Chapter 36
OLIVIA
It was my second visit to Vitale’s villa.
The sprawling mansion was located on the outskirts of Rome, with manicured lawns and gardens, and a view of the basilica in Vatican City.
The blue dome loomed in the distance, and even though I wasn’t Catholic, I’d give anything to be there now with the tourists.
Instead, Carlo grabbed the links of my metal handcuffs and pulled me stumbling along inside the house.
As elegant and refined as the villa appeared on the outside, the interior was a masterpiece.
The carved marble staircase was smooth as glass and seamless, and meticulous woodworking framed hand-painted murals on the walls of the entry.
The cuffs dug into my skin as I was tugged into Vitale’s office.
I’d stood here less than two months ago and accepted the captain position, wanting to believe his money came from something benign like investments or banking, and knew I was being foolish.
The office was a bit over the top. Rich golds and reds accenting dark oak. The velvet curtains were closed, stifling back the fading sunlight. The closest neighbors were too far away, but this ensured no one would see what was happening now.
Vitale’s desk didn’t have a computer on it, like the desk was more for show, rather than function. This intimidating office was used to let the guests know who was in charge, and Vitale sat on his leather chair like it was a throne.
Carlo went to stand beside him while Gio dropped onto the plush couch, pointing at the spot beside him. He wordlessly demanded I sit there.
“I’m glad to see you alive,” Carlo translated for Vitale.
“Are you?” I kept my head held high and my shoulders back as I lowered onto the couch, trying to keep my distance.
Vitale looked pleased. “Of course.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stay rational and quiet.
“I think you’ll be useful,” Carlo continued.
I’d bitten too hard, and the blood seemed to be everywhere in my mouth, clinging to my teeth, and it did nothing to help my sour stomach. “Useful how?”
“You have information about the man we know as Nathan. If you share that information, I don’t see a reason why we can’t let you live.”
My laugh was deep and bitter. There was no way that was going to happen. “Yeah, I’m going to have to decline your generous offer.”
A faint smile curled the edge of Carlo’s mouth like this was the answer he hoped for, and he continued to translate for his boss. “That’s disappointing, but I’m a patient and optimistic man. Giovanni will take the remainder of the day to try to motivate you to reconsider.”
I filled my lungs with air until my whole body felt full of something other than immobilizing rage.
Escape. That was what I needed to focus on. Not the way Carlo’s eyes burned with malice. Although the desire to retreat into myself was strong, I held it back. There was pain in my immediate future, broken bones and other, darker things.
“You might break this body,” I said to the men in the room, every word burning in my throat more than the last, “but you won’t break me.”
It was like I’d just told him he’d won ten million euros. “I suspect you won’t break easily, no. It would be a shame if you did.”
I shivered as Vitale rose from his seat and pulled the vest of his impeccable suit down, smoothing a hand over it. He said something to Gio that Carlo didn’t translate, and then he was gone, the office doors shut behind him.
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved he’d left. His son was not intelligent, but he was impulsive. Still, Vitale’s professional and calculating demeanor scared me even more.
Gio ran a finger down my arm, and I flinched, which he found amusing. He gestured to the built-in bar with hanging wine glasses and several bottles of red angled on a stand. “Go to the bar and pour a glass of wine.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“It’s not for you.”
The logical side of my brain warned me against it, but the plan was already half-formed, so it was too late. I stood and stalked toward the bar, using my handcuffed hands to pull down a large glass by the stem. My heart beat faster as I prepared myself.
I slammed it against the edge of the counter, and the bell of the glass shattered into several large shards. One was sharp on my fingers when I gripped it, whirling to lunge at Gio—
There was an unfamiliar sliding and snapping sound, then pain so intense on my shin it reverberated up my body and made me cry out.
Instant tears sprang into my eyes. Carlo held a black rod, the kind police used for riot control, and in my hands .
. . there was nothing. The crack of his switch against my bone had made me drop the shard and clutch the nearby counter to keep from going down.
“Pour a glass of wine,” Carlo repeated Gio’s command.
I hissed my breath through my teeth, my leg throbbing, and the pain made me shake uncontrollably. It hurt too fucking much to try it again.
“Andiamo,” Gio barked. Hurry up.
