Chapter 5
LUNA
I’m in a prison.
Yes, it’s a swanky penthouse in one of the most sought-after buildings in the city, with views to die for. Much like its owner, it’s jaw-droppingly spectacular.
But it may as well be a prison. Because the bedroom I’ve been escorted to has a lock on the outside, not on the inside. And when Priest left me here, I heard the dead bolt sliding into place.
Like any good warden, he confiscated my phone.
I’m standing at the window that overlooks the city.
Lights and traffic and people swirl so many stories below, but I ignore the breathtaking view.
I’m trying to find a way to open the window and get to the ledge beyond.
It’s terrifying to think about climbing on the outside of this building, but that’s how desperate I am to escape this nightmare.
I’ve been abducted. Imprisoned. I’m in a hell of my father’s making.
Because he’s given me to the most brutal devil of all the Andrianis. The one who’s beautiful enough to be an angel. The angel of death.
And if I don’t do what he wants me to do, he’ll kill me.
The reminder has me moving, my fingers traveling along the edges of the window, searching for any hint of a latch, a way for me to open it. There’s nothing. The windows are sealed. No way to prop them open, no screens.
Damn it.
My head falls forward, dropping on the cool pane of glass.
“Nice try.”
The voice is soft and smoky and it’s disembodied, but it’s his . Priest’s.
I jerk my head away from the window, swiveling around to find the source.
“You didn’t think I’d lock you in a room where you could escape through a window, did you, topolina ?”
He’s darkly amused.
And he’s watching me on a fucking camera that I haven’t found yet.
“I’m not a little mouse,” I snarl, feeling feral. “If anything, I’m a fucking lioness, waiting to pounce on you and rip out your jugular.”
He laughs, his chuckle low and pleasant.
This dickhead takes me hostage, locks me in a room, spies on me, and thinks it’s funny. But then, he also kills people for a living. So, yeah. I guess two plus two equals four.
“I hope you don’t ever sleep,” I tell him cheerfully. “Because the second you close your eyes, I’m going to kill you.”
“Oh, bella .” He tsks, his voice patronizing. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”
I’m still trying to find the camera when I finally realize it’s hidden high in a corner and out of reach, nestled into the detailed crown molding.
“Give me half a chance, and I will,” I tell him, staring straight at the camera.
There’s only silence on the other end.
“Andriani,” I try again.
Nothing.
“Answer me, you bastard,” I cry out in frustration.
“You can’t just leave me here like this, locked in a room.
I’ve got no food, no water. You took my phone.
This is torture. Is that what you’re planning on doing, starving me into marrying you?
Can’t pick up a woman the normal way, so you have to abduct one and torture her into saying yes, is that it, you fucking lunatic? ”
More quiet stillness descends. Nothing but my pounding heart.
Not even the muffled sounds of traffic below.
We’re far above the city, overlooking it like mythical gods, and just as we can’t hear them, they can’t hear us.
Specifically, me. I’m trapped here, some kind of modern-day Persephone, only the underworld he’s dragged me to is a penthouse in the sky.
Hands clenched into fists at my sides, I glare at the camera.
He’s either watching me but no longer speaking, or he’s abandoned me.
There’s nothing in this sparse room to throw.
Nothing but a king-size bed, two pillows, and a comforter.
There’s not even a nightstand. So, I decide to make a missile of my own.
I take off one of my heeled sandals and launch it at the camera. “Take that, you fucker.”
If he thinks I’m going to accept this forced marriage without one hell of a fight, he has no idea who he’s just abducted.
Game on.
Priest
Whistling because I’m in a good fucking mood now that I have Luna Revello where she belongs, I return to the control room in my penthouse where Rocco’s monitoring the cameras. I throw an apple in the air, catch it, and take a bite, feeling like I just took that bite out of the whole damned world.
“How’s my lovely wife-to-be?” I ask him, chewing the apple slowly, relishing the crunch.
It’s crisp, juicy, and tart, just the way I like.
“Pissed,” Rocco deadpans. “You’re lucky you had the boys take all the shit out of the room before you locked her in it.”
“Still throwing her shoes at the camera?” I ask, unperturbed.
She’ll wear herself out eventually.
She’ll get tired.
Hungry.
Thirsty.
Docile.
That’s when I’ll unlock the door. We’ll talk. She’ll see it my way. Because she won’t have any other choice.
“What’s left of them,” he says.
I lean down, still eating my apple, looking at the monitors. “She break them or what?”
“The heels came off an hour ago. Now she’s got four missiles instead of two.”
