12. Liana
TWELVE
LIANA
T he door opened, and a chill coasted through me as Giovanni’s shadow moved across the floor, approaching me like the devil in disguise.
He had changed out of his suit and was wearing sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt. Droplets of water glued his dark hair to his temples, telling me he’d showered while I was tied up here, even had time to bandage his wound. His forearms flexed with each step he took closer to me, the ink peeking out from beneath his sleeve.
“I’m back.” He greeted me with a smile like we were besties, carrying a tray full of food.
My stomach rumbled, betraying my hunger. The man flashed me a grin.
“Right on time by the sounds of it,” he drawled as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, placing the tray down in front of him. His eyes flashed with resentment when I instinctively shifted away.
“I’m not hungry,” I snapped back, my stomach protesting the lie. Giovanni’s expression contained a warning before he picked up a spoon and scooped up some white liquid that looked suspiciously like pureed rice.
“Yes, you are.” He brought the spoon to my tightly pressed lips. “Now open your mouth, or I’ll have to tube-feed you.”
That motherfucking?—
I opened my mouth and went for it, baring my teeth and readying to bite his fingers, but he was too fast, yanking his hand away.
“Come back here,” I hissed. “I opened my mouth like you commanded.”
His eyes hardened, holding mine as he gave me his terrifying attention.
“To eat,” he gritted. “Not to bite me.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” I held his gaze and let him see all my hate. “I’ll eat on my own.”
“Wildflower,” he warned, towering over me like a dark cloud, and instantly my chest tightened. “You don’t want me as your enemy.”
I scoffed. “Too late, because you’re my enemy.”
He was on me so fast a scream rose up my throat, his fingers prying my mouth open. But all I could feel was distaste at being touched. Having a man’s body so close—too close.
“Open your mouth, Liana, or I swear to God, I’m going to shove a feeding tube down your throat, and I promise you, the experience won’t be pleasant.”
I went still, recalling the last time I was subjected to that treatment, and the invasion of unwanted memories that I had worked so hard to compartmentalize threatened to take hold.
“You’re the same as the rest of them.”
He sighed, almost as if he was exhausted. “I would like to think I’m not, and maybe if you’d give me a chance?—”
I didn’t want to hear it.
“You let them take my daughter from me, you bastard. If you had to kidnap me, why not wait until after the surgery and take us both?” My voice rose with each spoken word. “So no, I won’t do anything you demand. I want you dead, do you understand?”
The strain in the air pulled like a rubber band, threatening to snap.
“I fucking saved you. How about you show some gratitude?” he growled. “Killian would have ended you the moment he saw his wife and child in that operating room.”
Resentment expanded in my chest, the need to lash out suffocating me.
“You must have known this day would come,” he said, his tone softer now.
His words chafed me and I bit my lip, swallowing down my response. I flipped my gaze to the ceiling, staring stubbornly until my vision blurred. I refused to talk to him or anyone about my daughter. Amara was mine. I held her when she cried. I took care of her when she was sick. I protected her from the people who wanted her dead.
Not Emory DiLustro. Not Killian Cullen. Me .
Amara and I saved each other. If that didn’t make us family, I didn’t know what did.
A spoon appeared in front of my face with a curt command. “Eat.”
“I’d rather starve.”
His chuckle was throaty. “Damn, you’re still stubborn.”
My head snapped to look at him. “Still?”
Something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before I could comment. “Eat.”
Reluctantly, I parted my lips, wrinkling my nose in disgust the instant it hit my taste buds. I was right; he was feeding me baby food. I swallowed it, and when he lifted the next spoonful of it to my mouth, I turned my head away in exasperation.
“I’ve seen many torture techniques,” I muttered. “Spoon-feeding tasteless gunk is a new one, even for me.”
“You need to eat,” he growled.
“ Actual food,” I spat. “Not this fucking garbage.”
His gaze fell to the tray overflowing with edible food before returning to me. “You don’t deserve a gourmet meal.” I scoffed. “Unless…”
He trailed off, and my curiosity got the best of me. “Unless?”
“Unless we make a deal.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Men always had an agenda. “What kind of deal?”
“You promise to behave.”
“So baby food is really your form of punishment?” I said in disbelief. “I suspect it isn’t very effective.”
