Page 7 of Merciless Attraction

Chapter 3: Gemma

Gunshots are as common as fire drills in this life. It doesn’t happen often, but when you hear them, your muscles respond to memories rippling through every fiber of your body. I’m trembling as every bullet pierces the silent night in front of the clinic.

Antonio’s covering me with his arm, tugging me closer into him as if his body is bulletproof. As sexy as protecting me is, I can’t shake the rejection trickling through my thoughts. He doesn’t want me the way I want him. The way I’ve always wanted him.

I remember the day Antonio came to the house. The first day I saw him. He was disheveled and sporting a much thicker goatee making his face menacing, dark, with those eyebrows which made it hard not to stare at him.

My brothers and father are all dangerous men. They treat me like the princess, but Antonio wouldn’t even glance in my direction. Of course, he didn’t. Why would any man just released from prison pay attention to his best friend’s little sister?

Eight years after that fateful one-sided encounter, on the night of my graduation, he showed up with the outstanding news that he’d busted his ass to graduate from med school. He was moving back to New York and now that I was eighteen, I thought I stood a chance.

Still, Antonio didn’t pay me any mind. I’d flirt with him, and he’d give me a smile. A smile as if to say,aww she’s got a crush on me,but he wouldn’t bite.

Even to this day, when hehasto be my fiancé, he wants nothing to do with me. This is, and always has been, a one-sided crush. A crush from my childhood I should let go of, but how?

How am I supposed to stop fantasizing about a man who broke a door down to help me? To rescue me? To save me from Frankie? A scumbag who decided I needed to be some docile version of a woman partying in his nightclub.

Fuck Frankie. I hope Bash, Casper, and Damian gut him like a fucking fish.

But, Antonio?

Antonio has blood on his hands for me. He’s everything my mind’s painted him to be; living up to someone grander than the portrait of sexual desire hanging on the walls of my imagination.

However, the words that ring loudest are of Antonio telling Bash mere moments ago that he’d take his chances against Verducci rather than going along with this fake engagement. He doesn’t even want to pretend to love me.

The brief kiss to plant the seed of him being my fiancé lingers in my memory like a wet dream. A dream I’m dying to go back to because kissing the pavement right now has my adrenaline spiking through the roof. I wonder how Antonio feels about our kiss.

As the bullets ring out above us, I want him to keep me tucked into his side, protecting me from whoever followed us here. I wish I could shake the feeling that someone is watching me.

And then ... silence.

The shooting stops. I finally let my eyes open to see the pavement underneath us. The heaviness of Antonio’s arm across my back lightens.

“You got it?” Antonio shouts to my brothers, Bash and Casper.

Bash already has the trunk of his car open while Casper jumps into the driver’s seat. Bash shouts back to us. “Get out of here. We’ve got it under control. Fucking Verducci.”

I know how this story goes. My brothers will spend the rest of the night trying to catch the guy who just shot at us.

Antonio helps me to my feet and inspects me, tilting my head gently, and running his fingers through my hair. I lean into his touch, shifting my gaze to his face, where worry etches into his eyes.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

I shrug, a cloak of nonchalance settling over me. “Groggy more than anything, but no bullet holes.”

The crispness of the night air flowing through my nose helps ease my adrenaline as we walk toward the car.

“I’m going to hang behind here,” Ronan says, while tossing the keys to us.

“I don’t think that’s safe,” Antonio counters as he opens the door for me to get inside.

Ronan shrugs. “There are bullets and bullet holes in the walls of the clinic. My sisters will be here in a few hours, and I don’t want them to see it like this. If they do, they’ll call the cops and we know they will run through security footage from the clinic and surrounding areas. We don’t need that. Take her home. I’ll crash on the couch in Carmen’s office until the morning. You can come fetch me then.”

“Okay,” Antonio agrees and gets into the car.

The drive to his place is silent, but my mind shoots off one question after another. I can barely stand it. I open the window, catching the breeze from the waters of the bay. There’s a hint of hope the air will ease my mind, along with the high I’m coming down from, and the fear of being shot at.

“I don’t think Verducci was the one shooting at us just now.” Antonio’s voice is dark, contemplative, but his eyes stick to the road.

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