Page 28 of Shark Bait

“Alessio,” I repeat. “Alessio Angelini. Nice combination of first and last names. How about you, Shark? You wanna tell me yours?”

I don’t expect him to say anything since he hasn’t yet, but I also don’t expect him to palm the back of my neck while looking at Capital, who’s following the gesture, reading it for what it is. A possessive claim.

“You can call me whatever you want, Troy.”

“Except Daddy,” I correct him since I remembered he didn’t care for that nickname.

A nod confirms it.

Alessio leans back, seemingly finished with observing us. It feels like Shark asserted his dominance while I’m over here trying to adapt to whatever this new environment needs of me so that I and my baby can survive it. These two men, without a doubt, are far more powerful than the ones who held me before.

One is wealthy beyond my comprehension, and the other is a professional killer.

“Where are we going?” I cringe at the demand in my voice and correct immediately. “If you don’t mind me asking.” I fist my hands in my lap.

Fis would’ve backhanded me for asking this question. I know because I asked it once. After sporting a bruise for a week, I never asked again and never asked where we were sailing to. Since Italy was the last place I was on shore, when I woke up on a yacht, I thought I was on the Mediterranean. It was only when Shark mentioned the Euxine Sea that I knew approximately where I was.

Kidnappers don’t share their location with captives. Fis feared I’d communicate with someone and tell them where I was. Kidnappers like to keep you ignorant, confused, and scared. Always scared. That way, you’ll do whatever they want.

“Ask away,” Alessio says. “We’re going home.”

Shark, a quiet, solid presence, looking around us and not at us, snaps his head toward Alessio as if Alessio said something unusual. Alessio locks eyes with Shark, and Shark’s jaw moves in a way that makes me think he’s grinding his teeth, suppressing the urge to protest.

Uncomfortable with the tension building between the men, I try scooting away from Shark, but he tightens his hold on the back of my neck. When I whimper softly, he releases me and lets me slide away from him on the bench.

What’s wrong with Alessio wanting to take me to his home? Does Shark not want me there? Probably not. I’m like a rescue kitten he didn’t really want but couldn’t leave behind either, and now that he’s back in his regular life with his family and friends, he doesn’t know what to do with me.

TEN

BITE THE BAIT

TROY

The horses trot past the gates and up a private driveway, around a fountain with a statue of embracing lovers. A sheet covers whatever his hand is doing between her legs.

The meticulously cut grass, the two gardeners working around the fruit trees, and the massive size of the house are all consistent with the image of wealth Alessio painted when I met him.

“This is a big house,” I inform him.

“A mansion,” Shark specifies good-naturedly.

It wasn’t a boat but a yacht. It’s not a house but a mansion. There are at least twenty windows, indicating many rooms. Pillars support the portico to the front door, which a small boy swings open and rushes out of, screaming what I think might be Shark’s name.

Before the carriage makes a full stop, Shark hops onto the bench we’re sitting on, bends his knees, then launches into a front flip, landing on the asphalt. The boy claps, jumping up and down. Shark picks him up and twirls him around, much to the kid’s delight.

Alessio steps out of the carriage, then offers me his hand. I don’t need help but take it anyway because I like being treated like a princess.Doesn’t every girl?

Shark’s gaze brushes over our connected hands, and he makes a distasteful expression, even as he’s busy with the boy who’s got Alessio’s blue eyes and dense dark hair.

“Leone,” Alessio says, “we have a guest.”

Shark puts the boy down, and Leone stands in front of me like a small soldier, his eyes on my big belly and not on my face.

“This is Troy Montgomery, from Tennessee,” Alessio says.

The boy frowns and looks up at Alessio. “Where is Tennsie?”

“In the United States,” Alessio says. “I’ll show you on the map.”

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