Twisted Obsession (Bound by Blood #2)

Prologue

Giovanna

Present Day

I tried to relax into the noises and smells I’d grown up with, and let their calming presence wash over me. I wasn’t sure why I’d felt so relaxed a second before, but was now consciously trying to slow my breathing and heartrate down. On my next inhale, I held my breath and counted to five, before letting it blow slowly through the small fissure my lips had created.

Letting my body sag slightly and concentrating within myself, I understood that the well-rehearsed measures I used to curb the panic attacks I’d spent most of my adolescence enduring, were beginning to show a result.

Again, I took in a deep lungful of air. Although the breath felt calming, I couldn’t find the aroma of sea kale, nor the strong salty taste I was searching for. But the wind was strong, I could hear the commotion it was making as it haphazardly flung itself around the sheltered area, so it had more than likely carried the recognisable aromas away.

Bovalino beach had become a firm favourite of mine nearly ten years before. When, as a child of eleven, I’d first crossed over the rocky ground of the cliffs that surrounded it and placed my white, T-bar sandals onto the soft, almost white sand. With my brothers flanking me, the baby of the family, we’d been introduced to the children of the Giordano family. There had been five of them altogether, but just the three of us in attendance and instinctively I’d felt Romeo and Gabriel bristle.

It hadn’t been an entirely blissful first meeting, unlike, I assumed, children from normal families would find an arranged playdate. Although I hadn’t really understood the dynamics of our families back then, I more than understood them now. Our two families, the De Lucas and the Giordanos, were steeped in tradition, religion, obedience and rules, and normal was probably the one thing we could never be accused of.

What I had found on that day, though, was an instant bond with the two girls in the Giordano family. Without speaking a word to each other, as we stood listening to our testosterone-filled brothers and I’d cast my eyes over their beautiful white dresses and sandals matching my own, I knew that I’d found comrades. Then, as their ribbons blew about wildly on the salty breeze and the action caused errant hairs to fall from their place, ruining their Sunday best, I realised they might even be much needed allies. How right I’d been. The three of us had become firm friends over the years as we approached womanhood and had begun to take our discerned places in amongst the male dominated world we’d been born into.

What I didn’t understand, when a fight had broken out between my brother Romeo and Alessio Giordano on that sunny afternoon away from our parents’ eyes, was the strange connection I’d felt to Dante Giordano, the youngest son, as his hand slipped into mine and his little sister Mia’s, to lead us away to safety.

Subsequently, as he’d turned to meet my questioning stare and his unusual aqua coloured eyes had found mine, it had started the preoccupation I knew I would always have toward the boy and the man he’d turned into.

It was as that memory garnered momentum in my mind, that I felt my heartrate accelerate once again. I exhaled faster than I would have liked had I been in control of myself, as I attempted to extinguish the recollection, and like I had over the past few years, push all thoughts of him away.

I took a moment to focus and appreciate the stormy skies I could sense I was captured in. The strength of the wind had very obviously increased. The force of its potency was sounding out louder in my ears and I relished the thought of having the beach to myself once the storm blew through. Knowing that, as we were in September, it would be short lived. The birds above me would be flying on the wind, catching the updrafts, and wheeling ever higher before plummeting as they played together. Inside my mind, I also felt like I was soaring with them. I wanted to turn around in a circle, with my arms outstretched as I absorbed the nature around me, but confusingly, I slowly became aware that I couldn’t.

Surprisingly, knowing the beach was private to the two of our families, I heard people speak to one side of me, and moved my head in the direction of the two voices.

‘…London.’ I knew the male voice I was straining to hear had said more, but all I caught was the one word.

What? I struggled with my confusion.

‘Time to make that call.’ A different male voice found my ears.

I turned my head sharply and after feeling a dull repetitive thud behind my eyes, I winced. Suddenly, I felt some of my long hair fall over my face and instinctively reached to move it, only to find that both of my arms were restricted. Concentrating hard, it was then that I understood they were captured by some sort of binding around my wrists and the pressure of seat arms underneath them.

Where am I?

Why am I sitting?

My eyes won’t open.

The beach I had conjured up in my mind dispersed and then vanished when I heard the voice again.

Trying as hard as I could, I still couldn’t keep up with the conversation I could now hear. But fear travelled through me when one sentence was spoken, and I understood it word for word.

‘I’ll keep Giovanna, until I’m satisfied my family is out of harm’s way.’

The conversation carried on for a while, then stopped abruptly, but in my head all I could make sense of was those few words.