He shoved another spoonful of disgusting slop into my mouth. “You’d be surprised.”
“I bet. What does it do? Make your victims shit themselves?” I muttered sarcastically. The man had to be nuts. “Why do you have that crap anyhow? Have babies on board?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, but I had guests with an infant aboard not too long ago.”
My lips curled. “What? Did they eat all the adult food and leave you with this?”
He sighed.
“You’re really not helping your case, Liana.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, shooting him a scowl. “I promise not to bite you.” Only kill you . “Now, for the love of God, please give me some of that.” I nodded toward the tray.
He rolled his jaw, and I knew he was debating whether or not to trust me. I fluttered my eyes, even forced a smile while I held my breath, waiting for him to buy it. It didn’t take long.
“Okay then.”
With the room shrouded in silence, he fed me, and I greedily ate every spoonful he aimed my way. Scrambled eggs and bacon. Fresh fruit. Juice.
Seemingly lost in his thoughts, I studied my late husband’s nephew, looking for similarities and failing to find them. He had that going for him at least.
He smelled like pine, cigarettes, and something else. Cinnamon, maybe.
He was built like a brick wall but had the suave moves of a gentleman. It was all a disguise though, because if you stared long enough, you’d see a dangerous edge in his tense muscles and a darkness dancing behind those striking green eyes.
The man held my stare with disturbing interest and suspicion flared inside me.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said, and something in his expression made me wary. “Do you want to hear it?”
I remained silent, unwilling to play his stupid games.
Amusement brightened his expression. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m not. But you asked if I wanted to hear it, and I’m sure you know that I don’t, so…”
He muttered a few curses. “Are you ready to hear it?”
“No.”
His chuckle was throaty and dark. “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.”
“Then why bother asking?” All men were the fucking same. They dangled the illusion of choices, when in fact there were none.
He ignored me and continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I propose that we marry.”
It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me, freezing every atom in my body. There was no need to think about that one.
“No.”
My curt tone didn’t seem to dissuade him. “I can protect you.”
I smiled sweetly. “I can protect myself.”
“It would be convenient. You wouldn’t even have to change your last name. It would save you some paperwork.”
My mouth fell open. The man sure was thick.
“It would be convenient for whom?” I spat when I finally got myself together. But there was a disturbing gallop in my chest that I’d never experienced before.
“For both of us,” he reasoned with a straight face.
“I don’t mind the paperwork,” I said, but no sooner had the words left my mouth than an idea flickered in my mind. My gaze flicked to the open door behind him and I wondered if there was a way I could kill everyone on this boat. Except for the captain—I was humble enough to admit I’d need him.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” I hated his smile, all sparkling white teeth and full lips on a handsome, chiseled face.
“You wish,” I muttered as I fought a shiver. Fuck yes, I was scared. I valued my independence, had worked incredibly hard for it over the years, so the notion of tying myself to someone had my world flipping upside down.
I gazed out the window and said, “I’m not, but you haven’t exactly proven yourself as a desirable candidate.”
“You think someone better will come along?” I tensed at the subtle threat. My throat tightened at the idea of any man’s ring on my finger, keeping me in the legal form of captivity. “No one can save you from me, and if you agree, I’ll help you exact revenge on that last person.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “What do you know about my revenge?”
“Enough to know that a woman is on your list.”
“You know her? The Mistress?”
“The Mistress?” Surprise flashed in his eyes, and I knew it right there and then, he didn’t. “I don’t, but whoever she is, I can help you find her.” He kept his unwavering gaze on me. “Why is she called that? The Mistress?” “What did she do to you?”
Maybe he could help me and… I gave my head a subtle shake. No, he wasn’t trustworthy. Nobody could help me find the woman I was looking for.
“That’s none of your business,” I deadpanned. “I’ll pass. I don’t need your help.”
His eyes glinted like emeralds, shining with a dark edge while his gaze slid down my body, and suddenly I regretted wearing a dress when he kidnapped me yesterday.
The heat of his stare on my bare legs scorched, and I had never hated my body more than I did at this moment.
My skin stretched taut at this unwelcome physical reaction and at the memories of sadistic things that usually followed. The panicked urge to flee, to preserve my hard-earned freedom and peace, was thick in the air between us.
