Page 46 of His Dark Vendetta

I picked up a loaf of Wonder Bread and put it in the cart, garnering a hefty amount of side-eye.

“Everything transferred into my name when I turned eighteen, but I didn’t touch any of it till after college.”

I picked up a package of chocolate chip cookies and held it up to him in question.

He shrugged.

“We’re shopping for you too,” I said. “There’s nothing to eat in that house.”

“I’m fine.”

“What? You don’t eat?”

“Of course, I eat.”

“You can’t cook?”

He gaped at me as if I’d blasphemed. “I’m Italian. Of course I can cook. I just choose not to. Easier to pick up some gabagool or a slice at Tarantino’s.”

I tossed the package in the cart. “Soup aisle.”

He turned the cart, and I followed.

“Well, that car is in perfect condition,” I said. “Amazing.”

“Itwasin perfect condition,” he said all surly and cocked an eyebrow.

I canted my head.

“It was in perfect condition until someone barfed on my passenger-side floor mat.”

I scoffed. “That’s your own damn fault. You kidnapped me and almost threw me off the Tobin Bridge, remember? I did nothing wrong.”

He grabbed my arm, pulled me close, and stopped the cart. “You may not be a rat, but you’re still a Shaughnessy. Don’t forget that, because I won’t.”

“I’m not doing this here,” I hissed. I yanked my arm free and marched down the soup aisle. I loaded two cans of chicken noodle into the cart and paused. “Any idea how long you’re going to keep me prisoner?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Until you help me even the score between our families.”

“I’d love to hear how you think I’m going to do that.” I put two more cans in the cart, then grabbed the handle and started driving it myself. “Care to clue me in on the grand plan?”

He eyed me sideways, his lips pressed into an irritated line.

“Ah. I see. There is no plan. Fantastic. Really fucking great, Luca.” I turned for the dairy section. “Selfish asshole,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Excuse me?”

I stopped, faced him, and moved my mouth slowly through each word. “Selfish. Asshole.” I raised my eyebrows, and he scowled. I spun away and kept moving. “No better than Ciarán or Rory or any of the other selfish assholes in my life.”

“Don’t compare me to those lawless fucks. And what the hell’s that supposed to mean anyway?”

“Lawless, huh?” I snorted. “Says the kidnapper. And it means exactly what you think it means. You’re all the same. Selfish assholes.”

“I got you clothes, didn’t I? We’re grocery shopping, aren’t we?”

I glared at him and his smug face. “Oh, yeah. You’re a real paragon of charity. I’ll be sure to order you an engraved plaque.” I looked down at the slightly-too-big leggings and my off-the-shoulder long sleeve—the only clothes appropriate for public. “Booty shorts, crop tops, scraps of fabric I can only assume are underwear. Not to mention that—that blue thing.”

His nostrils flared at the mention of the sheer teddy I found buried in the gym bag. I’d thrown it across the room, pissed at his presumption and the flare of heat that had shot between my legs.

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