"No arguments there," I snicker through the ball of emotion in my throat.
"Guess that’s one more thing we agree on."
He walks out onto the landing, glances around, then continues down the dilapidated steps toward his Jaguar, parked outside.
A couple of boys in hoodies mill around nearby. I take in the house next door—paint peeling, garbage cans over-filled, with trash on the pavement outside. Across from us, there’s a boarded-up store. The other houses on the street seem as deserted. The electronic lock beeps, then he opens the door on the passenger side and places me in it. "Buckle up."
He leans back, shuts the door, and walks around. One of the boys stops him. They speak, then he pulls out his wallet, pulls out a few notes, and hands them over. He reaches into another pocket to pull out a card. He slips that to the second boy and they fist bump. In seconds, he’s in the driver’s seat, and starts the car.
"What was that about?" I ask, as he eases the cars from the curb. The boys step back, watch us as we pull away.
"Told them to call me if they see anyone coming in or out of the house."
"How did you find me?"
He pulls out his phone and hands it to me, then focuses on the road ahead.
I read the text. "Who sent it, you think?"
"Antonio?" he growls.
"Perhaps." I lean my head back into the seat. "It’s confusing. Why would he ask you to call off those following him, then kidnap me, only to send you my whereabouts? And how did you know exactly where to look?"
His jaw tics. "When we were abducted, that’s the house where we were held. I should have bought it and torn it down a long time ago. Guess none of us wanted anything to do with it. After that incident, we simply wanted to put it behind us and move on." His knuckles turn white.
"Saint," I turn to him, "Why...would he send you to the same place?"
"A warning about what would happen if I screwed with the Mafia?" He growls, "He has no idea how personal he's made this. No way, am I letting him go without having my vengeance. He dared touch you, Gigi. He's going to pay for it."
His harsh tone slices down my spine, my nipples bead, and lust curls in my belly. Hell, hearing him all worked up on my behalf is way too much of a turn on to resist.
The phone in my hand—his phone—pings again. I stiffen and my heart begins to thud. I glance down at the screen.
"What does it say?"
I wet my lips. Read, and re-read the message.
"Aloud, Gigi."
Maybe it's the fact that he uses my nickname, or the way his voice stretches with tension, or the command in his tone that whips across my skin and makes my pussy clench. Shit, I want every dirty thing he can do to me again. Is this any way for a pregnant woman to be thinking? Is it the hormones? The fact that I am carrying his baby, that’s making me so aware of his nearness.
His voice lowers to a hush, "Don’t keep me waiting." That dominant edge of his intent slices through my barriers, reducing me to a trembling mess inside.
I swallow, then scan the words again, "You found her. Don’t let her go."
"What?" he snaps.
"That’s it." I dig my heels into the floor, "That’s all it says."
He stops at a traffic light, then snatches the phone from me. He scans the screen again, then swears under his breath, "The hell does that mean?"
I twist my fingers in my lap, "Apparently, Antonio has a conscience after all."
"What do you mean?" The signal turns green, he presses down on the accelerator, and the car leaps forward. My breath catches; my heart thuds in my chest.
"Sorry," he mutters. "It’s just— I don’t get it. Did he stage this, to get us to speak again?"
"Seems that way," I huff. "He was never an easy man to comprehend."
"Don’t talk about him."
A warm sensation blooms my chest, "You jealous?"
He laughs, the sound bitter, "My wife has a history with another man, a past I don’t know anything about. What do you think?"
"I was a virgin."
His knuckles on the wheel tighten. "There are other ways to have a relationship, other than a physical one."
"And you think that’s what I had with Antonio?"
"You tell me."
"He was my contact with the Mafia. He's the one who negotiated a deal with them to ensure Nina's release—in return for getting him the USB with the video clip of you being held in that room."
He makes a noise deep in his throat.
I glance sideways at him, "I’m sorry, Saint."
"For what?"
"For giving the media a chance to tear down your reputation."
"I don’t give a fuck about that."
"And your company, the losses it suffered because of the ensuing media uproar?"
"I managed to shut down most of the journalists who were there that day."
"How?" I turn to him, "Of course, you paid them to stay quiet."
"Just when you think money doesn’t buy everything… It surprises you with how much it does help."
"So, I guess you survived that unscathed then."
"Except for the fact that my wife betrayed me, and handed over the most important piece of evidence of what had turned my life upside down."
I wince, bunching fingers into fists.
"You could have simply asked me. I’d have given the USB to you."
I swing around to face him, "You would have done that?"
"Maybe," he raises a shoulder. "Of course, I’d have extracted my punishment for it."
My toes curl.
"And you’d have loved every minute of it."
His lips twist in that smirk that’s hot and mean, and seems to promise more of all the filthy things that he'd ever done to me.
I fold my hands in my lap, "I’m not coming to your hotel."
"I’m not allowing you to return to that apartment."
"You know where…?" I straighten, "Of course, you do. I’m surprised you don’t own the
