“The way we left things…” I stared down at my hands folded on my lap and sighed. “Luca makes my head spin.”
Marcello scratched the corner of his jaw, eyeing me up. “Are you mad he wouldn’t fuck you?”
“No,” I snapped. “I just thought… Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” I shot up from the chair, the legs scraping across the pavers. “He always does this. Anytime we get close, he pushes me away.”
“My brother hates intimacy,” he said in a cold tone. “I wouldn’t expect much from him. He’s incapable of giving you what you want.”
“Then why should I marry him?” I moved between his spread thighs and bent down until our lips almost touched. “Why should I marry any of you? All of you treat me like shit. Like a pawn in some sick and twisted game.”
He pushed me onto his lap. “You’re not a pawn, Alex.” His long fingers brushed my cheek, a soft touch that almost seemed unnatural for someone like Marcello. “You areourend game.”
I swatted his hand away from my face. “Because you need me. Not because you care about me.”
“That’s not true,” he challenged, and his words sounded sincere. “I’ve spent years watching over you, making sure you have everything you need. So have my brothers. Our methods may be unconventional, but we would do anything for you.” He rose from the chair, holding me in his arms as he set my feet on the ground. “And we’re not letting you go.”
Maybe the Salvatore boys weren’t so bad after all. If Marcello’s confession even closely mirrored the feelings of his brothers, it was worth getting to know each of them better. To give them a chance. I was a long way from choosing one of them as my husband. But I would let each of them convince me.
“I need to use the ladies’ room before we go,” I told him.
He grabbed my ass as I walked away from our table and headed inside. I strolled through a crowded dining room packed with dozens of people. At the end of a long hallway, I stepped into the women’s restroom and went about my business.
I washed my hands, then fixed my hair in the mirror. Of course, my curls were all over the place and frizzing. That was the problem with being this close to the bay. Running my fingers through my curls, I did my best to untangle them and tucked the long strands behind my ears.
When I exited the bathroom, a tall man with dark hair propped himself up against the wall, his eyes meeting mine. He wore a leather jacket with the collar raised and smelled of cigarettes. I turned to the left, and he grabbed hold of my arm. His fingers dug into my skin and yanked me backward.
“Let go of me!” I screamed, elbowing him in the chest.
His grip loosened just enough for me to kick him in the balls and bolt down the hallway. I was going in the opposite direction from where Marcello waited for me. But with this jerk on my tail, I didn’t have many options.
I ran through the kitchen’s double doors, hoping one of them would hit him in the face on the backswing. His pace didn’t falter. A man I’d never seen in my life dodged the kitchen staff, yelling for them to move.
“Get out of my kitchen,” a man wearing a chef’s hat shouted.
That earned him an elbow to the face. He fell to the greasy tiled floor like a sack of bricks. I kept going, apologizing to the people I passed and pushed my way out of the side entrance.
Outside, men lifted boxes from the back of a food truck.
“Help me,” I screamed and pointed over my shoulder at the man who was seconds from reaching me. “He’s trying to kill me.”
One man narrowed his eyes at me, confused by the sight playing out before him. This was an upscale restaurant. I doubted shit like this happened that often in Beacon Bay. We were on the side of town closest to Devil’s Creek, where most of the wealthiest people in Connecticut owned private residences.
No one bothered to help me. With Marcello on the opposite side of the restaurant, I had no way to reach him. No purse. No phone. I didn’t think I would need it.
“Marcello,” I yelled as my feet pounded the pavement. “Marcello, help me!”
For my sake, I hoped he could hear me.
The small town had a lot of narrow streets and alleyways that would make it easier to lose this asshole. At the very least, I could ditch him at Finnegan’s Rock. A spot at the edge of the woods that connected to the beach right below the Salvatore Estate.
They had guards that manned the edge of the cliff. If I could get back to the estate, I could get some fucking help. So I hauled ass toward the woods, running as fast as my heels would allow. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, propelling me to keep going, even though my lungs felt as if they were ready to give out.
Tires screeched behind me.
I didn’t bother to look over my shoulder.
Once in the woods, I bolted down a walking path that veered to the right and followed it until I reached a dead end. A chill from the bay rolled over the land. Fallen branches snapped beneath my shoes. I did my best to follow the marked path, which led to the beach.
To lose this asshole, I turned off the main hiking trail. He only had to follow the posted signs to figure out where I was going. So I hid behind a tree and hunched low to the ground, using the tall grass to shield my body.