Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Eleonora
He approaches calmly, steps measured, like the garden path belongs to him and I’m the intruder. As he closes the distance, I catch the ink peeking from his collar and curling around the cuffs of his sleeves.
He’s tall enough that I have to tilt my head back slightly to meet those flat whisky brown eyes, broad enough that the air feels like it’s shrinking around us. Danger rolls off him in waves.
My heart slams against my ribs so hard I’m sure he can see it fluttering under the silk bodice. Sweat prickles at the base of my spine despite the cool air.
My eyes dart, left toward the main path, right toward the gate Domenico used, back to the roses that suddenly look like they could snag me and hold me here forever.
The dress is heavy, restrictive; the train would tangle around my ankles before I made it ten feet. He’d drop me with one shot before I even cleared the hedge.
He must read every frantic calculation on my face because his voice drops, low and quiet, almost intimate.
“If you make any move, your sister will be dead before security even gets to her.”
My breath catches. I whip my head toward the path.
Through the hedges I see Camilla standing near the path, speaking politely to one of the guests. Just behind her stands another man in a dark suit. Close enough that if he reached out, he could grab her before she even had time to turn. The man looks straight at me. Then he gives a small nod.
I turn back to the man. “Who are you?” The words come out steadier than I feel. “What do you want?”
He tilts his head again, the barest curve touching his mouth. Not a smile. Something darker.
“Inquisitive, aren’t we?” His tone is almost amused, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
I look back at Camilla, still talking, and the scream builds in my chest to let her know of the impending danger. I open my mouth to let it out. But he’s on me in an instant.
One hand clamps over my mouth, hard, muffling the sound before it can escape.
His palm tastes faintly of gunmetal and cedar.
His other arm snakes around my waist, pinning me back against the solid wall of his chest. He’s warm, too warm, and so close the whiff of his cologne invades my senses, and I can feel the steady thud of his heartbeat against my spine, slow and unhurried while mine races like it’s trying to break free.
His lips brush the shell of my ear. “That would be a stupid thing to do.”
His voice is low and vibrates through my skin, sinking straight into my bloodstream.
For one stupid, traitorous second, heat coils low in my belly.
His breath fans hot against my neck, his grip firm but not bruising, and something inside me flickers, confuses danger with something darker, something that makes my thighs clench before I can stop it.
I snap myself back.
He’s going to kidnap you. Or worse.
The reminder brings me back to my senses.
I thrash, trying to twist free. His hold tightens just enough to remind me he’s not letting go.
“Stop,” he snaps. “Be a good girl,” he murmurs, lips still grazing my ear, “and I won’t have to signal my man over there to put a bullet in your sister’s head.” He pauses, lets the words sink in. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
The fight drains out of me like someone pulled a plug. My eyes lock on Camilla again. She’s still engrossed in conversation, head tilted, smiling, completely unaware that a killer is standing at her back.
From here, we can see her clearly through a gap in the foliage, but the angle and the roses hide us from her view. One wrong move and that laugh ends in a gunshot.
“So which is it going to be?” His voice stays low, reasonable, like we’re negotiating dinner plans. “Either way, you’re leaving here with me.”
I nod. Slowly.
He feels the change in me, the way my body goes still, and his grip eases fractionally. Not enough to let go.
“Wise decision,” he murmurs, voice low and satisfied. His hand closes around my upper arm, firm, and he starts steering me away from the garden corridor.
We move toward the service exit tucked behind the cathedral, gravel crunching under our steps. A black SUV idles there, engine purring like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.
I let my steps slow, just a little, enough to pull against his grip and throw off his pace. He adjusts without looking back, tugging me forward.
I twist my wrist, trying to slip free. His fingers shift, cutting off every angle before it goes anywhere.
I lean in and snap my teeth at his hand, catching skin. He doesn’t flinch, looks at me instead, eyes unreadable. His grip changes, now rougher, and he keeps walking. I’m forced to move with him
Where the hell are Papa’s men? The security detail that’s supposed to be everywhere. Useless when it matters most.
“You’re making a big mistake,” I say. “My father will come after you. He’ll find you. And when he does, he’ll kill you slow.”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, like I just told a mildly funny joke. “You really believe your father’s some kind of superhero, don’t you?”
