Page 63 of His to Hold

Max immediately obeys Paolo’s command, grabbing my shoulders and getting me back onto my knees. Paolo holds out a cellphone to me. “Call Antonio.”

I hold my hands up, and he shakes his head. I guess they’re not going to untie me. With a bit of struggle, I take the phone and stare at the home screen.

“Can you get his number for me?”

Paolo frowns. “Don’t you know it?”

“Who knows phone numbers by heart?” I try to suppress a sly grin as I realize something. Only the chosen few get Antonio’s direct line. “Don’t you have his number?”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

He looks at Gianni, who shrugs. “I report to Dante.”

“Oh, no.” I can’t keep the amusement out of my voice. “Not the Dante you left unconscious when you ran his car off the road?”

“You smug little bitch!” Gianni slaps me across the face again, but this time I manage to stay upright.

“Get her out of my sight,” Paolo tells Max. “But don’t touch her until Antonio gets here. I want him to witness us beating the defiance out of her.”

Max grabs me and hauls me to my feet. I wince as his fingers bruise my upper arms, but I don’t protest. It would probably amuse this asshole to know he’s hurting me. I let him drag me from the room and upstairs. Behind us, I can hear Paolo and his son bickering about their next move.

There’s an unpleasant tang of blood in my mouth, but that last slap was worth it because I learned a couple of things about these men. The first is that Gianni is the overly emotional type. He acts without thinking. A man so easily triggered is bound to make mistakes. The second thing I learned is that they’re winging it. I thought forcing Dante’s car off the road was part of a carefully drawn-up plan. Now I’m certain it isn’t.

They’ve already made stupid errors. They brought me to a place that’s unfamiliar with no clue their every move is probably being watched. I mean, they just accepted it when I said there was no alarm. That’s beyond careless.

They also have no idea how to get in touch with Antonio to lure him here. I can think of a dozen different ways to get a message to my husband, but I’m not about to share them. Right now, Paolo and his son are in panic mode. I know they’ll figure out eventually that there are ways to reach Antonio, but the longer it takes them to get their heads straight, the better. Their haplessness buys some time for Antonio to get here and save the day. Assuming, of course, I’m right that the security system here is still active, and he knows where I am.

Max opens the first door we come to. It leads to a guest bedroom. He pushes me inside. He sits me on the edge of the bed then goes to the window. Apparently satisfied it’s not a potential escape route, he grunts and moves off into the bathroom. He emerges a moment later with a pair of nail scissors. Waving them in front of me, he grins as if he’s just confiscated a prize from me. I guess someone with the right skills could use them as a weapon, but I wouldn’t have been able to do much damage with them.

He walks from the room and I breathe a sigh of relief, but he’s back a moment later. My heart thumps furiously as he unbuckles his belt and slides it from the loops of his jeans. Paolo told him not to hurt me, but that might not stop him.

I shriek as he grabs my bound wrists and forces my arms up over my head, dragging me toward the top of the bed. He loops the belt through the rope binding my wrists and then uses the long leather strap to tie me to the headboard. A couple of tugs convince him it’s secure.

“You can’t leave me like this!” I protest as he heads for the door. “What if I need to pee?”

He shrugs. “Then pee.”

Chuckling at his own assholery, he walks out, closing the door behind him. Immediately, I set to work on trying to free myself. I rub the rope against the edge of the leather belt but can’t get the right amount of friction going to cut through. I change tactics and try to wriggle my wrists out of the rope, but it’s too tight. Giving up on that because I’m hurting myself, I grab the belt with both hands and try to pull it free from the headboard. That doesn’t work and I can’t risk wearing myself out, so I give up for now.

I close my eyes and consider what will happen when Paolo gets hold of my husband. Surely he won’t come here alone. He’ll have an army at his back. Will they storm in guns blazing, or take out my captors by stealth? The longer I lie there, the more doubt creeps into my mind. What if Antonio doesn’t come for me? He was sending me away when Dante and I were ambushed. He might not want to rescue me. No, scrub that thought. He said he loved me. Aargh! This situation is messing with my mind.

My eyes spring open suddenly as a strange roaring sound fills the air. It takes me a minute to realize it’s a helicopter. It’s not unusual to hear them overhead as the coastguard employs them in search and rescue efforts out at sea. This sounds incredibly close, though. When the entire house begins to shake and the windows rattle, my pulse kicks up a notch. Is the helicopter coming in to land?

The bedroom door flies open, and Max runs into the room, gun in hand.

“Your fucking husband’s here.” He loosens the belt and pulls me up from the bed. “Let’s go.”

As he pulls me along the corridor, I hear gunfire. I don’t know what weapons the Mancinis brought with them, but it sounds like war has broken out there. Then, suddenly, everything goes quiet.

“Bella?” Antonio roars.

Max slaps a hand over my mouth before I can answer. He bands an arm around my shoulders, using me as a shield. We reach the top of the stairs just as Antonio appears at the bottom. He holds his hand up as if telling someone else to stay back. Max lifts the gun to my forehead as Antonio raises his weapon.

“Drop it or I’ll kill her.”

Antonio doesn’t waver. “Then what?” His calm is impressive. It keeps me from freaking out. “You’re not walking out of here.”

“You’d let me shoot your wife?” Max challenges him. “I don’t think so.”

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