“I can save you.”
I lifted an indifferent shoulder and played it coolly. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t need anyone to save me.” Because I’m going to save myself. Like I’d been doing for the past eight years. “And I don’t need your help.”
“Yes, you do,” he claimed. “You need help and protection. The DiLustro family won’t be so forgiving for keeping Amara—their flesh and blood—hidden from them.”
“I didn’t steal her from them,” I gritted. “Let’s not forget that Gio DiLustro dumped Amara like she was a piece of trash.”
“You can argue all you want, but we both know who’ll be blamed.” He was right, but I wouldn’t admit it to him if my life depended on it. “My resources are vast, Liana. You could have access to them, find the woman you’re looking for faster. Once the dust settles, I’ll work with Amara’s parents on some compromise so you get to see her.”
The latter part sounded so tempting. The thought of never seeing Amara again gutted me, and I would do just about anything to be in her life.
Besides, my instincts told me Giovanni wouldn’t let up until I gave him the impression that I was considering his “proposition.”
My lungs grew tighter each second, and as distress stretched inside, I forced the words past my lips.
“I’ll think about marrying you, but if it comes to that, it will be only on paper. Touch me without my permission and you’re a dead man. And trust me, I’ll make it long and painful for you.”
Revulsion spread through me like acid at my agreement. I’d rather walk through hell than be tied to any man ever again. It took me years to wash the humiliation out of my mouth, but I remembered the way it tasted all too vividly.
Giovanni watched me for a long second, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Why?”
“Why am I going to make your death long and painful?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Gosh, where do I even start?”
“No, why agree to it?” he questioned.
I let out an exasperated breath. “First you’re making a proposition, and now that I’ve agreed to consider it, you’re questioning me?”
“Yes, I want to know why.”
Holding his gaze, I waited and waited, until I found my voice. Or maybe it was courage. “Maybe I want or need sex.”
I tried really hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I really did.
The truth was I could go without sex for another few years, although there were times I missed… affection. Or something along those lines.
“You just told me if I touch you, I’ll be a dead man,” he pointed out.
It was my turn to sigh.
“Because no human being should be touched without his or her permission,” I told him, using a tone that I usually reserved for little children.
“So sex is not off the table?”
Fucking men and sex. Was that the only thing they ever thought of?
“I haven’t had sex in years, if you want to call it that, and I’m not rushing into anything.” I despised him for dragging my admission out of me. It made me feel vulnerable, visibly broken. After all that I’d endured, there was never a single part of me that missed it.
“Are you messing with my head?” he growled, looking at me suspiciously.
I scoffed. “Just because I make a statement about the lack of sexual activity in my life, you accuse me of messing with your head?”
Giovanni’s eyes blazed, and it set something inside of me alight. Damn him. “You want to have sex?”
The man sounded way too eager for my tastes. Jesus Christ, was I getting in over my head?
“Not until we’re married.” Or fucking ever. Although, there was no denying that my voice sounded different, huskier and dipped in duplicity, which I hoped he didn’t recognize. His penetrating stare made me believe otherwise. “Besides, I’d like to be untied for it.” So I could think of another way to kill you.
“And I’d like a kiss.” There was a teasing tone to his voice, but I’d learned never to discount men.
“In your dreams.” The words flew out of my mouth, and there was no retrieving them.
“You’re right, you do kiss me in my dreams.” What. The. Actual. Fuck . “Is kissing where you draw the line?”
He smirked, and I decided it was probably a good thing I was tied up—for his sake anyway.
“I refuse to be restrained if we are to have this conversation.”
The steady beat of my heart rang in my ears as I waited to see if he’d bite. One step. Two. And sure as shit, he began untying my wrists. I shifted on the pillows, away from his heat, rubbing my tender skin as I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
“We can table the discussion for now, Liana. And I swear on my siblings’ lives, I will never force you or touch you without your permission,” Giovanni said, although there was clear disappointment on his face. “But I hope one day, you’ll trust me enough to allow me to touch you and to confide in me.”
I stilled, his words brushing against my frozen heart. Would I? I didn’t think so. Trust and hope were for fools, and I would no longer be one. Ever.
“Is it okay if I stand up and stretch? Or would you like to monitor that too?”
