Then again, there was a time when she’d have said the same thing about herself.
“I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth now,” he murmured.
As he spoke, his breath skimmed warmly against her cheek and along the side of her neck. She shivered from the sensation, astonished to realize how deeply he affected her, even after all this time.
Because, yes, she did know that low, velvet voice.
Just as she knew the scent that enveloped her as she stood immobilized in his arms. Heaven help her, but she had carried the scent of him, the sound of his voice, in a private corner of her heart since she was a teenage girl.
“Don’t be afraid, Bella. I didn’t come here to harm you. Nod your head if you understand.”
She nodded, and his grip on her relaxed. His palm fell away from her lips, leaving a coldness in its wake. Arabella slowly turned around in his slack hold.
“Oh, my God.” The words leaked out of her on a disbelieving sigh. “Ettore.”
Even though she thought she was prepared to see him again now, her first glimpse of Ettore Selvaggio standing mere inches away from her was a complete shock to her system.
She brought her fingers to her lips, her fear replaced by an overwhelming feeling of incredulity…and confusion.
Although she knew his voice and scent, she barely recognized the hard, disapproving face that stared back at her.
A black knit skullcap covered the loose golden waves that would have framed his lean, angled cheeks and firm, square jaw. While she knew that when he smiled there were dimples on either side of his lush mouth, right now his sculpted lips were held in a grim, unforgiving line. His hazel eyes were intense, his brows lowering as he pinned her in a measuring stare that felt as dangerous and unyielding as his hold on her a moment ago.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered on a sharp exhalation. His expression hardened even more. “It really is you, Arabella. I had to be sure. I didn’t want to believe it.”
She frowned. He sounded as surprised to see her as she was to be looking at him.
It had been ten years since they last saw each other. Ten years since he crushed her heart and walked away, never to return. Now, here he stood, dressed like a nightmare in black combat gear and staring at her in accusation, as if she were the one to blame.
His gaze seared her, making her feel cold and exposed in the curve-hugging red silk dress Massioni insisted she wear tonight. She knew what she must look like, what Ettore must think.
As much as everything inside her urged her to explain, she had bigger things to worry about than his opinion of her now.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? How did you get in here?” She couldn’t hide the shock in her voice, or her dread. If Massioni or any of his guards discovered Ettore inside the villa, they would kill him. And Bella didn’t doubt for a second that she would be made to suffer too. “Are you insane? Get out of here now, Ettore. You have no idea how dangerous it is for you to be here.”
He gave her a smile that chilled. “I’m not the one in danger. Your lover and his cronies are. I’ve rigged this place to blow sky-high as soon as I hit the detonator in my pocket.”
Oh, God. She swallowed, stricken to hear him admit what she’d already guessed. He was here to kill Vito Massioni.
And she could not let that happen.
Because if Massioni died, he had promised that she and her remaining family would die too.
A muffled rumble of laughter carried from the salon downstairs. Massioni and his guests would be growing restless soon. She’d already been gone too long. She couldn’t risk anyone coming to look for her.
No more than she could risk allowing Ettore the chance to carry out what he’d come here tonight to do.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, shaking her head as she took a step away from him. “I’m sorry… Ettore, I have no choice.”
Before he could stop her—before he probably even guessed what she was about to do—Bella screamed at the top of her lungs.
Chapter 3