He’s not. Massimo Caruso is ruthless. He’s never been a hero to any of us. But the alliance with Matteo Gallo is everything. Letting the bride disappear means letting that deal bleed out. He’ll burn this city down before he lets that happen.
“My father will have his men on you the second he realizes I’m gone,” I tell him. “Let’s see who’s laughing then.”
He doesn’t break stride. “I’ll be waiting when Daddy dearest decides to show.”
We reach the SUV. The back door opens before we get there. He maneuvers me in first, then slides in beside me. The driver pulls away smoothly.
My kidnapper reaches into his jacket, pulls out a zip tie. Before I can react, he’s looping it around my wrists, pulling it snug but not cutting circulation. His eyes lock on mine.
“Do I have to tape your mouth, or are you going to behave?”
I press my lips together hard, swallowing the surge of fury that wants to spill out in a scream. I have no idea who he is or what he wants from me. But one thing is clear, if I’m getting out of this alive, it starts with playing smart.
He raises a thick brow, waiting.
I nod.
“Good.”
The windows are heavily tinted, I twist to look back as we pull away from the cathedral grounds. Guests still mill on the steps, waiting for the bride who’s never coming.
“You should be thanking me,” he says, voice casual, like we’re sharing small talk. “Andrea’s a loser. You’d have hated being married to him.”
I turn my head slowly, meeting his gaze head-on through the veil that’s still obscuring my face.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re a real upgrade,” I say, voice dripping acid. “Kidnapping brides in the middle of their wedding, very chivalrous. Do you practice that line in front of the mirror, or does it just come naturally when you’re ruining someone’s plan?”
His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but close. One corner of his mouth lifts. “At least I didn’t need an arranged marriage to secure my power.”
“Oh, I’m sure you secured it the old-fashioned way,” I reply sweetly.
His eyes darken. “Careful.”
“I’m just saying, if you’re kidnapping brides for attention, you might want to—”
He cuts me off, leaning in just enough that his presence fills the space between us.
“Keep talking,” he says quietly, “and I’ll tape that pretty mouth shut.”
I shut it.
The driver glances in the rearview mirror and they exchange a look. The car accelerates, weaving into traffic. I study him now that we’re moving, really study him. The way he sits, back straight but relaxed, one arm draped across the seat, screams control.
The extraction was too clean. This isn’t some desperate rogue move. This is organized, calculated.
As I study his face, the pieces click. I’ve seen him before, not up close, but across crowded ballrooms and at charity galas where Massimo paraded us like trophies.
He’s Nico Lombardi. Port Syndicate Don. The man who controls the docks my father needs to keep his weapons flowing east. One of the few rivals who can actually hurt the Gallo alliance before it’s even sealed.
“If you’re taking me because you think I can give you dirt on my father, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” I say, keeping my voice even despite the fear zipping through me,
Nico doesn’t even turn his head just a slow exhale through his nose, like I’m a fly buzzing too close.
“Really?”
“He doesn’t tell any of us anything.”
He quirks a brow. “So you’re useless?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
I lean back against the seat, the zip ties biting into my wrists as I shift. “If you’re expecting trade secrets, you picked the wrong Caruso.”
A small exhale leaves him. Almost a sigh, the first real crack in that iron composure. “What part of be quiet isn’t getting through that pretty head?”
“I understand it perfectly,” I shoot back, inspecting my fingers like they are suddenly interesting. “I’m choosing not to participate.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“I know who you are,” I add.
He arches a brow.
“Nico Lombardi.”
A pause.
“Then you also know I don’t need your help to get what I want from your father.” The way he says it, sends a ripple of unease through me.
“And if you don’t shut that mouth,” he continues, voice dropping a fraction, “I’m going to be forced to knock you out.”
I hold his gaze. “You need me alive.”
A flicker of something passes through his eyes. Interest? Amusement?
He leans in until his face is inches from mine. His voice drops, velvet over steel.
“I can always go for another one of your sisters after I kill you. Camilla looked easy enough to grab. Or maybe the little one, Daniela. Eleonora perhaps. Plenty of Caruso daughters to choose from.”
A cold shiver slides down my spine before I can stop it. My skin prickles, my breath catching. He’s not bluffing. Men like him never do.
I open my mouth to speak but I’m cut off as a shot cracks through the air like the sky splitting open.