I was being sarcastic, and there was no way he missed that, but I couldn’t deny my unease at this whole thing. Who was I, asking for permission? Liana Volkov didn’t ask for fucking permission. Nonetheless, here we were, me waiting for this man’s acknowledgement.
Once he nodded his permission, I slid off the bed, my bare feet hitting the cool hardwood as I pulled my dress down.
I kept my body relaxed and my movements casual as I took a step toward the floor-to-ceiling window, getting a full view of the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. I couldn’t help but wonder how far we were from Venezuela and my daughter.
Amara. My little Mara.
My chest tightened, but I chose not to dwell on the pain. Self-pity never served anyone, and it certainly had never helped me in the past.
“Are we in danger of being swept up into the Bermuda triangle?” I asked casually, my eyes locked on the horizon. I was clutching at straws here, trying to determine our location, but I had nothing to lose. Let this man think I was a conspiracy theorist; I couldn’t care less. “I’ve heard of boats disappearing in it.”
“We’re only two hundred miles off the shores of Venezuela.”
I sensed him more than heard him come up behind me and I forced myself to slowly turn around and meet his gaze.
“I guess yachts move very slow.”
He cocked his eyebrow. “Have you never been on one?”
“No.”
“Been on a boat at all?”
“No.”
“But—”
Done with his questioning, I shoved him as hard as I could. Shock on his face as he fell backward was the last thing I saw before I bolted.
The sweet taste of vengeance filled every fiber of my being, spurring me onward, when he grabbed my ankle. I hit the floor hard, all the air whooshing out of me, and a vase from the little coffee table smashed, scattering shards all over the floor.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I gasped as I scrambled for purchase. “I’ll make you regret it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he growled through clenched teeth. He sounded furious, but I couldn’t risk glancing at him. Instead, I focused on reaching for the crystal ashtray, hatred burning through me, giving me an extra boost.
Feeling the cool object under my fingertips, I swung it around and it met its intended target. Suddenly, he released me, and I scrambled to my feet. I was out of the bedroom a half breath later, adrenaline rushing through me and fueling me with extra speed, but even before I made it around the hallway, I collided with a guard.
His gun dropped to the floor with a thud and I dived for it, the move sending my knees and wrists thrumming with agony. Ignoring it, I reached for the gun.
My fingers gripped the cold metal and I lifted my arms, aiming for the man’s heart. Pop, pop, pop. Shots cut through the air, making my ears ring.
Blood splattered all over me. The man’s body fell before I could jump back to my feet, and my vision went dark as terror took hold of me, feeling a man’s body on top of mine for the first time in years.
A scream tore up my throat but I swallowed it, shoving the body off me, the gun still firmly between my fingers.
Panting, I used the last flare of energy to jump to my feet. I caught sight of Giovanni at the end of the hallway, his gaze locked on my bloodstained clothes.
Once on the outside deck, my eyes set on the sunset in the distance. I was running out of time. Bracing a hand on the rail to support myself, I kept on going until I reached the stairs, where I stopped dead.
A younger version of Giovanni stood in front of me. The man I shot along with Giovanni . His arm was bandaged and he wore an expression that told me he wouldn’t mind paying me back for the transgression.
My heartbeat drummed in my ears, penetrating my heavy breaths and mixing with the waves crashing against the side of the yacht. More men appeared. Guards. First mates. Giovanni.
And they all had guns and rifles pointed at me.
If I tried to run, they would fill me with lead.
The first tear fell, and hopelessness threatened to buckle my knees. I was grossly outnumbered. I was aware of how dumb my plan was, born out of desperation. Out of fear.
As the wind whipped at my hair and my skin, that familiar cold terror clawed at my skin. I was again that eighteen-year-old girl with broken hopes and dreams.
Brutalized. Discarded.
And that terrified me.
I looked over at the rough sea, its depths calling me. I wasn’t sure that there was any other way of escaping this.
“Liana.” Giovanni’s presence brushed at my back, but I forced myself to stand still. “There’s nowhere else to go and you know it.”
Goosebumps rose up, something frightening whispering in my ear and calling me to the edge. I took a step. Another.
“Don’t you even think about it.” Giovanni’s warning reached me over the wind.
Another step and I closed my eyes, a single name ringing in my ears.
Amara.