I’d been taken. Was I the De Luca prize my brother had recently warned me about becoming?

Nausea and fear took hold of me.

‘What’s…’ The one word came out incoherently and I stopped trying to speak again instantly, when my tongue couldn’t formulate what I was trying to ask. Saliva embarrassingly dribbled from the corner of my mouth, and I flinched when someone else’s fingertip gently ran up my face, from my chin to the corner of my mouth, wiping it away.

‘Good… she’ll be awake by then.’ A strong, heavily accented, and masculine voice replied to some information imparted to him. When his intonation encapsulated me, and hints of sandalwood and fresh mint flooded my nostrils, I used any available senses to hone in on discovering what was happening to me, as I intuitively recognised whose company I was in.

Dante. I was mistaken. I’m with Dante.

My earlier fear left me, and I tried to smile at the thought, but for some reason couldn’t. Again, I tried to move against my binds.

I don’t understand.

I felt myself begin to shake my head at the realisation.

He wouldn’t have.

In that second, I understood that my ears had tricked me into thinking I was hearing the wind blowing up a storm, that I wouldn’t find the birds soaring up into the grey skies; all I’d be able to see would be blue, a crystal-clear blue. The same place I’d found my comfort over the previous few days.

Concentrating wholly on the one thing I had to do, my body finally complied with what I was asking of it, and my eyelids began to flicker as I forced them to part, and my sleep filled vision cleared.

The outline of the man I’d known for years, the childhood friend I bumped into every now and again at family functions. The same one who had befriended, romanced, and done so very much more with me over the previous few days, sluggishly revealed itself to me. His crisp white shirt and pale grey suit was the same as he’d worn to meet me in Naples.

We’d wanted to escape. My university in Bologna had seemed like the perfect place to run to. In my head, my childish reasoning had convinced me we could make it work, just for a few days. Then my romantic notions had told me that when we returned home, we would be looked at differently.

I don’t remember getting to Bologna.

What do I remember?

I’d fallen into Dante’s open arms at the café in Naples. I could recall the touch of his hand on my bare arm, the warmth of his embrace and the terms of endearment he’d whispered in my ear. It had all seemed so romantic, with the adrenalin still flowing through my body after making my escape from my own bodyguards.

But why hadn’t we reached Bologna?

London?

Dante had lied to me. Why?

Now, understanding the situation I was in, I was convinced it was as far away from romantic as I’d ever find.

What sort of fool are you?

I could hear Salvatore warning me not to leave our family home and I felt even more stupid.

‘Dante?’ My mouth allowed his name to be spoken with complete precision as I questioned him. I watched as a spark of amusement lit up his eyes and a smirk consumed his full lips.

Memories flicked quickly through my mind.

The terrace, in the rain.

The party.

Nonno’s speech.

My grandfather is dying.

My family.

The confessional.

The way Dante hadn’t let me out of his sight, even for a minute.

The last few days. The numerous phone calls to each other. The secret meetings. I’d told him my inner most thoughts. I’d told him of my pain, my exasperation and he’d encouraged my dependency on him.

Dante Giordano, the man who now encapsulated my dreams. Dante who had always been my obsession.

He’d dared to kiss me at my brother’s party. He’d pulled me into his arms and kissed me again in Naples and called me ‘amore mio’ his love.

My eyes flew open wider at the memory, and I went to raise a hand to touch my lips, where I could still feel him, and felt my restrictive binds all over again. As the smirk stretched wider across his face as he read all the unspoken thoughts in my mind, I pulled my eyes away and allowed them to fall to the white cable ties, which were now biting into the skin on my wrists as I fidgeted against the constraints.

Flying. I hate flying!

‘I told you… no. I hate flying.’ I shook my head at him.

‘You did. And as I told you…you don’t have to look down. I’m here now. I’ll always catch you.’

My stupid heart leapt at Dante’s statement.

I regret I won’t be there to watch you fly, but embrace the one who will be, the same one who will catch you when you fall. My grandfather’s voice replayed inside my head, and I fought to hold back my tears. I knew inside my heart that he wasn’t gone yet, but I missed him already.

I shook my head at Dante and fought against my restraints again.

‘Scissors,’ he demanded to someone else in the plane with us.

Marco, his best friend and righthand man, appeared in my peripheral view and I took a few seconds to glare at him, letting him know that he was also on my shitlist.

Turning my wrists this way and that, I watched as my pink skin turned redder, as blood rose to the surface.

