Page 32 of Ruthless Vow

Were the things he did to me, the glorious, dirty things he did to me just one more way to break me down?

The possibility makes my stomach churn.

Then I think of the hard press of his cock against me, and I know that I turned him on. I think of that unguarded second after it was over, when he lay me down, when he whispered, “Good girl,” the emotion in his voice. In that unguarded instant, therewassomething there. Wasn’t there?

I don’t get up. I stay right where I am. I don’t ask questions. I simply wait.

Luca grabs the armchair, drags it over to where I am, and takes a seat on it.

I look up at him from my cross-legged position on the floor.

“Got to say, you surprised me,” Luca says. “Never would have guessed you to be a snake in the grass.”

I say nothing.

“I’m good at figuring people out, too,” he continues. “So it’s, like, severely pissed me off that I didn’t see the signs. That’s kind of my job, you know, to get a read on people. So I have a theory when it comes to you. Either you are just that fucking good at being a coldblooded spy for whoever the fuck you’re working with. Or you are so over your head in all of this that you’re drowning right in front of me right now.” He tips his head and waits. When I offer no reply, he says, “Got anything to say to that?”

“No comment.”

His lips quirk at that but his eyes are cold. “Figured.”

“Did you come here today for a friendly chat, Luca, or do you have anything important to say to me? Because quite honestly? I’m not feeling very talkative at the moment.”

I don’t know how many days have passed since I was brought here. No windows. No watch. But judging by the number of times I’ve slept, the number of meal trays I’ve been brought, I’m guessing three days. Or maybe four?

Leo hasn’t been back since he left me lying naked on the bed. How many days ago was that?

Luca shakes his head. “Cold as ice. Goddamn. You don’t even look scared.”

“Should I be scared? Are you here to hurt me?” I don’t think he is. I’m fairly certain that Leo wants to deal with me personally.

“No comment,” he counters. “Okay, I’ll get right to it. I have two questions for you.”

“Questions Leo wants the answers to.”

“No. QuestionsIwant the answers to.”

I wait. I seem calm in every way except my racing heart. Part of me wants to start begging Luca for his help. We’ve gotten along, no conflict, for two years. I know he’s a stone-cold killer, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t without compassion. Again, I wish I were the flirty type, the kind of woman who could twist a man around her finger and get him to do her bidding with a coy look or a come-hither smile.

Hell. Even if I were, nothing about playing the part of damsel in distress appeals to me.

Luca studies me for a few moments in silence, peering at me as if he can figure out an ancient mystery. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”

Ah, the age-old question. I wonder if any of this would be different if I had pulled the trigger. Of course not. The rest of Leo’s family would have hunted me down and immediately torn me apart like hyenas. No question about it.

My ending would be the same either way. This version of the story has simply given me more time for self-reflection.

“I don’t know,” I say.

It’s not a satisfying answer for either of us. And it isn’t the truth. I didn’t shoot him because all along there has been a part of me that has doubted my aunt’s assertion that he planted the bomb that killed my father. As Leo pointed out, he prefers to dohis killing in a way that gets his hands dirty. He likes things up close and personal. A bomb is just not his style.

And because I couldn’t make myself kill him in front of the people who love him.

And because I don’t want Leo dead. The thought of killing him, of watching him die, of him being dead, gone from this world…

I swallow and look away from Luca’s too perceptive stare.

“Follow up to that, gorgeous. Why did you drug the rest of us peons?”

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