Page 103 of Captured Fantasy

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you, sir.”

He reached into his pocket and slapped something into my hand. I closed my fist around it, already knowing exactly what it was from the bite of the cold metal.

I stood in the cold morning, the sweat drying on my forehead as he turned his back and walked away. Gathering my courage, I looked down at my palm. In it lay the bullet from my gun, carved with Federico’s name.

I popped the cylinder from the revolver and spun it.

Empty.

Spinning on my heel, I strode after Lucien. He barely glanced at me as I caught up with him, blocking his path.

“What the fuck, Esposito?” I snarled.

He released a sigh, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

“Do you think I like cleaning up bodies?” he said flatly. “What does it matter? Didn’t you get the result you’d hoped for?”

“I was ready to fucking die,” I spat.

“And you proved your point.”

“You lied.”

Lucien gestured with the hand holding the cigarette, his cold stare almost hypnotic. My God, he was angry. That was a first.

“I’ve finally got something good, Barone,” he said. “Do you really think Olivia could look me in the eye if I let her brother get shot in head over a woman? Because no, she wouldn’t. Now fuck off, just fuck off so I can go home. And if I so choose, I’ll get a good fuck and an espresso in before I have to deal with the likes of you fucking animals all day.”

I bit my tongue, knowing he’d reached his limit.

His face softened, just a trace. “Go to Enza, tell her what happened, ask her to be your wife. Fuck her knowing that she’s yours, fair and square.”

The adrenaline hit me sometime on the drive to Enza’s house. Once the fear and shock of the morning had faded, it came rushing in like a dam had broken. Blood pumped slow and heavy through my veins. The sweat had dried on my neck, but my flesh still tingled hot.

I remembered the burning fire in her eyes as she’d ordered me from her house. She’d had every right to be angry. The waiting, the not knowing—it had taken its toll on both of us.

Her rage had betrayed a certain lack of confidence, a lack of trust, in me that I disliked. Tonight I was going to fix that problem. I was going to strip everything from her until she had nothing but my body to trust, until she’d given up everything and given it over to me.

That required something else.

Another promise, another piece of jewelry, perhaps more important than the ring she’d already accepted.

I could have ordered the things I needed, but I wanted to pick them out myself. I texted her and told her a car would be there to pick her up at seven. No asking her if she had plans. The time for that was over.

I went to the jewelers and selected a white gold necklace with a single circle of tiny diamonds in the center. It would hug her slender throat, the diamonds resting between her collarbones. And if she accepted it, every time I took her out, I could look across the room and see it glitter on her throat and know she was mine.

Completely, totally mine.

It was seven-thirty when the driver pulled up at the curb. I left the garage and strode across the pavement, opening her door. She was curled up in a ball on the seat, her face like stone and her eyes like fire. Without giving her a chance to speak, I pulled her from the car and lifted her over my shoulder. She yelped, struggling against my grip as I carried her up into the kitchen and deposited her on the counter. Her fists came up, fighting against me, but I seized them and pinned them to her sides.

“What the fuck, Cosimo,” she hissed.

“You’re mine, Enza,” I said firmly.

She stilled.

“Rico gave you up and Lucien gave me his blessing.”

All the fight seeped from her body. “How?”

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