Caterina
With the reopening and gala around the corner, I need to set up the pieces for the museum redesign, but all I can think about is Connor.
Danny too.
I told him to attack if Connor was set to escape Verone’s place before the police arrived.
I haven’t heard yet from my father or brother. Not Connor or Danny either.
The Danny part worries me more than anything. He’s a skilled enforcer, but he’s not cunning like a certain Gallagher.
There’s no one quite like Connor, and that fact both frightens and exhilarates me.
As a result, I’m checking my phone like a teenage girl with her first crush.
I’m no good to the Cosmopolitan in this state, so I grab my coat and bag, lock up my office, and go for a stroll in Clayfield Park to clear my head.
I wish I had an appetite, as I could sure go for a sandwich from my favorite deli right now.
Maybe the walk will change that.
Heading west, I weave through the throngs of pedestrians on the sidewalk.
Within moments, I feel eyes on the back of my head.
A familiar tingling over my skin informs me of the voyeur’s identity before I even turn around.
Connor stands just a few feet behind me. Although he’s not glaring or frowning, his tight expression instills me with uneasiness…
The man’s pissed.
He opens his jacket to show me his gun.
My spine tingles, fear and anticipation tangled together.
Funny. Even being part of the family I belong to, I never imagined I’d be taken away at gunpoint like this. “Lead the way.”
He places his hand on my arm and tugs me around a corner to a Range Rover parked in an alley.
As I reach for the door handle, a sharp pinch pricks my neck, and then I tumble into darkness.
Caterina
I wake, fuzzy-mouthed, nauseous, and chained to a cement support pole in an expansive, gloomy space.
A scream itches the back of my throat, but with my body and brain out of sync, no sound emerges.
Though the room’s dark, I can discern some rolled-up mats, old gym equipment, and weights. A partially shredded punching bag lies in a heap just outside my reach.
Some kind of training facility, maybe, but probably from three decades ago based on the antiquated machines.
The air smells of dust, or possibly chalk. Or maybe that’s just the taste coating my teeth.
My tongue feels thick, my throat dry and scratchy. I’m dehydrated, dizzy, and drained.
“Conn—!” I choke on his name, coughing until my chest heaves and aches. I need water.
How stupid can I be? I know what he’s capable of, and I still called the cops on him. Sicced my driver on him. He could’ve been jailed or killed because of what I did.
I’m not getting out of the fact that I lied and set him up.
Will he put a bullet through my head and sign his name across my chest for my brother to find?
I wouldn’t even blame him if he did. Twice now, I’ve tried to end this man. I’ve gotten even and then some.
I thought if I could get rid of both Domenico Verone and Connor, I’d appear more than capable in the eyes of my father, and by default, my brother.
This was my chance to save my family and earn a permanent seat at the adult table so they’d finally listen to me about not joining forces with the Bratva.
I knock my head against the pole, studying the chains shackled around each wrist. “What the hell have I done?”
“That’s what I was wondering.” Connor climbs out of the shadows like a demon, stopping in front of me with an almost delighted expression.
“Connor, please don’t do this.” I shake the chains out of instinct more than anything. A caged animal can’t help but try and break free. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Can we talk?”
I have no idea what I’d even say. I don’t know how long I’ve been here or how long he’s had to stew in what I did to him. My demise is written all over his face.
His nonchalance chills me to the bone. Underneath that strange, off-putting smile, he looks angry…but also sad. Those eyes watch me with a haunted, empty stare.
Maybe he possesses a soul after all…one I shattered when I betrayed him.
Fuck.
I glance around, attempting to gain a better sense of time or location. “Where am I? How’s Danny?”
“You’re nowhere, Cat. Nowhere anyone’s going to find you. And never mind about your hitman.”
He’s right. I usually stay in the city during the week to prevent my father and Nino from noticing my absence. I often disappear from work for a few days at a time, and Curator Pruitt never says anything. He probably believes I’m dealing with my father’s doctor’s appointments.
I’m so screwed.
Connor kneels in front of me and pulls out a pair of scissors from behind his back.
Tears streak down my cheeks. I kick away from him and curl into myself, fear curdling my stomach and threatening to rise up my throat.
Connor clicks his tongue. “Behave, Cat.” He grabs a leg and stretches it out.
I shudder, too weak to extract myself. “What are you doing?” Bile burns the back of my mouth as he cuts my slacks off.
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. I was just trying to help my father.
” I’m crying openly now as Connor moves to the other pant leg and slides the scissors up to my waist, ripping through the material with ease.
He grabs the pants by the crotch and tears them out from under me.
I’m sitting on the floor of some warehouse in a place he’s called Nowhere in a pair of black cotton underwear, ankle boots, and a green button-down that I know will soon meet its death beneath his scissors.
What the hell is my life? Why is this happening to me?
We’re even, aren’t we? We both lied…
He stares at me, my ruined pants in his fists. “We’re going to play by my rules now. I don’t like yours. They almost got me killed. Twice.”
“I said I’m sorry!” My voice cracks.
“I heard you.” He does as I expected, opening the scissors and slicing up the middle of my shirt. Then he moves to each arm, shredding the blouse underneath my button-down as well.
