Page 25 of Not Mine to Keep

Thankful that was over quickly, I returned the window and blinds back in place and faced the room.

“I need to gag and tie him up,” Alessandro said, and I whirled around. He was looking at me as if asking where I kept the duct tape and rope. “I’d torture him myself, but I’ll wind up killing him.”

Yeah, that I believe.

“I’ll leave it to Armani’s people to do,” he added before I answered his unspoken question.

“The garage should have what you need.”Thankfully, it’s attached.

Alessandro hooked his arm under the guard’s and dragged him up to his feet. “Stay put,” he warned me before leaving.

Noticing the floor lamp on its side, I fixed it upright, then looked around in search of my phone. I’d forgotten to take it on my walk with Alessandro showing up as scheduled earlier.

Finding it still attached to the charger but on the floor by the bed, I crouched and grabbed it. It was still on silent mode, so I flipped on the volume.

Five missed calls from The Asshole. Plus two texts from him as well.

THE ASSHOLE:I know what happened and that you’re okay. Answer your fucking phone. You need to come home. Now.

Italy would never be my home, and I hated that man for ruining such a beautiful country for me.

THE ASSHOLE:You’re still in danger. I don’t know who betrayed me yet. You can’t stay there any longer. You have no choice but to become who you were meant to be. A DiMaggio.

I searched for the emotions I wassupposedto have. Trying to locate the fear. Trying to remember the girl my aunt raised and not the DiMaggio trying to break free from the confines of this shell of a body.

I wasn’t him. I wasn’t evil.

At the realization I was no longer alone, with no clue how much time had passed, I looked over to see Alessandro filling the doorway, quietly observing me with folded arms and a sexy lean to complete the dominating look.

“That was fast.”

Narrowed eyes skated over my body, and the heat in his gaze now matched whatever fire he’d just lit inside me with one simple look. “If I had stayed around him any longer, I’d remember what he wanted to do with your pillow.”

Why’d I get the feeling he would’ve enjoyed killing the man?Maybe you would.

“I need to let Gabriel know the situation.” He shoved away from the doorframe and headed for the bathroom, giving me a chance to check out his strong back and muscular calves.

“Armani called,” I said once he returned to the bedroom, holding his phone. “I didn’t answer. But looks like Gabriel already told him about the attack in the park.”

“According to Gabriel’s last text,” he said while typing, “he’s at least convinced Armani to allow me to escort you to Italy. And Armani doesn’t have many options, considering one of his loyal men betrayed him.” He stopped texting and looked up at me. “Plus, I’m a Costa, and even though my family doesn’t exactly play well with the mafia, or any criminal for that matter, he knows I’d never hurt you.”

I strode closer to him as he chucked his phone on my bed and started for his suitcase. “Except Gabriel?” I reminded him. “You’re playing nice with him.”

“That’s different. A debt owed. And for a criminal, he’s—”

“Hard to hate?”

He took one knee by his bag and unzipped it, tossing a look at me from over his shoulder. “So he has that effect on you, too?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “The only one of Armani’s men who doesn’t make my skin crawl. Kind eyes, and his wife has always been really nice to me.” A few more chance steps his way as he rose to his full height. Quite the wardrobe change.

He threw the pants, shirt, and suit jacket onto the bed, and the pile landed atop his phone. “Some people are born bad.” With his strong hands resting on his hips above that towel, eyes on the floor, he added, “Not Gabriel. He had a good heart. Was taken down the wrong path and got lost. It’s my fault. We lost touch in high school, and he joined DiMaggio’s organization shortly after that.”

“You can’t blame yourself. But maybe this is your chance to help him find his way back to the right side?”

He whipped his focus up, looking at me as if I’d asked him to bring back the dead instead.

When he remained quiet, I walked over to him, my eyes now glued south of his navel. I’d swear his dick was beginning to pitch the towel. Of course, I had to go and blurt, “Does fighting turn you on?”Eyes back up,I reminded myself, only to wish I hadn’t looked up. The intensity greeting me in his gaze sent me back a step.

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