Page 3 of Immoral

Cold air rushes inside, slapping my nearly naked self. Everything is dark, minus the outline of an SUV. I try to fight again, but the man pushes me toward it then opens the back door. Before I can process anything, another man inside tugs me in and over his lap.

I scream, but it falls on deaf ears. The slamming of doors ricochets through the air before the car starts moving. I try to sit up, but whoever has me over his lap won't release me.

Then I hear his voice and freeze. The fight in me changes into a new one.

I'm no longer fighting for my life.

This is a fight for my heart.

1

Gianni Marino

"Stop fighting me!"I demand, pissed Cara was in this situation. I'm angry she wouldn't listen to me about Uberto. He's an Abruzzo snake. No matter how much I warned her, she kept denying it just to spite me. And while I won't pretend I don't deserve every bit of her wrath for what I've put her through over the years, it doesn't make swallowing her pill any easier.

She freezes.

I slide my hand under the coat and over her bare ass, trying to calm my still-racing heart. For three hours, I sat on pins and needles, waiting for my undercover guy, Luca, to outbid the room. Every second that passed tested my willpower. I fought not to bust down the door and shoot every thug in the room. But as hot as I was, I knew doing that would only result in Cara getting hurt.

I didn't have the backup to take out enough men. There were at least three hundred in that warehouse, all placing money on women they wanted to own.

For months, Cara hasn't done anything without me knowing. I had her phone tapped and my most trusted guys trailing her. I had men on Uberto, too. I knew what he was capable of the first moment I laid eyes on him. Maybe if our shared past was different, Cara would have heeded my warning and dumped him. But there were too many times I told her to get rid of the guy she was seeing, only to be with her and let her go again.

I don't know why I always did that. Every time I would get too close, something made me run.

It was never long before I'd regret it. Every single time, I'd kick myself. But then the next time, I'd do it all over again.

This time, no matter how much I told Cara I wouldn't run, she wouldn't budge. It's like she wrote me off, and no one has ever made me feel so desperate to have them.

Now, she's not going to have a choice about me in her life. There's only one way to protect her going forward. I'll make sure there's no way she can get out of it.

"Get your hand off my ass!" she orders, but her voice cracks.

I squeeze her cheek then flip her so she's sitting on my lap. She tries to get away, but she's too weak. I hold her firmly, knowing what the Abruzzos do to women. No doubt she's been drugged. Her ability to get out of my grasp is nonexistent. But that isn't what stops me from releasing her. Now that I have her again, I'll never be stupid enough to let her go.

I palm her head and study her. Anger reignites within me. Her blue eyes are bloodshot. She has makeup caked on her face, which is a sin as far as I'm concerned. Cara's mother is French and her father is Latino. She has a natural beauty that doesn't need to be hidden by makeup. It's another reminder of how disillusioned the Abruzzos are. But what upsets me the most is how she's trying to hold it together. Her lips tremble, and the hatred she has for me fills her eyes, mixing with the fear of what she just went through.

I press my forehead to hers, closing my eyes for a brief moment. I murmur, "You scared the shit out of me."

Her entire body shakes. A tear falls down her cheek. Her breath merges with mine.

All I want to do is kiss her, but I hold back. I ask the question I'm scared to find out the answer to but need to know. "Are you hurt, my tesoro?"

She whispers, "I'm not your tesoro."

A pain shoots through my heart. I tighten my arm around her, tugging her even closer to me. "You are. You've always been and will always be. Stop fighting me."

More tears slide down her face. "You gave up that right years ago."

I ignore the sharp ache, which grows more intense. I hold her head against my chest, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. I repeat, "What did they do to you? Are you hurt?"

The gravity of the situation must finally be catching up to her. Her entire body erupts in convulsions, and she sobs hard.

More anxiety plagues me. "Shh," I say, attempting to calm her, but she doesn't. I tilt her chin and lock my gaze on her emotional one, sternly demanding, "Tell me what they did to you."

She shakes her head, choking out, "Nothing besides the stage."

The war raging inside me, I try to control. Visions of her naked, on stage, wearing nothing but the collar and stilettos while men bid on her, burns every cell in my body. I'm not a man who sits back, allowing others to hurt those I love. It's no secret the Abruzzos are involved in human trafficking. It's a crime my family would never engage in, and the fact my tesoro was almost sold makes me ill. In a typical scenario, I'd act swiftly, brutally, and with precision. Not killing Uberto right now is testing all of my patience, yet taking care of Cara and putting the parameters in place to make sure no one touches her again needs to be my top priority.

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