Page 23 of Wicked Games of Desire

“What’s the problem?” Alessandro demands, and my ears prick up. I’m surprised he’s letting them talk in front of me. It’s all been so hush, hush around me till now.

“Damo found a couple of those missing Lamborghinis, on fire in a parking lot downtown,” Maddox explains, a sense of urgency in his tone. Is this what they killed my family over, something to do with the luxury cars my papa sold? It could have been why they were meeting up with his old associate here tonight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls out, and I can see the tension rolling through his body, his fists clenching at his sides. He’s furious.

Maddox lights up a smoke, blowing a puff through the air. “Nope, we need to get down there before the cops show up.”

Alessandro’s attention comes back to me, a hand running through his day-old stubble. He’s trying to decide how to handle me, I can tell. “I can come with you,” I offer. This all sounds a lot more exciting than being trapped in that room back at their place.

His eyes grow darker, if that’s even possible. “Not a fucking chance,” Alessandro and Maddox say in unison.

I pout, disappointed. I want to know what’s going on. And in the chaos, I might just be able to slip away into the night, never to be seenagain. Except after what just happened between me and Alessandro, I kind of want to stick around and find out what he was about to tell me.

“Ricky, take her home,” he demands, giving me one last long, lingering look. Then he’s gone, rushing out the door, with Maddox close behind.

Ricky moves toward me, a sinister smirk playing on his lips. “Anyone would think you like being locked up, baby doll.” He undoes the handcuffs, his hand lingering on my wrist longer than it needs to. “Don’t know where Maddox got these from, but they might come in handy later.” He laughs playfully, pocketing them in his suit pants, along with the key.

“He said he has a fuck-buddy who’s a cop. She gave them to him,” I explain what he told me earlier.

Ricky gives me a funny look.

“Yeah, I thought he was full of shit as well. Who would fuck him?” I agree with a shrug, rubbing life back into the wrist and hand that was tied up. I have blisters from the way it was rubbing from Alessandro’s hold on me.

Ricky smirks at my joke.

“I just figured you lot keep this shit handy. You know, for locking up all your prisoners.”

“You’re the only prisoner we’ve ever had, but I like to think of myself as more your bodyguard. It’s just sometimes you need saving from yourself.” He takes my hand protectively, lacing his fingers with mine. “You’re not going to run away from me, are you?” He looks more serious. Like Alessandro did when he asked why I keep running from them, and I wonder why they care so much.

I meet his stern expression, considering it, but I don’t get quite the same urge to flee Ricky as Maddox. “Not tonight,” I tell him honestly.I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to tell the others, but my leg is killing me.

Not letting go of my hand, he pulls me close by his side, like he doesn’t believe me, and we walk back through the club quickly. To anyone else we would just look like a couple on a night out. My body relaxes into his, finding comfort in the warmth of his chest. There is a tenderness in the way this man takes care of me that makes me feel secure with him. Even with all the shit going on around us.

Finding the back entrance where he parked his G-Wagon earlier, we hop in, and he secures my door, pressing the child lock so I can’t make a run for it. He doesn’t trust me for a second, and he shouldn’t.

The drive back to the boys’ mansion, my prison, is short, and I make sure to note the security system on the front entry of the gate, as well as what guards are standing by. This place is locked up tight, with more security than they had at the club. “What are you boys involved in?” I ask, motioning to all the guards, knowing it’s some serious shit. You wouldn’t need this much security otherwise. Yeah, his papa is like a gazillionaire, but he’s not. And these guards aren’t here to keep me locked in.

He tilts his head, studying me. “You’ve never heard the name Moretti thrown around before?”

I shake my head. Should I know the name? “It’s Alex’s surname, and I know his papa owns the casino, has a shit ton of money. But that doesn’t explain the security.”

“It’s all our last name, but that’s not what makes it important. You really are a sheltered little princess.” His words, filled with pity, disgust me. I don’t want his pity.

“I’m sheltered because I was shipped off to boarding school for most of my life. I only came back home for a couple of weeks a year,” I say almost to myself, now thinking my papa didn’t send me awaybecause he couldn’t cope with a little girl alone after my mother died. More likely that he was involved in something shifty, and he was trying to protect me or just trying to keep me out of it. Either way, I can’t help but think keeping me sheltered is why my life is so chaotic right now. If I knew how dangerous these guys were, I never would have followed them back to that cave. I would have gotten out of town when I had the chance and never looked back.

He glances my way before killing the engine now that we’re safely in the garage, but he doesn’t give me any more information either. He makes his way around to my side of the car and helps me out since I was locked in.

“Why do you and Alessandro call me princess? Nothing about me gives off princess vibes.” I glance at my dress; well, maybe the attire, but that wasn’t my choosing.

His look says if I don’t know why, he will not enlighten me.

I follow him through the back door, my mind racing. I have so many questions I don’t know where to start. “Are you guys brothers?” I ask, aiming for something he might answer. They all look different, but he said they have the same surname.

“Not in the blood-relative sense, but we grew up together, and after my mother died, Alex’s parents, the Morettis, raised both me and Maddox.”

An ache forms in my chest hearing his pain when he utters the words. “You lost your mother when you were young?”

He nods, a sadness washing over him. I can see it still affects him now, even as an adult, but of course it does. There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think about my mother, and I was only a little girl when she passed away.

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