Chapter 12
ALICE
I’m in shock. My mind is scrambled as I attempt to filter what just occurred.
It all happened so fast. One minute we were tearing toward the end of the runway, and then the brakes were applied, causing the entire jet to jolt forward.
The man in front of me roared as the seatbelt cut into him, and yet I was the lucky one because my ropes held tight, and I hardly moved at all.
Almost before the jet stopped, the door crashed in, and fire officers entered the plane.
At least I thought they were, but gunfire erupted, and as my captor reached for his gun, he was rewarded with a bullet in the chest. It blasted a hole so big he died on impact, and I screamed as he fell on his back, his life gone in a split second.
I have never been so terrified as hell breaks loose in the cabin and before I can register anything other than the horror unfolding around me, my ropes are cut, and I am pulled quickly toward the exit.
I am running to keep up and I almost fly down the steps before I’m bundled into a black car that is waiting beside the fire truck.
I’m joined by one man who thumps on the partition, separating the driver, and the car takes off almost as fast as the jet was aiming to do.
“Buckle up.” The stern voice instructs me, and for once I do as I’m told because, despite everything, I am so relieved to be off of that plane.
I attempt to steady my erratic breathing as I order my mind, and as the airfield disappears from view, I finally slide my gaze to the man who rescued me. At least I think he did.
I swallow hard when I take my first look at a man who makes every other man fade into oblivion.
He is angry, the dark frown on his impossibly handsome face obscuring the beauty of his chiseled jaw and dark flashing eyes issuing a strong warning.
If a man is considered beautiful, he takes first place, and my breath hitches as I note the power emanating from this man.
He is cool, controlled and a machine even, as he gazes coolly in my direction, not one ounce of compassion in his expression.
“You’re welcome.”
Is all he says, despite the fact that I never said a thing.
“For what?” I find my voice and he raises an impeccable brow.
“For saving you from a life of hell.”
“Is that what happened?”
I’m not so sure, and a hint of amusement almost replaces the angry frown.
“Probably not, but you’re welcome, anyway.”
“Who are you?”
I must be operating on survival mode right now because the fact that I just witnessed Armageddon is nothing to what I am experiencing now. I have never met anyone like this man, and curiosity has replaced my fear—for now, anyway.
“I’m the man who was booked into the seat beside you on the flight to New York.”
My eyes widen as his autocratic voice cuts through the tension building between us.
“I’m the man instructed to make sure you reach New York in one piece and I’m the man who is seriously pissed that you decided to go off script causing me more trouble than I thought was possible from a woman fresh out of the fucking convent.”
He is angry; it’s evident from the ticking of his jaw and the fire flashing from his eyes and yet despite all of that, I snap, “Watch your mouth. Respect where I came from.”
His eyes widen and if I ever stared fear in the eye, it’s this moment, despite what happened on that jet.
“Respect!” The dark glare from his eyes causes me to shift on my seat and he hisses, “You earn respect, sweetheart, and so far your bank is empty. Excuse me for being a little irritated by the fact that I have just orchestrated the slaughter of an entire mafia family, which will tie us up in red tape for fucking years. Not to mention the war we just started and the repercussions that will involve, so don’t lecture me about respect when your choices have serious consequences. ”
“I didn’t ask you to rescue me.” My expression is angry, but I hate how my voice shakes.
“Would you rather I didn’t?”
He leans forward, invading my space, his anger searing every part of me inside and out. It’s oppressive, deadly and so damn hot I can’t think straight.
“Would you rather be married to a depraved psycho like Liam Dettori and raped repeatedly for the rest of your life because I’m guessing you wouldn’t agree to it willingly?”
Tears trickle down my face as the enormity of what just happened hits me, and yet he obviously doesn’t have any compassion because he says through gritted teeth, “Being tied to that chair was nothing compared to what he had planned for your future.”
He reaches up and touches my flaming cheek.
“What he did was a mere fraction of what he was capable of. He was a sadistic brute who loved to beat women into submission. He would have broken every bone in your body until you bowed to his will. You would be pregnant before you landed, and it wouldn’t have been an enjoyable experience.
I’m sorry if you didn’t ask to be rescued, and that I used a bad word but I’m not sorry I rescued you from a fate worse than death.
So, a little gratitude would go a long way right now while I figure out how to get you to your destination in one piece. ”
He drops his hand and moves away, reaching into a compartment by his side.
He hands me a bottle of water and snaps, “Drink this. All of it.”
I eye the bottle with suspicion, causing him to sigh. “It’s sealed, and it’s just water. Trust me on that at least.”
“The last water I drank was drugged.”
Tears burn in my eyes as I remember how betrayal cut deep.
“The gardener, I’m guessing.”
“Stefan.” Sadness engulfs me as I remember how happy I was to be with him, and the man beside me growls irritably, “I wish I had shot that fucker myself.”
“Is he dead?”
My heart leaps as I face that possibility.
“Of course he’s fucking dead. Do you really believe he deserved to live after what he did to you?”
Why am I strangely touched by that statement?
I say nothing, and an awkward silence rests between us, and I sip the water more as a distraction than anything else.
He takes a call, and I close my eyes as his strong voice ripples around me, strangely comforting.
“Commercial isn’t an option. I would be arrested for domestic abuse as soon as we got on the plane.”
He pauses and then adds, “Yeah, her face is a pretty painting of tragedy right now. Send for the jet; we must take no chances.”
A painting of tragedy.
I can only imagine what I must resemble right now, but tragedy. Am I tragic? I don’t want to be, but somehow the description fits my life perfectly right now.
“The Excelsior, meet you there.”
He ends the call, and his instructions cut through the tension.
“We can’t take a commercial flight. Liam messed up your face pretty bad and it would only draw attention to us.
We’ll wait for my private jet to arrive from New York.
The Excelsior Hotel is nearby and when we get there, you are to hold my hand and appear to be my loving wife because we are booked in as Mr. and Mrs. Sloane. ”
“Why?” I’m confused about that, and his irritated hiss warns me I should have kept my question to myself.
“Because it may have escaped your attention that you are being pursued and Liam Dettori wasn’t the only one.”
“What do you mean?”
I must be missing out on something important here and he huffs, “It’s why you were taking the bus into town.
Why I was sent to escort you to your destination and why we are in deep shit right now because you, Alice Zaferelli are an heiress of billions along with your sisters.
Under the terms and conditions of your father’s will, you must be married and pregnant by the time your younger sister hits twenty-five to receive a dollar.
It’s a pretty big attraction for every criminal, hell any man with ambition, and it appears that you are the last to know about it. ”
As the words sink in, my situation hits hard, and everything becomes clear. Money. That’s what this is all about. Money, greed and ambition, and it appears that men will stop at nothing to seize it all.
He takes another call, and I weep bitter tears of defeat inside. My legacy has haunted me since the day I was born, and it appears it will never stop until I take full charge of my situation.
It’s down to me. I already know that, and this time I will not hide away from my responsibilities.
If anything, today has taught me not to trust anyone, even God, as it happens, because even while I was safely tucked up inside his house, he allowed the devil inside, and I will never forgive him for that.
My faith has been destroyed along with compassion. I have a feeling that the man sitting beside me now is the perfect weapon I can use to get answers and if he thinks he’s the one calling the shots now, he’s about to learn a valuable lesson because I am not a victim and I never will be.