Chapter 7
HUDSON
She moves so fast that I barely register what’s happening. Before I can defend myself, surprisingly warm steel presses against my throat. I hold my breath as fury and incredulity flashes over me. I glance down, studying the hilt of a familiar knife. Shock joins my range of emotions when I realize that the knife is one of Eli’s. She fucking pickpocketed one of my men, the little troublemaker.
“You’re going to let me go,” she threatens. I’m a sick fuck because blood rushes south at the breathy tone in her voice. Pure, undiluted challenge swims in her ocean blue eyes, but all it’s doing is intriguing me further.
I lean into the knife and ask, “Or what?”
We continue to stare each other down, realizing that we just might be matched for stubbornness because neither one of us is willing to back down. Her chest is rising with each deep breath, and her eyes race between mine, trying to figure out just how far I’ll take this. All the way, love. In my peripheral, I see Crew and a few of my men arrive with guns raised.
They must have seen us on the camera feed. My men have access to all of the footage except for my bedroom. Only I have access to that, but there’s a clear shot down the hallway, putting our little altercation on full display. Pitty, because I’d like to see where this goes.
“Time is running out, pet. Tick Tock.”
Her eyes spark at my taunt, “Stop calling me that!” she yells and presses the steel harder against my throat, hard enough to break the skin. The distant sound of guns cocking fills the air, and Andrea tosses a wild glance at my men.
I take advantage of her distraction and effortlessly disarm her. It’s like taking sweet sweet candy from a baby. I twist her around until her back is pressed to my chest; I place the knife to her throat, although I have absolutely no intention of using it. I nod at my men to leave us alone, and they oblige.
“Walk,” I growl into her ear. No one threatens my life, draws fucking blood, and gets away with it. She shudders in my arms but obeys. “Good girl.” Before I can help myself, I rub the tip of my nose along the crook of her neck; her scent overwhelms me.
Goosebumps erupt all over her skin, and I don’t miss the reaction. Involuntary or not, she’s attracted to me. And I fully intend on using it to my advantage.
We shuffle into the bedroom. I spin her around to face the door, the knife still pressed to her throat. “Close it,” I order.
She hesitates, knowing that once that door is closed, she’s lost her chance at freedom. “That wasn’t a suggestion, pet. Close the fucking door.” I press the knife harder against her throat, careful not to draw blood; it would be a shame to mar her flawless skin. Certainly it’s more consideration than she gave me. Besides, there are other marks I can leave there, ones less permanent and much more satisfying.
She mutters angrily under her breath and slams the door shut. Then she does the unthinkable: she extends her head back against my chest, fully exposing the length of her elegant throat in provocation. The little daredevil is testing me, but she knows I won’t do it, which only enrages me. I am in control here, not her.
I take a moment to school my emotions, careful not to show my hand. I am the face of dominance, and this is my castle. She will bend to my will, even if I have to force her. She’ll come around, and she will stay.
“Good girl,” I murmur, pressing my lips to the side of her head. Once the lock mechanism is engaged, I let her go. She wastes no time running away from me. She spins around to face me, her eyes on fire as she glares.
“Why the fuck am I here? Do you know who I am?”
“I know you all too well, Millicent.” Her eyes flicker when I mention her middle name. That’s right. I know everything about you, pet. Yet, she continues to surprise me. “The question I have for you is: do you know the person called, La Fiamma.”
She frowns. “The flame? What does that have to do with why I’m here?” So she knows Italian, or the basics at least.
“It has everything to do with why you’re here, pet. Think harder.”
Her frown deepens. “I don’t know who that is, or who you are for that matter. You must have the wrong person.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” I don’t wait for her to answer before I continue. “Ezra Beaufort. I’m sure you know him.”
Emotion flickers across her face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared in an attempt to remain impassive. Too bad for her that I caught it. “Should I know who that is?” she asks gamely, and I chuckle.
“Come now, pet, stop insulting my intelligence.”
“I will when you stop calling me that,” Andrea growls, hand clenching into a fist I now know she can use. Clearly someone taught her how to fight. I don’t reply to her ridiculous demand. I’ll call her whatever I deem fit. Soon enough, she’ll answer to it too.
