Page 26 of Tainted Obsession 1
“All he cares about is power and money,” Massimo growls. “I know men like him. He would sacrifice anything for it, even you. I won’t allow that to happen.”
My insides quake at his formidable frown, but I manage to hold my ground, my defiant stare clashing with his. No matter what’s happening with George, the man holding me so gently just admitted that he’s friends with a drug lord.
“Let me go.”
“No.” It’s a low, firm refusal. There’s no room for negotiation in that hard tone. “It’s not safe for you out there.”
“I’m not safe in here!” My voice is a bit too high pitched. I take a quick breath to quell my mounting panic and hurry on. “You’re a criminal. I don’t know where you’ve brought me, but it’s not a safe house. I want to leave. Now.”
He’s completely unmoved by my outburst.
“Stefano Duarte owns this building. It would take a small army to penetrate his defenses. No one will get to you here.”
My heart sinks. Massimo saved me, but he’s also kidnapped me.
I didn’t understand what was happening when I let him put me on that motorcycle. He managed to capture me with little effort.
All it took was risking his life to save yours,an unwelcome voice whispers in the back of my mind.
I ignore it. The cold, hard facts are that Massimo has been stalking me, and now he’s trapped me in a drug lord’s fortress.
Looking up into his silver eyes, I see a flash of possessiveness, a dark hunger as he studies my face.
Massimo wants me, and he has no intention of letting me go.
Chapter 12
Massimo
Evelyn’s wide green eyes fix on mine, but her pupils aren’t dilated with desire. Her pale cheeks and the lines of strain around her lush lips convey one terrible emotion: fear.
Evelyn is afraid of me.
My gut twists.
I’ve enjoyed seeing myself as her savior. I should’ve known reality would ruin that eventually.
I straighten my shoulders, hardening my resolve. George Crawford is a piece of shit, and she’ll be in danger as long as he’s breathing. I’ll continue protecting her, whether she likes it or not.
Evelyn isn’t going anywhere.
But for now, I’ll give her a little space to process her situation.
I become acutely aware of the faint pink smudge on her cheekbone where I wiped my blood away. More of my blood stains her camisole, even though it’s covered by my t-shirt.
Better mine than Crawford’s.
That fucker has no claim over her. Not anymore.
She wriggles in my arms, and I reluctantly let her go. She reels, as though she didn’t expect me to release her. I brace my hands around her waist to steady her.
Her lovely eyes narrow, and her chin tips back in that defiant posture. She’s brave, a quality I admire even as I crave to kiss the tension from her lips—until that impertinent expression melts from her delicate features. I want her soft and pliant in my arms, panting against my mouth with hungry lashes of her tongue.
I force myself to let her go and take a step back. I cross my arms over my chest to prevent myself from reaching for her again. She looks so damn fragile in my oversized shirt, her willowy frame appearing more delicate than ever.
Keeping her locked in a stern stare, I nod in the direction of the ensuite.
“Go get cleaned up. I’ll be right here,” I add, a reassurance and a warning.