‘Stop moving,’ Dante instructed.

My anger flared at the situation he’d placed me in. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that fighting would cause me pain and not him, but there was no way I was going to comply with his, my—what was he to me? My boyfriend? No, Dante had moved from that role and had become my kidnapper. There was no way I was going to comply with my kidnapper’s orders. I twisted my wrists some more and felt the sting as my skin broke open and blood appeared against the plastic.

Flashes of what had happened earlier that day rushed through my mind. The drive from home to Naples, on the very edge of my seat. Furtively looking in my mirrors for any sign of the men on my trail, and the constant state of my body being on edge as adrenalin flooded my system repeatedly. Dante’s voice in my ear telling me it would all be okay, and how it had felt as I’d abandoned my car and fled along the streets to find a cab and finally fallen into his awaiting arms.

What had happened after?

I remembered having a latte that he bought me in the coffee shop and as I’d sipped the slightly bitter tasting liquid, I couldn’t believe that he had listened to my every word and knew it was my coffee of choice.

It had been bitter. Too bitter. But I’d drunk it anyway, so grateful that for once someone had listened to me and my preferences.

He’d drugged me.

It all fell into place. It was all a lie. Was he the enemy? Was he the same as his eldest brother Zeno? Had he faked liking me to get me to succumb, to trick me into thinking he liked me too.

My insides sunk and hurt as the understanding that I’d possibly been used gripped me. Embarrassment coloured my cheeks when I thought about what I’d shared with him. But even worse, was being smacked in the face with my own stupidity. Finally feeling I might understand where I wanted to go with my life. Thinking, as I dreamt at night, that someone wanted me for myself and not who they could get close to. It had all been a lie, each kiss, his need to constantly hold my hand, and the way he touched me.

It had to be a plain and simple lie.

If it was, why had it all felt so very real?

‘I said stop fidgeting. You’re making yourself bleed,’ he instructed calmly.

‘You’ve kidnapped me.’ I waited for him to convince me otherwise. When his smile turned to a look of annoyance, I understood it wasn’t coming. ‘My blood is all on you, Giordano.’ I deliberately spat at him as I enunciated each word.

‘This isn’t kidnap, Giovanna. We talked about getting away.’ His laughter met my wrath. ‘When the fog clears inside your head, you’ll remember.’

‘I never agreed to London.’

‘You didn’t say no to London, either.’

‘I said no flying,’ I quickly retorted.

Anger swept me up at the situation I was in.

Moving my foot quickly, I lashed out and kicked out with one of the high heeled Manolo Blahniks I was wearing and caught him directly in the shinbone.

‘Fuck!’ he shouted out, as he recoiled in pain and for the first time since I’d come to, I felt the ghost of a smile brush over my lips at his obvious discomfort. Somewhere in the background I heard Marco try to stifle a laugh.

In pain, Dante dropped the scissors he’d been going to release me with to the floor, just as the plane started its descent into London’s City airport. Fear at our imminent landing rose up inside me, but I forced it away and concentrated on my situation. Leaning menacingly towards me, he shoved his hands roughly on top of my bare shins, forcing me to keep the only weapons I had, still. But even more worrying, was that after just a few seconds of being so close, his touch caused my body to react instinctively to him. I’d heard my older brothers talking a few years before, when they didn’t think I was listening in, about what a womaniser Dante had been since his early teens. So I understood, when he stilled suddenly and inhaled deeply, that he knew what effect he’d had on me. After deliberately underlining the fact that I was trapped and under his control, he moved his hands fast and quickly tightened up the seatbelt I was already wearing, causing me to gasp in reaction.

In response, I deliberately closed my eyes at his nearness.

‘That wasn’t nice… We wouldn’t want you to get hurt… would we?’ he whispered into my ear, just as I unleashed my other foot catching him directly in the middle of his other shin.

‘Bollocks.’ The single word left him through gritted teeth.

‘If only my legs were long enough to reach them!’ I snarled back at him.

Refusing to rub the pained leg, instead choosing to shrug his shoulders at me, I watched as he sat back on his seat and leant back into the luxurious, navy leather and replaced his seat belt.

When he lifted his gaze again, his piercing blue eyes found mine. Then as he perused me, his captive, I watched as his tongue played with his two front teeth as it always did when he was deep in thought and, like every other time I’d witnessed it, it held me spellbound.

‘Hello, my love.’ His English accent enthralled me as always, but it was the wink he offered me afterwards, I knew would be my downfall. ‘Welcome to England.’