The glasses rattled as my trembling hand closed on another and pulled it down. My gaze moved slowly to the wine selection. The bottle in front was half empty, a cork jutting out of the top, but the other bottles were unopened. “I need a corkscrew.”
“You will use the bottle that’s already open.”
It was a longshot that they’d hand me a weapon, but I had to try. The handcuffs made the task difficult to remove the cork, but it came free with a soft thump, and I poured it into the glass until it was a third of the way full.
“Bring it to me.”
Gio studied me intently, telling me this was a test. Do as he asked and I’d begin to bend to his will, or stand my ground and take my first beating.
I limped toward Gio, my heart in my throat, but I tried to keep the worst of my pain from my face. His too-white smile beamed up at me, and it died when I cleared my throat and spit in the glass, offering it to him.
He snarled something at me. “Drink it.”
“No.”
A knife came from Gio’s pocket. “Drink it, or I’ll cut you open and pour it in.”
Survive, the voice in my head whispered. The wine was dry and buttery. I gagged as it slid down my throat and had to look away when I saw Gio’s victorious expression.
“Pour a glass of wine.”
I exhaled in frustration and limped back to the bar, setting the glass down on the counter.
Was this his way of convincing me to talk?
To get me drunk? He hadn’t even asked a question about Ethan yet.
The muscles in my arms tightened, steeling myself for what was coming, whatever reward I was going to earn for my next action.
I pushed the open bottle off the counter, and it broke on the hardwood, splattering wine everywhere.
“I need a corkscrew,” I said, defiant.
Searing pain ripped across the backs of my thighs as Carlo drove the rod against my flesh, and I cried out, my vision blurred with sudden tears. Make the throbbing stop, my brain screamed on repeat.
“You are a stubborn bitch, aren’t you?”
I was still facing the bar, my tear-filled gaze turned away from Gio, and I tried to blink them back. I wiped at my face, my handcuffs rattling. “Guilty as charged.”
“Clean that up.”
There was a dishtowel folded, probably for polishing the glasses, and I dropped it into the puddle on the floor, watching it soak up the red wine, hypnotized.
“All you have to do is start talking and this will go away.”
My mind began to work over the pain again, and I considered shifting tactics. Fighting back wasn’t working, but it was my first instinct. “I don’t have anything to say.”
He smiled, and I wanted to vomit. “Come sit beside me.”
I couldn’t endure another crack of the rod so soon. The lingering sting from the last was still too brutal, so I reluctantly did as asked, sitting beside him on my tender legs.
“You look ridiculous wearing clothing really meant for a man,” Carlo said, spitting out Gio’s words with exactly the same inflection. “They will come off, and I think I’ll enjoy fucking you for quite a while.”
I leapt to my feet, overwhelmed by the urge to run. But all Carlo had to do was hold up the baton and it froze me in place. Only my chest rose and fell with my hurried, panicked breath.
Behind me, Gio rose from the couch. I kept myself still while his arms closed tight around me and pulled me up against him, his chest pushing against my back.
“Yes. Be an obedient little bitch and I might even let you enjoy it.”
Never in a million fucking years.
He’d been a fool to get this close, though, and I reacted purely on instinct.
My foot came down hard on his, followed by a satisfying elbow to his face. He reared back and howled in pain.
I’d moved fast, but I was outnumbered. The bite of the rod against my shin made me unable to flee. I couldn’t do anything but try to breathe.
This time his hands were rough on my body, and I closed my eyes. The tall, dangerous man who lurked in my mind gave me comfort while Gio’s hands found my breasts. I needed Ethan. Not just physically anymore, but on a scary new level.
To keep me going.
This was so unfair. The Abramos were going to kill me when I was just starting to feel alive again.
Harsh hands stripped the red scarf from my neck, but I stayed quiet. Outsmarting Gio shouldn’t be impossible, and he and Carlo probably had one brain cell between the two of them.
You need to be smarter, Olivia.
It took every ounce of strength not to fight when fingers began to undo the buttons of my shirt. My eyes snapped open when Gio’s hands were suddenly gone and he straightened away from me.
The office door was open, and Vitale stood in the doorway conversing with his son, but his eyes were fixed on me. I’d rather see my death coming to prepare myself, so my focus turned to Carlo.
“What are they saying?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer.
Vitale stepped back to wave someone in, and then an impossibly tall, intense man in a suit came through the doorway, his hands bound in plastic.