Page 40 of Thorns of Blood
But the cat was out of the bag, and it was about time I took a wife. It would be the best way to keep her safe from the cartel, the Syndicate, and the Omertà.
“Giovanni?” Romeo called.
My gaze slid to the unsuspecting woman. “I’m going to convince her to marry me.”
FOURTEEN
LIANA
My childhood and teenage years were spent being molded by my mother, trained and educated on how best to succeed in the world she chose to live in. Yes, I had the freedom to walk the compound grounds, but Louisa and I were given very little freedom to make our own choices. And so, when Santiago Tijuana took me, one prison was exchanged for another.
I’d been shoved in a dark place where minutes and hours ticked by, becoming more and more unbearable. The newfound feeling of loneliness became my only companion, enfolding me into its invisible arms. Locked in. Silent. Hopeless.
Days, months, and years turned into a permanent nightmare.
Sometimes it was a blessing that I was drugged a lot, because it somewhat dulled the pain and humiliation of what I had to endure. Then slowly but surely, I built a tolerance to drugs, and even that small relief was taken away from me. I prayed for death on so many occasions, having to endure the vile things Santiago and Perez designed for me. It was where my aversion to men and any form of touch came about.
Until Amara came into my life.
At first, she was forced to sleep in the basement with the other kids, but I quickly manipulated Santiago into charging her into my care. She was allowed into my room, albeit under heavy protection. She kept me going. Even after we’d escaped and I began my new life of specialized revenge, I knew Amara would be the one person who’d give me purpose.
And now she was gone.
It didn’t kill me, but it felt like something had started to slowly die.
And I was once again alone for it all.
The sun slanted across my body now, and I looked out Giovanni’s bedroom window, wondering for the umpteenth time how Amara was doing, if she was being held, if the surgery had gone well.
For the first time in my life, I uttered a silent prayer, asking that my daughter be kept safe and most importantly loved.
My eyes fell to my lap, where my fingers were entwined, and snagged on the broken nail. I hated the look of unmanicured nails, something about it reminding me of the darkest part of my life. If I had time to sit and listen to a shrink, they’d probably tell me it was a matter of control more than vanity. But I had better things to do, things Ishouldbe doing now if I wasn’t stuck on this godforsaken boat.
I viewed the space around me, scouring it for anything that could help me out of this mess. The room was bigger and more luxurious than the one I was in before. The scent that lingered in the air told me it belonged to a man. And not just any man, but the one who owned the yacht.
I lay in the middle of a king-sized bed with its iron headboard, comfortable white sheets, and fluffy duvet. The cabin was large and bright, thanks to the sun reflecting off the ocean and shining through the gleaming windows.
How long had I been stuck here? Three days, maybe four?
Dammit, I had work to do, product to move and shipments to coordinate. Hopefully José would continue moving product without delay. We couldn’t afford to piss off our suppliers or customers.
I leaned back against the soft pillows and took a deep breath, pushing business out of my mind for now. My muscles and my lungs were still sore, and I didn’t need a doctor to tell me it had to do with my escape attempt.
As feeble as it turned out to be.
But there’d be no more of that. I refused to play the victim or run. Giovanni Agosti would pay for daring to tear down my hard-earned peace. I was done being a pawn in anyone’s game.
I would show him that no one touched Liana Volkov without consequences.
At the sound of the lock clicking and door opening, I turned to see Giovanni. And proceeded to freeze at the sight.
He stood at the entrance, wearing nothing but sweatpants, the waistband hanging low. I tried to avert my eyes from his bare chest, but they had a mind of their own as they returned to take in the muscles spanning his well-defined torso.
Jesus, even his hips were cut.
My brain cells scattered temporarily, and I couldn’t help but admire him. I hated men, didn’t I?
“Back so soon?” I sighed in an attempt to disguise my reaction.
