Page 8 of Single Malt Drama

Marco

Most men would consider speedingaround the Italian coastline in a yacht with a beautiful woman a dream come true. While they’d be right, this particular dream had the capacity to turn into a nightmare quicker than I could pop the cork on a bottle of Dom Perignon.

Buttoning my shirt, I joined Dante in the cockpit, took out a pair of binoculars, and scanned the Mediterranean Sea.

“This is a bad idea.” My brother hardly ever complained, but he’d repeated the sentence a million times since I’d told him about the rescue mission.

I plopped into a captain’s chair and answered the same way I had a million times before. “I know, but she needs our help.”

Dante gave me side-eye. “Where are we taking her?”

“She wants to go to Pantelleria…”

“Is that wise?”

“No. It’s not.” I mentally ran through the small coastal towns within a few hours of Sicily and came up empty. “How far north on the mainland can we get and still be home by dawn?”

“Dawn? Are you serious? I thought we agreed to tell Gabe we went fishing.”

We’d need a plausible explanation for our absence. Where would two young, attractive single men go after escaping the family compound? To find women. “Sure, we went fishing and then decided to have a few drinks. Can we make it as far north as Vibo Marina and get to Taormina before midnight-ish?”

Dante narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, if you want to circle the entire fucking island before we show up in tourist central for a few overpriced cocktails.”

Clamping a hand on his shoulder, I said, “Think about it, bro. Where better than Taormina to see and be seen? It’s the perfect alibi.”

“We shouldn’t need an alibi. This is a bad idea.” He glared as if daring me to disagree again. “We’re going to have to stop for fuel at some point.”

Shit. The more people who saw us, the more likely word would get back to Pietro Lazio. “Make it someplace small. We can’t risk anyone recognizing us or the boat.”

“Obviously.” He ran his hand over his head. “Stupid question, but why aren’t you taking her to Comiso and putting her on the company jet?”

Great minds think alike. “She’s afraid one of her father’s spies will see them getting on the plane, or the plane taking off, or who the hell knows. Bottom line, she doesn’t want to put us in more danger.”

“Screw that. We’re up to our asses in alligators as it is.” Dante changed our heading. “We have security in Comiso. I’ll call my guys and set up an escort when we get closer.”

“She’s going to be pissed.” I couldn’t help but laugh. He’d given me the best of both worlds. Nico’s safety, and someone to blame when she found out about the change of plans.

“Like I give a shit.” He fidgeted around like a toddler on the verge of a meltdown. “What is she doing down there?”

“Cleaning up.” The thought of Nico wet and naked downstairs made my blood rush south.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without makeup. I barely recognized her.” Dante’s frown deepened. “She looked young and terrified.”

“Nico’s my age.” Leave it to my baby brother to make me feel like a perv. Here I was sporting wood over a woman who was running for her life, or more specifically, running from an arranged marriage to yet another of my brothers.

“Too fucking young to get hitched.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

He gave me a what-the-hell look. “Dude, she literally ran away from her mob boss father to avoid marrying Enzo.”

Nodding, I glanced away.

“You still have a thing for her?” He barked out a laugh. “That’s what this is all about? You’re hoping you’ll ride in on your noble steed, brandish your sword, and save the princess from the evil dragon? Then the two of you will…. what? Ride off into the sunset together?”

“Not before Frodo gives me the magical ring.” I smirked. “I don’t have a thing for her. She’s pretty much been promised to Enzo since she turned fifteen. I have no desire to screw our brother’s future wife.”

“And you have your head up your ass. She obviously isn’t interested in honoring that promise now. Is she?”

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