Chapter 43
Samantha
The sleek black limo is waiting in the dark.
As I approach on trembling legs, a man in a suit opens the back door.
I briefly glance at his face to see if he’ll help me, but his deadly glare tells me all I need to know.
I throw the bag on the floor and then slide inside and sit down, a tight grip on my daughter.
As the door is slammed behind me, I freeze.
Michael is here. He’s in an impeccably tailored black suit, his manicured hand cradling a crystal glass of what I can only assume is his favorite bourbon. His expression is one of triumph. But his eyes… they are so dark as they hold mine, so void of human emotion, a shudder ripples through me.
It all comes back. It all becomes real again.
“I thought you were smarter than this, Samantha.” He lets his gaze fall to Rona, who’s instinctively quiet, leaning against my chest, sucking her thumb.
He takes a sip from his glass, his eyes still locked on Rona.
He’s not looking at her as a father admiring a daughter he hasn’t seen in seven months.
He sees her only as a pawn. His attention is a threat.
I want to scratch those eyes from his skull, but I know better than to react. I keep my wild rage in check and pull her tighter against me.
He notices the small act of protection and a satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He gets off on my distress. He’s a monster.
I let the numbness wash over me. Let the fight go.
I won’t give him the satisfaction of my fear.
I close my eyes and rest my chin on Rona’s head, stroking her back.
I can only hope that he’ll keep me in Tampa for a few days, until Killian returns.
Maybe with Sandro’s army at his back, he can find us. Rescue us.
I hold onto that thought until I feel the limo stop and the driver get out.
The man once again opens the door. My hope grows wings and flies from my body as I stare at the private plane waiting to take us back to New York.