“Where is home?” she asks, not bothering to look at me.
I take a sip of my drink.
Her head slowly turns to finally look me in the eyes. Her porcelain face is tight, nose scrunched, eyes looking smaller by the second as she glares at me. I half expect her to throw the ice pack at my face. And that turns me on.
Fight me, beautiful.
She sighs heavily, making her chest rise and fall with irritation. “Is it in another country?”
“Does it matter?” I finally ask.
“Yes,” she hisses, slamming the ice pack to her lap. “You’re kidnapping me.”
I bite back a smile. “Honey, I paid for you.”
That just seems to enrage her more. She starts speaking a different language. “Excuse me?”
Her words cut off, and she takes in a deep breath, the action making her chest rise again, and this time, I allow myself to watch the way her breasts bounce from the motion, making my cock hard.
“I called you a pompous, self-absorbed son of a bitch,” she clarifies with a bite and adds, “in Italian.”
I take a drink from my glass and smile behind it. She’s exactly what I expected a female Bianchi to be—fucking fire.
My cell rings, and I pull it out of my pocket to see it’s Luca. “Hello?”
“So it went well?” he rushes out. “You’ve got Mia?”
“Yes,” I say, taking another drink.
He lets out a long breath. “Thanks, Bones.” The sound of appreciation in his voice makes my chest tighten. Why has he kept her a secret all these years? Where the hell has she been? If he cared so much, why did he allow this? Between him and the Kings, we could have protected her. He has to know that we would have done whatever he needed for her. All he had to do was ask. We protect our own. I consider Luca a brother.
I look up at her to see her beautiful eyes already on mine. The soft glow of the purple lights makes them look exotic—like a rare diamond. A look of concern covers her pretty, bruised face. The ice pack is now on the floor—long forgotten.
“You saved her,” he whispers, then clears his throat. “But you do whatever you have to do. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” I acknowledge him, and her eyes go wide. Her mind thinks the worst possibilities of who I’m talking to and what I’m agreeing to do regarding her.
I’m not her ally. I need her afraid of me. I need her to want to run away from me. She needs to fear for her life. I have to be exactly like the monsters that put her in this situation in the first place.
“Call me when it’s done.” Luca hangs up.
Locking my cell, I place it next to me where my jacket lies and order, “Come here.”
She swallows nervously, and I can hear her breathing pick up. Her eyes dart to the seat next to me. My legs fall open. “Come here.” I point at the floor between them. I don’t want her ass beside me. I want her kneeling between my feet. I’m going to treat her how she expects to be treated—if I was a man buying a woman to use.
“I …”
“You don’t want me to come get you,” I warn, undoing my tie and ripping it from my collar before throwing it too on the seat and undoing the top button on my shirt, needing to be more comfortable. The air in here is too hot, suffocating.
She must see the warning written on my face because she drops to her knees and slowly makes her way across the floor in her evening gown. She stops too far away from me. I reach out, grab her hair, and yank her the rest of the way. She cries out when I bring her face to mine. Her hands go to my thighs, gripping my slacks. She’s panting. Those big silvery-blue eyes are large. A set of red-painted, plump lips parted. Her chest rises fast with each new breath she takes. I let my eyes drop to her cleavage and lick my lips, giving her a clear sign of what I’m thinking about.
“Please …” she begs softly.
My eyes look up at hers. “What happened to that fuck-you mentality? Give up that easily?” I arch a brow.
She licks her lips nervously, but it just makes me hard imagining throwing her to the floor right here and fucking her. I bet she’s not even a virgin. Who still is at twenty these days? Especially in a family like the Bianchis. Her father probably sold her to the highest bidder when she was twelve. That’s how those sick fuckers work.
“You’re very beautiful,” I say honestly. No reason to lie to her. She won’t remember much when she wakes up tomorrow anyway. I grip her hair tighter.