Page 35 of Ruthless King
I had to keep telling myself these two ladies worked for Luca, and they too had a hand in keeping me hostage. Not as much as Mario, who lingered just outside the private fitting room with a gun in the holster beneath his black jacket, but still.
After the accidental shooting the other day, he never took his eyes off me.
Once we load up all the shopping bags, each of us carrying three apiece and Mario toting the rest, we descend onto the busy streets of Fifth Avenue. The traffic is so bad from rush hour we have to walk up the block to meet Mickey in the town car by Central Park or we’d be stuck for hours in gridlock.
“I can’t wait to see you in that blue gown,” says Clara as we weave through the mob of men and women in sleek business suits. “Luca’s going to have a heart attack.”
I choke on my spit as I try not to laugh. “I didn’t think he had a heart.”
Clara’s warm gaze turns icy as she regards me. “Luca has a heart of gold,ragazzina. He might be a ruthless businessman on the outside, but inside, there is no one better. He doesn’t let many people in, but when he does, you could never find a more generous man.”
An unexpected wave of guilt rushes over me. The man had just spent close to ten thousand dollars on me, nearly half of what my father owed him. Why would he do such a thing? It makes no sense.
My footsteps slow as I attempt to process the insanity that has become my life in the last forty-eight hours and fall behind the others.
A thick shoulder slams into me, and I’m knocked off-balance. As I try to right myself a hand weaves between my fingers and wrenches one of the shopping bags free. “Hey!” I shout as the man reaches for another.
Mario spins around but two men with briefcases dart between us, rushing to catch a cab. I clench my fingers around the shopping bag handle and curse at the robber. But damn the asshole is strong. He pulls a gun out and shoves the barrel into my belly.
“Give me the damned bags,” he hisses.
I freeze, fear paralyzing the blood rushing through my veins.
Pocketing the gun, he yanks me forward, and the paper bag breaks. I lunge to reach for it, but my legs tangle and I go flying across the cement.
I hit the ground with a smack, my forehead bouncing off the concrete and all the air squeezes from my lungs. The rough cement bites into my cheek, and I let out a little squeal. My beautiful clothes scatter across the sidewalk as the thief grabs what he can before darting into the thick mob.
Mario drops the remaining shopping bags and races after theladrone, but the guy already has a block on him. Clara and Magda rush to my side, clearing a space around me. My head is already starting to pound.
“Are you okay?” Magda kneels on the ground and offers me a hand.
“OhMadonna, your face.” Clara’s pinched expression says it all.
I sit up and gently raise my hand to my cheek, then the knot on my forehead, and I wince. My fingers come back sticky with blood and dirt.
Some random guy in a navy suit bends down with his cell in hand. “I saw the whole thing, are you okay? I called 911, they should be here any minute now.”
I nod numbly. A prickle of heat burns the corners of my eyes. Which makes no sense. I was sold to a mobster, and I didn’t cry, and nowthiswould break me?
I bring my knees to my chest and curl into a ball. I’m vaguely aware of Magda gathering the remaining sparkling gowns from the sidewalk.
“Here,bella.” Clara bends down beside me, clutching a Duane Reade bag. She presses ice to my forehead then opens a bottle of peroxide and cotton balls. “This will sting a little, but it will disinfect the cut.” How she’d bought all the necessary first aid supplies so quickly was beyond me. Did I black out? How long had I been sitting on the ground?
The thunder of approaching footfalls jerks me from the haze. Strong hands cradle my face, and penetrating eyes meet mine. “Stellina,stai bene? Are you okay?”
Stellina. That voice reaches deep inside me, and that nickname pierces through to my very soul. It’s the second time Luca has called me that.
He snatches the cotton ball from Clara’s fingers and gently dabs it across the scrape. I hiss as the peroxide burns my skin. His lips pucker, and he blows a cool breath over the wound. Goosebumps ripple across my arms, and a tremor races up my spine. The depth of emotion surging beneath the dark surface steals the remaining air from my lungs. I’m trapped in his piercing gaze, and I just want to lose myself in the endless abyss.
“Where did you come from?” I mumble.
“My office is nearby. I was grabbing a coffee ….”
Nearby? Park Avenue is two long streets away. Even if he’d sprinted it should’ve taken him longer to get here.
Mario appears over Luca’s shoulder, drawing my eyes away from those mesmerizing midnight globes. “Sorry,capo, I lost him.”
Luca hisses out a curse and spears the man with a withering glare. “Get with Tony and find out who that lowlife scum was immediately. No one touches what’s mine and lives.” His eyes meet mine for an impossibly long moment before jerking back to Mario. “And I’ll deal with you later.”
