Page 4 of The Brat's Bargain

A strong arm wrapped around Antonio's waist, hauling him upright. He stumbled, legs barely supporting his weight, as he was half-dragged towards the exit. The acrid sting of gunpowder filled his nostrils, mingling with the coppery tang of blood.

"Move, you idiot," a low voice growled in his ear. "Unless you'd like to take a bullet."

Antonio's addled brain finally caught up with the situation. He was being rescued. Or possibly kidnapped again. At this point, he wasn't sure which was worse.

They burst out into the cool night air, the sounds of the firefight fading behind them. Antonio's mysterious savior shoved him none too gently into the back of a waiting car before sliding in beside him.

As the vehicle peeled away from the curb with a squeal of tires, Antonio finally got a good look at the man who'd pulled him from the fray. His breath caught in his throat.

Damien Benedetti. The underboss of the Benedetti crime family and quite possibly the most dangerous man in Chicago.

Damien's ice-blue eyes raked over Antonio's battered form, his expression unreadable. "You look like shit, Lombardi."

Antonio barked out a laugh that quickly turned into a pained groan. "Yeah, well, not all of us can pull off the dashing rescuer look quite like you, Benedetti."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Damien's lips. "Mouthy little brat, aren't you? I can see why Rizzo wanted to beat that smart tongue right out of your pretty head."

Heat flooded Antonio's cheeks at the casual compliment. He blamed it on the adrenaline still coursing through his system. "Not that I'm not grateful for the save, but why the hell are you involved in this mess?"

Damien's gaze sharpened, pinning Antonio in place. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in keeping you alive and out of Rizzo's hands. For now, at least."

A shiver ran down Antonio's spine that had nothing to do with his injuries. There was something predatory in Damien's eyes, a hunger that both terrified and thrilled him.

"So what now?" Antonio asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "You gonna take me home to Mommy? I'm sure she'll be thrilled to add 'rescued by Benedettis' to my long list of fuck-ups."

Damien's laugh was a low, dangerous rumble. "Oh no, sweetheart. You're not going anywhere near your family. Not until we've had a chance to... discuss your current predicament."

Antonio's stomach dropped. Of course. There was always a catch.

"What kind of discussion?" he asked warily.

Damien's smile was all teeth. "The kind where I make you an offer you can't refuse."

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence. Antonio's mind raced, trying to figure out what game Damien was playing. The Benedettis and Lombardis had been locked in a cold war for years. Why would Damien risk open conflict by snatching Vivian Lombardi's son right out from under Rizzo's nose?

Finally, the car rolled to a stop outside a towering skyscraper. Antonio's breath caught as he realized where they were. Benedetti Tower. The heart of Damien's criminal empire.

"Come on, princess," Damien said, opening the door. "Time to face the music."

Antonio bristled at the nickname but bit back a retort. He was in no position to be mouthing off, no matter how much he wanted to wipe that smug smirk off Damien's stupidly handsome face.

They rode up to the penthouse in silence, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. When the elevator doors slid open, Antonio's jaw dropped.

The space before him was the epitome of modern luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Chicago skyline. Sleek leather furniture and gleaming chrome accents created an atmosphere of understated opulence.

"Impressed?" Damien's voice was a low purr in Antonio's ear, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

"It'll do, I suppose," Antonio replied, aiming for nonchalance despite the way his heart raced. "Though I have to say, I expected more gold toilets and tiger-skin rugs from a mob boss."

Damien chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "I'll keep that in mind for the next remodel. Now, why don't you have a seat? We have much to discuss."

Antonio sank into one of the plush leather armchairs, wincing as his battered body protested the movement. Damien busied himself at a well-stocked bar, returning moments later with two tumblers of amber liquid.

"Drink," he ordered, pressing one into Antonio's hand. "It'll help with the pain."

Antonio took a cautious sip, the burn of expensive whiskey sliding down his throat. "So," he said, meeting Damien's piercing gaze. "What's this offer I supposedly can't refuse?"

Damien settled into the chair across from him, legs spread in a casual display of dominance that made Antonio's mouth go dry.

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