Page 3 of Twisted Obsession

Flying. I hate flying!

‘I told you… no. I hate flying.’ I shook my head at him.

‘You did. And as I told you…you don’t have to look down. I’m here now. I’ll always catch you.’

My stupid heart leapt at Dante’s statement.

I regret I won’t be there to watch you fly, but embrace the one who will be, the same one who will catch you when you fall.My grandfather’s voice replayed inside my head, and I fought to hold back my tears. I knew inside my heart that he wasn’t gone yet, but I missed him already.

I shook my head at Dante and fought against my restraints again.

‘Scissors,’ he demanded to someone else in the plane with us.

Marco, his best friend and righthand man, appeared in my peripheral view and I took a few seconds to glare at him, letting him know that he was also on my shitlist.

Turning my wrists this way and that, I watched as my pink skin turned redder, as blood rose to the surface.

‘Stop moving,’ Dante instructed.

My anger flared at the situation he’d placed me in. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that fighting would cause me pain and not him, but there was no way I was going to comply with his, my—what was he to me? My boyfriend? No, Dante had moved from that role and had become my kidnapper. There was no way I was going to comply with my kidnapper’s orders. I twisted my wrists some more and felt the sting as my skin broke open and blood appeared against the plastic.

Flashes of what had happened earlier that day rushed through my mind. The drive from home to Naples, on the very edge of my seat. Furtively looking in my mirrors for any sign of the men on my trail, and the constant state of my body being on edge as adrenalin flooded my system repeatedly. Dante’s voice in my ear telling me it would all be okay, and how it had felt as I’d abandoned my car and fled along the streets to find a cab and finally fallen into his awaiting arms.

What had happened after?

I remembered having a latte that he bought me in the coffee shop and as I’d sipped the slightly bitter tasting liquid, I couldn’t believe that he had listened to my every word and knew it was my coffee of choice.

It had been bitter. Too bitter. But I’d drunk it anyway, so grateful that for once someone had listened to me and my preferences.

He’d drugged me.

It all fell into place. It was all a lie. Was he the enemy? Was he the same as his eldest brother Zeno? Had he faked liking me to get me to succumb, to trick me into thinking he liked me too.

My insides sunk and hurt as the understanding that I’d possibly been used gripped me. Embarrassment coloured my cheeks when I thought about what I’d shared with him. But even worse, was being smacked in the face with my own stupidity. Finally feeling I might understand where I wanted to go with my life. Thinking, as I dreamt at night, that someone wanted me for myself and not who they could get close to. It had all been a lie, each kiss, his need to constantly hold my hand, and the way he touched me.

It had to be a plain and simple lie.

If it was, why had it all felt so very real?

‘I said stop fidgeting. You’re making yourself bleed,’ he instructed calmly.

‘You’ve kidnapped me.’ I waited for him to convince me otherwise. When his smile turned to a look of annoyance, I understood it wasn’t coming. ‘My blood is all on you, Giordano.’ I deliberately spat at him as I enunciated each word.

‘This isn’t kidnap, Giovanna. We talked about getting away.’ His laughter met my wrath. ‘When the fog clears inside your head, you’ll remember.’

‘I never agreed to London.’

‘You didn’t say no to London, either.’

‘I said no flying,’ I quickly retorted.

Anger swept me up at the situation I was in.

Moving my foot quickly, I lashed out and kicked out with one of the high heeled Manolo Blahniks I was wearing and caught him directly in the shinbone.

‘Fuck!’ he shouted out, as he recoiled in pain and for the first time since I’d come to, I felt the ghost of a smile brush over my lips at his obvious discomfort. Somewhere in the background I heard Marco try to stifle a laugh.

In pain, Dante dropped the scissors he’d been going to release me with to the floor, just as the plane started its descent into London’s City airport. Fear at our imminent landing rose up inside me, but I forced it away and concentrated on my situation. Leaning menacingly towards me, he shoved his hands roughly on top of my bare shins, forcing me to keep the only weapons I had, still. But even more worrying, was that after just a few seconds of being so close, his touch caused my body to react instinctively to him. I’d heard my older brothers talking a few years before, when they didn’t think I was listening in, about what a womaniser Dante had been since his early teens. So I understood, when he stilled suddenly and inhaled deeply, that he knew what effect he’d had on me. After deliberately underlining the fact that I was trapped and under his control, hemoved his hands fast and quickly tightened up the seatbelt I was already wearing, causing me to gasp in reaction.

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