When he rises to admire his work, I’m in a white bra and black underwear. Cold from the floor seeps into my thighs, and goosebumps erupt over my skin. The cement isn’t half as frigid as the look in Connor’s dark eyes, though.
I shudder, my chest heaving in my attempt to stop the bubbling panic, that tight, heavy ball threatening to drown me.
“I could forgive you. Maybe. If, and that’s a big, fat, girthy, pulsating if…” He kneels beside me, scissors in hand. “If we do things my way. And if I believe you’re truly sorry for undermining me. For lying to me. For attempting to kill me.” He exhales as he snips at my underwear.
“Connor. Please don’t do this.” I’m begging, and I don’t even care. At this point, I just want to survive the next few hours with all of me intact.
The cold blade burns my stomach before slicing my underwear in half and exposing me. My brain wants to scream until my vocal chords break, but some deep, dark part of my soul…enjoys this.
I don’t want to admit that traitorous truth, but being at his mercy, unable to move, to stop him…
Whatever comes next both intrigues and frightens me.
“Roll over.”
Relief floods me as I do. He can read me like no other, and this way, I can hide my face.
Connor cuts my underwear completely off, tosses the fabric to the side, and unhooks my bra.
I roll back over so I can witness his worst. This bra cost over a hundred bucks.
It’s no easy task finding comfortable support for someone as well-endowed as I am.
And it’s a stupid thought, the dumbest in the history of dumb thoughts when your life is on the line, but there it is, in my brain, all the same.
Of all things, I’m mad about the prospect of him ruining my bra.
He removes the final piece of my dignity by cutting through each strap and tossing it on top of the heap of shorn fabric.
After that, he walks away.
“Connor, come on.” I shiver on the freezing floor. “Don’t leave me like this!”
A minute later, the demon materializes from the shadows once more.
He’s carrying an unidentified object that sparkles under the buzzing overhead lights.
He tosses that object at my feet. “Put this on.” After vanishing into a shadow yet again, he reappears dragging a chair.
I ignore him. Not only because I can’t obey—my hands aren’t exactly in a position to grab clothes—but because now I’m just a day player in one of his sick fantasies. It’s one thing to be angry about what I did and want revenge.
But whatever this is terrifies me.
And arouses me.
Fuck my life.
“I said, put it on.”
I jiggle the chains, scraping them against the pole. “How do you expect me to do that?”
He returns and unlocks the restraints, removing them from each wrist. I’m exhausted and dehydrated. How long since I’ve last eaten? Even with clothes, I’m in no shape to run.
Just in case, he pulls a gun from his waistband and sits in that folding chair. “Put it on.”
Even if it’s humiliating, I’d rather be nude than do what he wants. I kick at the flimsy blue garment. Lace and ribbon tangle on my toes. It looks about as comfortable as chicken wire and probably won’t even fit.
Connor crosses his ankles and reclines in his chair. His finger rests on the trigger, while the barrel sits in his other hand. Waiting.
This asshole kidnapped me, stripped me down, and now he’s giving me the silent treatment?
The fear and arousal swirl into a brand-new rage that burns away the nausea and cold, leaving me hot and ready to claw his eyes out if he gets close enough.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” If he’s going to kill me, he should just do it already.
He doesn’t reply.
I try again. “And who made you this way?”
Connor puffs almost proudly, one of those thick eyebrows cocked. “My father.”
That’s a horrifying admission. My father’s the reason I got into swimming and art. Why I’m surviving life without a mother, and why I’m here right now. I was attempting to spare him from spending more days in jail.
By contrast, Connor’s father…molded him into a monster.
The realization sobers me.
What sort of life has this man led?
I guess Connor reads my horror because his eyes narrow, and he surges up from his chair, a vein pulsing in his neck.
The hair on my nape prickles.
This is angry Connor. Dangerous Connor.
He barrels toward me and grabs me by the hair, yanking my head back.
I cry out, more from surprise than pain. Though he tugs, the pull doesn’t hurt.
Connor gets into my face. “You’re disgusted? Repulsed? Wait until I kill Nino and then Eduardo and come back with their eyeballs.” He releases my hair and goes back to his bargain-basement throne. “Put it on, Caterina.”
I shudder as fear cools my anger once more.
I don’t want him to ever look at me like that again.
Fresh tears dampen my cheeks as I put one leg, then the other into the blue silky romper trimmed in black lace. Getting my breasts lassoed inside the bra top is no easy feat. These weren’t built for support, but I manage.
Once I’m finished, I stare down at myself.
Prickly lace aside, it’s decidedly better than being naked. He got my size right, which doesn’t surprise me as much as it should.
He motions with his gun. “Stand up.”
I do.
“Turn around.”
I guess this is where I pivot nice and slow. For my father’s and my brother’s sakes, I obey and spin in a leisurely circle until I’m facing him again.
“Okay.” He nods with finality. “Now, tell me the deals you struck with the Bratva. Everything you can remember about their planned attack on the Kings at the Blue Hook Port. Anything you think I need to know.”
Sucking in a breath, I whisper a mental apology to my father and then start to talk.