Page 38 of Contracted

“Serafino won’t go near the Irish territory, not even for his favorite whore. As for the O’Malleys, I’ve delivered what—who—they wanted, and they’ll generously reward me for it.”

“They’ll kill you for your trouble,” I gritted. “Then they’ll kill me.”

If they didn’t rape and torture me first. I shuddered, fear knotting my stomach as gorge rose in my throat.

Jarrod chuckled. “I’ve given them my loyalty and they’ll honor that. As for you, I’m sorry to say you’re just another innocent victim. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

He wasn’t going to listen to reason. Fine. I’d at least try to get some answers from him. “Why do the Irish mafia want me? I’m nothing to them. Nobody.”

“That’s true. You’re nothing more than Serafino’s whore. But even a blind man could see he cares about you. It’s what makes this so...delightful. He’s never cared about a woman until now. Soon enough he’ll know what it feels like to lose someone special in his life.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Serafino doesn’t care about me. If I died it’d be no skin off his nose, he’d replace me with someone else.”

I didn’t believe that, not deep in my bones, he did care about me to a certain extent. But he didn’t love me, he was incapable of that. The only people he truly loved were his family.

Would he miss me when I was dead and buried? Or would I be nothing more than a vague glimmer in his dark past? The idea made my breath catch, pain ripping through me like hot shards.

Jarrod shrugged. “Either way, I’ll get what I want.”

The driver slowed the car, then turned into a narrow laneway.

My hands fisted. “I don’t suppose it matters to you that I’ll die a horrific death.”

“We all die one day,” he said without a trace of remorse. “Some of us just die sooner rather than later.”

If I’d ever wondered if Serafino had a conscience, I knew now that he did. He had it in spades compared to the monster beside me.

A few rays of afternoon sunlight managed to splash between two buildings and glint on the mesh gate ahead. It was slid open by an armed man in a dark suit, his hat shadowing his face.

The driver then edged the car forward through a makeshift lane, where shipping containers and machinery sat either side in macabre display, dirt and garbage built-up against metal and tires.

“Where are we?” I asked, my stomach crawling as though I had bugs digging and scratching inside it.

The driver looked into the rearview mirror. “Most of our hostages call this place hell, you can call it whatever you wish.”

“Hell it is,” I whispered.

Chapter Twenty

Serafino

“Delilah!” I barked into the phone, but all I heard was what sounded like the dull throb of an engine and a low chuckle.

“Fuck!”

“What is it?”

“I looked up at Ethan’s shocked query, my eyes clashing with his before I glanced around the sitting room where my other brothers stood watching me with their drinks in hand, their brows furrowed and their stares narrowed and assessing. Valentino and Carlo were the only ones who looked calm and composed.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d forgotten I wasn’t alone. I’d always been the I couldn’t give a fuck guy, not this rollercoaster of emotions man who couldn’t contain his grief.

I was only glad Isabella and Salvatore were absent and in their own wing of the house—the one they claimed when they weren’t at the Costa house—along with Sabrina who was in the nursery with her son. I presumed Chantilly was in the nursery too, she’d become good friends with Sabrina and loved helping out with Pietro. I didn’t want to frighten them more than they already were with the supposed attack waiting to happen.

I grabbed a fistful of my hair, growling low in my throat as I explained hoarsely, “Delilah has been taken.”

Ethan sucked a breath through his teeth. “You’re sure?”

“Never surer. Our fucking casino director is a traitor.”

---