“What does Ezra have to do with anything?” she asks when I remain quiet.
“You see, he used to work for me.”
“Why would Ezra ever work for you? He’s busy enough running Beaufort Construction with Alex; it’s not like he’s desperate for cash.” Her eye roll confirms that she thinks I’m lying.
I sigh, “One thing you’ll learn about me, pet, is that I rarely lie.”
“But rarely isn’t the same as never right?” she accuses, latching on to the word.
“Semantics.” I wave my hand dismissively. “You’ll find that I rarely find myself in the position to lie for any reason.”
“But you’ll lie when the occasion calls for it? Is this supposed to persuade me to believe you?” She folds her arms over her chest. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s doing the opposite.”
Damn it, this conversation is derailing. “Anyway, your brother used to work for me. I have proof,” I add before she can argue further. I take my phone and find my photo album. I scroll down to a group photo with my men. Crew and E are on either side of me.
She immediately spots him. “What’s he wearing?” she mutters quietly then glances up at me. Her expression shows that she’s starting to realize that I’m telling the truth. “This doesn’t prove anything other than the fact that Ezra knows you and your…employees.”
“Doesn’t it?” I raise a mocking brow.
“He could have come here for a business meeting. Something. Anyway, get to the point you so desperately want to make. I don’t have time for theatrics.” She raises her chin to glare down at me. How she can do that when she’s all of five foot two baffles me, but I continue.
“That’s where you’re wrong, love. You’ve got all the time in the world.” I will the cold, unfeeling look of the Don I am to wash over my face. The look that I use to portray my utter authority to any and all who cross my path as Massimo Moratti, king of the Rhode Island mafia. She has the good sense to remain quiet. “The point I want to make as you so eloquently put it is that Ezra used to work for my organization under an alias: La Fiamma.”
“Okay, let’s say I believe you. So?”
My lips twitch, and I suppress the smile threatening to crack my facade, the little rebel. “So, he wanted to leave. Retire if you will. I let him go out of the benevolence of my heart under–”
She lets out a disbelieving scoff that I ignore. I continue, “I let him go under one condition.”
“That’s more like it. I knew there had to be strings attached.”
I shake my head at her insolence. “Have you ever heard of the Moratti family?”
She freezes, her eyes going wide with something like fear for the first time since I had kidnapped her. A bit of disappointment hits me as I tell her who I am. “I’m Massimo Moratti.”
She takes a step back, shaking her head slowly. Now she’s going to fear me and cower before me. That thought normally excites me, but with her, I can’t help the sense of loss; she’ll no longer dare challenge me, and I was so enjoying our battle of wills. But then she speaks, and a scowl paints the beautiful lines of her face. She looks at me in pure disgust.
“No. No way Ezra would have messed with the mafia…with a low life like you. He knows better than that. No way.”
The fear isn’t for herself, I realize, but for her brother. I watch her closely. So, she believes me about who I am? I decide to let the insult go and continue to stare her down, watching her eyes flicker around the room as she pieces things together.
“Just because we’re somewhere in Rhode Island and you seem to be rich and powerful doesn’t mean that you”re Massimo Moratti. You’re Hudson.” She nods once as if to reassure herself. That’s my girl. My lips twitch again.
“I’m not going to go back and forth about my identity. It’s your prerogative whether to believe me or not. But your brother used to work for me, and he wanted out. I’m sure you know well enough that there’s no getting out of the mafia.”
She shakes her head again.
“But I let him go,” I enunciate each word. “A month ago today in fact.”
“The night he got shot,” she whispers to herself, her eyes growing wide.
I nod and say, “Correct.” I can see the muscles of her throat working as she gulps. “You see, I might have considered simply letting him go given that he was more than just an employee to me, but it would set a terrible precedent. What if the other men decided they want to leave too? I can’t let that happen, of course. It would seem as if I were partial to him. It would undermine my reputation.”
“So you shot him to fake his death? He didn’t leave the organization. He died?”
See, this is why I like Andrea. She catches on quickly. Intelligence in a woman is sexy as hell. “Don’t forget the condition. I did let him go out of the kindness of my hear–”
“A condition,” she interrupts. “What condition?”
I finally let a smile creep across my face. “Your hand in marriage.”