.
“I’m sorry, tesoro ,” he whispers, agony etched into his beautiful features. “There’s so much more I wish I could say, so much I want to tell you. There simply aren’t enough words in the English or Italian language to encompass it all. If only we had met in another life, under different stars, I know I could have made you happy. Just know that every moment spent with you was a treasure I will carry with me to the end.”
My throat thickens, roaring emotion making it impossible to breathe. He thinks he’s going to die. He believes this really is the end for not only us, but him.
“ Papà swore to me he wouldn’t kill you, Toni,” I blurt. “I made him swear it.”
A rueful smile spreads his lips, and he nods slowly, almost begrudgingly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t believe Dante, tesoro .” He squeezes my hand again before tugging me off the car and leading me toward the awaiting jet, our fingers still intwined. “And I don’t blame him. If I was in his position, I would do the exact same thing.”
The jet door glides open only a few yards away, jerking my attention to a scowling Alessandro. “Did you just fucking kiss Antonio Ferrara?” he shouts from the top of the steps.
Well, this is going to be a long trip back to Manhattan.
Ale stomps down the steps as a luggage transporter drives by, toting a dozen suitcases. His foot hits the tarmac, and an explosion rockets across the airstrip. Flames burst from the luggage cart, engulfing the front half of the jet. A scream lodges in my throat as Antonio throws his body on top of mine, and I hit the ground with a bone crunching smack.