49. Wynter
Wynter
I stepped off the treadmill, my breathing heavy. I had been at it for the past hour and a half. But it felt good. The stress reliever I needed, despite the little sleep I had.
Striding to the stereo, I turned off the music and turned around to find three pairs of eyes on me. I halted for a second, unsure why they were there. The look on their faces was grim and Dante glared at me accusingly.
Something deep inside me snapped and I glared at him back.
“What are you staring at?” I asked, my eyes narrowed on Dante. “You kidnapped me, remember? So you can’t look unhappy about me being here.”
Bas’ sister chuckled and slapped him across the chest. “Man, she really doesn’t like you.”
I rolled my eyes.
Emory’s sister was surprisingly… nice. For a kidnapper. Knowing I had a regimented training schedule, she came to find me in the room and offered me some gym clothes.
“Want to have breakfast with us?” she offered.
My eyes darted to Bas and I fucking hated it that it almost looked like I was asking for a permission.
“Yes, she’ll have breakfast with us,” Bas answered for me and my eyes narrowed on him in annoyance. Or maybe at myself, heck if I knew.
“I can answer for myself, thank you very much.”
So I turned my attention back to his sister. “Yes, thank you.”
“Jesus, they’re not even married yet and they’re bickering,” Dante remarked, grinning like an idiot.
Then the meaning of his words sunk in and my eyes shot to Dante, then darted to Bas.
“Married?” I repeated, sounding like I didn’t know what married meant.
“I’ll take you to your room so you can get showered,” Bas offered, then dismissed his sister and Dante. He grabbed my arm and led me up the stairs back toward my room. I didn’t say anything, waiting for him to explain what Dante meant by his words.
The moment we were in my room, I whirled around and met his eyes. Dark, intense, burning with something I could feel deep down in my toes.
“What is Dante talking about?” I demanded to know, my breathing still choppy.
Bas watched me. Our gazes locked, his dark eyes dragging me deeper and deeper down into their abyss. Yes, there was harshness in them, ruthlessness and something unhinged. But also hints of vulnerability and pain that I caused when I walked away from him.
He towered over me, his eyes full of dark obsession. Then he bent his head, holding my gaze. Almost as if he expected me to step back. But I didn’t. I held my head high and held his gaze. He closed the distance and his lips grazed my chin.
My heart beat wildly, like it was my first kiss. His mouth seared my skin, his scent seeped into my bloodstream. God, he was my poison. The sweetest kind that would end up killing me. I held my breath, while his lips moved down my cheek, until they met my mouth.
I held still, fighting the urge to lean into him. Like a moth moving toward the flame, waiting for him to ignite my wings.
Taking a sharp inhale, my breath caught in my throat when his hand came to my waist, his grip firm. My chest brushed against his and my pulse beat in my ears. His touch was just as searing as I remembered.
“Take a shower, principessa,” he whispered in my ear, his voice laced with a rough edge. “Or I’ll bathe you myself.”
He turned around and stormed out, leaving me staring at the spot where he stood. Unable to tear my gaze away, I remained still.
My throat felt thick, the need choked my lungs and despair scratched at my chest.
I’d never survive him, not this time.
* * *
When I came out of the shower, I found clothes for me laid out on the bed. Just a simple pair of brand new undergarments, black jeans, and a black crew neck shirt. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it belonged to Emory.
She seemed to have a thing for black, but I was grateful to her. Once dressed, I left to head down the stairs. I found the Kingpins of the DiLustro family whispering among themselves only to stop as soon as I walked in.
It was eleven in the morning and later than usual for breakfast, but with their criminal activities last night, namely kidnapping me, I imagined they all had a later morning start.
“Hello, Wynter,” Priest greeted me, frowning deeply and watching me with a weird look in his eyes.
I stood for a moment, then tilted my head and strode to an empty chair. The furthest one from all four of them. They followed suit, taking their seats. Except for Bas. He came over and sat next to me. I shot him an annoyed look, but I didn’t say anything.
“Do you have everything you need?” Bas asked as he placed a napkin on his lap.
“Do you Italians always wear a three-piece-suit?” I blurted out, irritated.
A heartbeat of silence and the room filled with laughter. Even Bas. I hated how much I missed his laugh, how the sound of his laugh made me all jittery on the inside and sent a warm timbre rumbling down my back.
“Not always,” Dante chuckled.
“When we fuck, we don’t wear it,” Bas commented, his voice laced with something dark and suggestive.
Duh, I knew that, but I didn’t acknowledge his words.
“How long have you been skating?” Emory asked as she reached for the carbs on her side of the table. I guess it was her attempt to help me dodge a bullet.
“Long time,” I muttered. Truthfully, I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t skate.
As we all dug into our food, the four of them chatted while I just listened and ate. They stuck to generic subjects. After all, they were masterminds of the underworld. Unlike Juliette, Ivy, Davina, and I. The four of us were a catastrophe of the underworld.
I couldn’t help but notice how comfortable Emory was with the gun strapped to her holster. She was like a badass femme fatale. Did her father teach her that or Bas?
A cold shiver ran down my back at the memory of her father. I hated his guts. There were so many nights I wished I pointed that gun to his head and pulled the trigger. He’d be dead and no longer part of my nightmares. He’d have paid for destroying my mother’s life.
“Wynter?” Priest’s voice pulled me back to the present company. Three sets of dark eyes and one set of blue eyes met me. Among his cousins, his hair and eyes seemed even starker.
“You okay?” Emory asked, frowning.
“Yes.”
“What were you thinking about?” Bas asked.
How I want to kill your father . But I didn’t say that, instead I answered, “Nothing.”
“Umm, I asked why you switched from single to pair skating,” Emory stated, her eyes sharp on me. She might not resemble her brother, but she was just as sharp as he was.
My eyes burned, and I blinked to ease the sting. The memories of their father’s attack clawed at my chest with every shallow breath. But even worse, for my mother who had lost everything when she was my age.
“My mother’s specialty was pair skating,” I answered, my voice distant to my own ears.
I turned to look at Bas. I ached for him, every minute of the day.
It was a raw kind of ache, constantly present in my chest. It had become a constant companion from the moment I walked away from him.
But my love for him was a direct betrayal to my mother.
“She was shot in the knee. It ruined-” Her .
“... her career. But then you knew that, didn’t you?
” I questioned, keeping my attention to Bas.
The tension was so palpable, I feared it’d snap and leave death in its wake. “After all, you are your father’s son.”
Bas’ eyes turned dark and hard, something harsh and brutal in them sent fear down my spine. For the first time in my life, I was terrified of Bas. I tried to hide it, I really did. But my hands shook badly as I tried to clench them together and my lip quivered.
If I started crying, I’d lose my shit. Don’t start crying! Don’t start crying!
Bas shot up from his chair and it landed back with a loud thump, making me jump in my seat. He stormed out of there with a dark expression on his face and his jaw clenched so hard, it had to hurt.
Dante and Priest were right behind him, leaving me alone with Emory and wondering if Bas knew what his father had done to me.