Page 14 of Wicked Games of Desire

Chapter 9

As Ricky changes thebandage on my wound, I bury my face in my pillow to hide how badly the sharp intense burning sensation affects me. Thanks to Maddox dumping me in the shower and drowning me in cold water, it was wet all the way through. The man’s an obnoxious asshole. I think I despise him even more than Ricky, and it’s his fault I got shot.

“There you go. You’ll be back to normal in no time,” Ricky says, fixing the bandage back in place then cradling me in his arms as he assists me up to sitting.

I gaze up at him, feeling lost. He’s so confusing. Compassionate and nurturing about tending to my injury, but heartless when it comes to having me locked up against my will. He smiles back at me, his boyish dimples showing. He’s young for a doctor; he couldn’t have been out of medical school for long.

“I’ll show you how to use the crutches, so you don’t have to hobble around holding on to walls. This place is pretty big.” He grips my hand while sliding his thumb back and forth. It’s comforting when I feelso alone, and as much as I put on a brave act with these guys, I’m shitting myself.

“Thank you.” I offer a half smile back, grateful for his kindness in taking care of me, even if I know it’s mostly out of guilt. I can see it in his eyes that he’s blaming himself for what happened to me. Every worried glance he runs over me, every inch of kindness is laced with guilt. I wonder how a hardened criminal like him can afford a conscience.

Maddox taps his watch, getting our attention, and I glare at him. What is the rush?

Ricky tries to help me up to standing, but I need some distance from him. He’s all flirty tonight, and this connection between us is getting stranger by the second.

“I’ve got it,” I say, taking the crutches, holding them under my arms. Maddox’s snippy attitude has snapped me back to reality. Ricky isn’t sweet. He’s a fucking asshole just like his friend. It would do me good to remember just that.

They unlock the door, and I follow them out. Passing by a long hallway, there are other doors, and I wonder if they sleep down at this end of the house as well. Or is this where they hold all their prisoners? We take an elevator down to the floor below. A fucking elevator! Not to say I’m not grateful in my current condition, but even my father’s house didn’t have something so extravagant. How massive is this place?

Thick tension swirls in the air between us. Ricky gives Maddox a look I don’t like, something passing between them. The thought of what I’m about to walk in on makes my stomach churn uncomfortably. From what I have been able to work out in my short time here, these two both answer to this guy Alex, so he must be like the boss or something. Even more reason to notwant to meet him.

The doors ping open, and I’m greeted with the aroma of fresh buttery garlic and herbs.

I hobble out behind them into a vast space that looks a lot like a living room. A massive one. There’s a coffee-colored leather sofa in the center of the room and a fireplace on the opposite wall, a full kitchen off to one side with at least an eight-seater dining table.

My heart constricts when I see who’s sitting at the head of the table, dressed in a dark well-tailored suit and a menacing smirk that sets off a mix of fear and disbelief flooding my veins.

It couldn’t be.

I stand frozen to the spot, while the others glance back at me, confused. What is Alessandro Moretti doing here? He was a close friend of my father’s. And…I feel my heart racing like never before. He’s not only that but my first boyfriend, if you could call what we had a relationship.

A lump gets caught in my throat, and I gulp it down, trying to get a grip on reality, but the walls feel like they’re caving in. It’s been two years since I last saw him, and things didn’t end well. Panicked, I glance toward Ricky, searching his pretty-boy face for answers. Did he know who Alessandro was to me?

“Do you need a hand?” he asks, looking concerned.

“No,” I mutter shakily, not sure what to do. I want to run. Run like hell, but in my current condition, I can’t.

“Please join us, princess,” Alessandro says, more of a demand than a suggestion, and I know for sure it’s him. That’s his deep, commanding voice, the one that used to set my insides alight. And his nickname for me.

He was my dirty little secret. My papa thought I was a good girl, still innocent, but Alessandro stole my heart and claimed my body one night right under my father’s very roof. I knew it was wrong—he waseleven years older than me—but I didn’t care. He was charming in a dark and dangerous kind of way, and he was gorgeous. I could stare into his deep brown eyes for days. Not only that but he was rich as fuck; his family also owned one of the biggest casinos this side of the world.

His dark gaze fixates on me, his handsome face contorting in irritation as he runs a hand through his stubble, and I know I need to get moving. Alessandro’s not messing around. There was always an edge to him, something rough and a little wicked that lured me to him in the first place, but not like this. Now I can see he’s harder.

I put one crutch forward and pull my other leg through, moving cautiously toward the table set with our dinner. The other two take their seats, leaving me a spot next to Alessandro, across from Maddox and beside Ricky. Dinner in a prison, with three monstrous men. Who all look like walking wet dreams. Just my dumb luck.

I attempt to sit gracefully with my injured thigh. With them all so close by, I’m sure they can hear the erratic hammering of my heart. I’m speechless, sitting quietly and fixating on the fragile fine china before me. Because looking at any of them, especially the man at the end of the table, terrifies me. What is he doing here? Or better yet, why am I here with him?

“It’s a pleasure to have you join us, princess.” His voice is cool and holds the charm of a man who knows me intimately.

I tilt my head upward and lock eyes with him. The instant I do, I wish I didn’t. I’m immediately sucked into his magnetic vortex, intense chemistry disorienting my senses. How is it possible that I haven’t seen him in years, yet I still have the desire to sit on his lap and ride his cock like the good girl I always was for him?

His lips quiver with the hint of a smile, as if he’s struggling to suppress it. He’s pleased to see me, but there is a don’t-fuck-with-meedge to his demeanor that I don’t like. Maybe it’s a front for the other boys, or maybe this is just the way he is now.

The nickname takes me back to our first night together and a rush of wetness dampens my panties at the memory. It was my father’s fifty-fifth birthday, and Alessandro had spent the night flirting with me. He couldn’t wait for my papa to be distracted so we could sneak up to my room while he was entertaining his friends from his luxury car showroom.

Alessandro was obsessed with my red hair from the moment he laid eyes on it. I can still feel the intense pull of his fist wrapped around my ponytail as he kissed me savagely, like he would die if he didn’t get to taste my lips.

I glance up at him through dark lashes, my whole body overheating. I’m sure my cheeks are as red as tomatoes already. Was that his intention? By the intense expression on his face, I know it was. His eyes dance down my body with a heat I remember all too well.

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