Chapter Twenty-Four Ella
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ella
Blondie doesn’t move.
For a second, I think he’s too shocked to react. Or too stupid.
His fingers stay right where they are.
The air turns thick. Heavy. Like the entire room is holding its breath.
Gualtiero’s eyes don’t leave where Blondie is still touching my elbow. Not even for a blink.
I pull free and step closer to him, placing a hand on his arm, trying to ground him. “Please, Gualtiero. Just leave it. Let’s go.”
Nothing.
He doesn’t even acknowledge me.
“Who told you to speak?” he says coldly. “Never tell me what to do, Ella.”
The words hit harder than a slap.
I flinch back, my hand dropping from his arm. For a second, I just stare at him, my mouth open. The sting of his words spreads through my chest.
Blondie finally snaps out of it.
“Hey,” he says, his voice raised. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
I blink. That… I didn’t expect. Maybe he isn’t a complete idiot after all.
It happens so fast I almost miss it.
One second Blondie is standing there, the next, Gualtiero has him by the throat.
His hand clamps down hard, fingers digging in as he lifts him clean off the ground as if he weighs nothing.
Blondie’s feet kick out, his hands clawing at Gualtiero’s wrist, his face already turning red. A choked, strangled sound tears out of him.
Oh my god. This isn’t posturing.
He’s going to kill him.
“Gualtiero, let go of him!” I gasp, stepping forward, grabbing at his arm. “You’re hurting him!”
Nothing.
It’s like I’m not even there.
“Gualtiero, stop!” My voice rises, sharper now, panic breaking through. “He didn’t do anything. Let him go.”
Blondie’s movements are getting weaker. His eyes roll slightly, his grip slipping.
Shit.
“Alonso,” Gualtiero says, his tone ice-cold, completely detached, “take Ella to my office. I’ll deal with her later.”
Deal with me later?
What the hell does that mean?
“Gualtiero—”
Alonso’s hand clamps around my arm before I can say another word. He pulls me back firmly while Oriana closes in on my other side.
Of course she’d enjoy this.
I dig my heels in for half a second, trying to look past them, but Gualtiero doesn’t even glance at me.
All his focus is on Blondie.
We’re moving before I can process anything else.
We cut through the upper level, toward a walled-off section at the back of the horseshoe. I have to hurry to keep up, my pulse hammering, anger and adrenaline crashing together in my chest.
“Alonso, let go of my arm,” I snap, twisting slightly, ready to fight him if I have to.
He doesn’t loosen his grip. Doesn’t even look at me.
We reach a door, and Oriana pushes it open. Alonso pulls me inside without breaking stride.
He releases me with a short shake of his head.
“This wasn’t your smartest move,” he mutters, already turning away.
The door closes again, sealing me in.
I stand there for a second, my arm tingling where he held me, my heart still racing too fast.
Then I pace the small room, a storm of conflicting emotions crashing through me. I don’t know which one to grab onto first.
Hot anger wins.
No one has ever spoken to me like Gualtiero did. Ever.
Like I was nothing. Like I didn’t get a say. But that’s hardly new. What I want matters little in Gualtiero’s world.
He takes what he wants without asking and expects obedience without resistance.
My hands curl into fists. Good luck with that.
My defiance surges up, fierce and unrelenting. I won’t be pushed aside. Unless he plans on killing me, he’s going to have to deal with me speaking my mind.
Then the next emotion cuts in.
Fear.
Not for me. For Blondie.
My stomach twists.
He had no idea what he was walking into. No idea that flirting with the wrong woman could cost him his life. If he makes it out of here alive, he’ll never make that mistake again.
Oh please, God… let him make it out of here alive.
I don’t want his death on my conscience.
How did Gualtiero even see him touch me? It all escalated so fast.
And then… Fear for myself creeps in next.
I shake out my hands, everything inside me feeling too tight.
Gualtiero nearly lost control earlier. The way he snapped. The way something in him almost gave way.
A shiver runs through me.
What will happen when he walks through that door?
I will deal with her later.
The words echo in my head, sending a fresh wave of anger and unease crashing through me.
God, I hope he’s calmed down.
Now I understand why he’s so feared. It’s not just what he does.
It’s what he might do and the unpredictability of it.
Time stretches.
It feels like forever, but it can’t have been more than a few minutes since I was shoved into this room.
What’s taking so long?
Where is he?
Is he disposing of a body?
No.
I shut that thought down immediately.
Don’t even go there.
The room suddenly feels smaller.
There are no windows. Just dim lighting from a few lamps, casting soft shadows across the space. Low armchairs sit around a cluster of coffee tables in the center, untouched, unused.
A desk stands off to one side.
And on it…
A large monitor.
I step closer.
Live security feeds flicker across the screen.
Ah, that’s how Gualtiero knew.
My stomach sinks.
I really am being watched all the time.
How does anyone live like this?
I lean in slightly, scanning the different camera angles, hoping to catch a glimpse of what’s happening outside. Maybe even find something useful.
An opening. A weakness. Anything that might help me get away.
But who am I kidding?
With Alonso and Oriana standing right outside that door, I’m not getting anywhere.
One of the feeds switches.
There they are.
Exactly where I expected them to be. Right outside this door. They don’t talk or move.
God, that must be the most boring job in the world.
Then the image shifts again, and my breath gets stuck in my lungs.
Gualtiero.
He’s walking straight toward the door.
And he still looks furious.
I draw in a deep breath, bracing myself.
Shit. Shit. Shit.