Thunk. Something hits the camera trained on the room where I’m keeping her.
“Fuck you, you sadistic motherfucker!” she shouts.
And my dick starts to get hard. Yeah, she’s not wrong about me. I am sadistic. And I am a motherfucker too.
“Feisty,” I say.
“I’ll chop off your dick in your sleep!” Luna yells before launching a broken heel at the camera.
Fuck, she’s hot when she’s riled.
Maybe I don’t want her docile after all.
Rocco whistles. “The future Mrs. Andriani isn’t a happy camper, boss.”
Mrs. Andriani. For some reason, I like the way that sounds.
On her . I watch her hurling insults and pieces of her shoes at the camera, taking another bite of my apple.
Her hair has worked its way out of her messy bun, and it’s hanging down her back.
She looks feral and fierce, and the next few weeks are going to be a hell of a lot more interesting than I thought.
I hit the intercom. “ Bella , if you don’t stop being violent, I’m going to have to tie you to the bed for our little talk.”
She holds up a severed heel, pointing it toward the camera. “Try it, and I’ll stab you in the eye.”
I release the intercom, chuckling. “This should be interesting.”
Rocco raises a brow. “You want me to send some of the boys in with you?”
“Jesus, Roc. Do I look like I can’t take a five-foot-tall graduate student? What’s she going to do, slit my throat with poetry?”
“’Course not, but you don’t usually tangle with furious banshees.”
“Banshee? You fucking Irish now or what?” I toss the rest of my apple into a nearby trash can, amused.
“Never.” He grins. “I’m too damn good-looking to be one of the O’Rourke crew.”
“Eh, I don’t know about that. You’re all a bunch of ugly fuckers.”
I bust Rocco’s ass all the time; he’s immune to it by now, shrugging a shoulder. “What are you going to do about her?”
He’s back on the subject of Luna, who is continuing to sling verbal abuse and dismembered shoe pieces at the camera. Rocco muted the audio, so we can’t hear her. Which is probably for the best. I’m no lip-reader, but it looks like she’s just mouthed something particularly unkind.
I sigh. “I’m going to marry her.”
Rocco winces. “You sure you want to do that, boss?”
“We both know I don’t have a choice. The sooner it’s done, the better. We need the Andrianis and the Revellos aligned if we want to keep the Russians and the rest of the families under control.”
“I don’t see why we couldn’t have just taken care of Tomasso,” Rocco says.
“You know why. The old bastard has cancer, and it’s only a matter of time before that crazy son of a bitch Amedeo ‘the Animal’ Revello makes a move to become don in his place.
We need Revello territory to fight the brewing turf war.
Uniting with blood ties puts an end to the feud.
Revello saves his ass, we save his daughter’s, and with the families united, we face the Irish and the Russians. ”
Rocco shakes his head. “I don’t like it. Feels like a trap.”
An icy feeling of unease rolls down my spine. Rocco has a sixth sense about shit like this. He always has.
“It’s marriage,” I say. “Of course it’s a fucking trap.”
He scrubs at his jaw, looking amped up. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it, boss. Tomasso Revello giving you his daughter on a silver platter. Doesn’t sit right.”
“He didn’t have a choice, Roc. People do crazy shit when you have a gun to their head.”
Whether it was loaded or not.
Rocco juts his chin toward the monitor where Luna Revello is still yelling and throwing and having the world’s biggest grown-ass woman temper tantrum.
It’s kind of like watching a fly buzz around the head of a lion.
Amusing, till the lion decides he’s had enough of that shit and swallows the fly whole.
“What if it’s a setup and this is all an act?” Rocco presses. “What if she’s in on it, and the second you go through that door, she shivs you? You check her for weapons?”
I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t think of that.
Everything about Luna screams innocence and nerdy genius, right down to the ink stains on her fingers.
Who fucking writes with pens these days?
Her righteous anger feels all too real. But I didn’t pat her down either, and that was a stupid mistake brought on by my fury over Tomasso laying a hand on her.
“I’ll check her when I go in,” I tell Rocco grimly, turning toward the door to the control room and sauntering out like I don’t have a care in the world. “Oh, and Roc?” I stop and glance over my shoulder. “Turn that fucking monitor off the second I’m inside.”
“But, boss?—”
“The instant I’m inside,” I interrupt, not wanting to be second-guessed here. “A little mouse like Luna Revello can’t hurt me.”
The words fall, an ominous taunt to the universe.
But I don’t believe in shit like that, so the universe can fuck right off. I’ve got an angry wife-to-be to tame.