Page 226 of Dangerous as Sin

I’m not special. Or the object of his affection.

I am just another woman in a white uniform.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

People dream about escaping to a place like Sardinia, with its white-washed villas, soft sandy beaches, and water as blue as a cloudless sky.

My thoughts are preoccupied with escaping it.

I glare at the tracking device anchored around my ankle, a reminder that the only way I’m leaving paradise is if he allows it.

As for my captor, he’s free to come, go, and frolic poolside with his “staff.”

I swipe at a tear, feeling lost and alone, then drag myself up the stone stairs leading from the private beach to the pool patio.

Tommaso’s waiting for me at the top.

I glance around, wondering if Sandro’s returned.

“He’s not here.”

I stiffen. “Whatever.”

“He’s in Rhode Island,” Tommaso continues, “with his father and … um … family.”

“Must be nice visiting family.”

“Nice?” Tommaso snorts. “You haven’t met his father, our capo di tutti capi.” He shakes his head but rethinks his decision to share further and instead says, “Want a drink?”

I follow him to the bar and, seconds later, am presented with a lemony drink. I take a sip, and then another. “What is this?”

“Limoncello. The Italian nectar of the Gods.” He opens a beer, shrugging when I raise an eyebrow. “A woman like you deserves something just as sweet.”

I grin and settle onto a barstool. “You don’t consider yourself worthy?”

“Hell no. I’m better suited to this pale ale.”

“And Sandro?” I press on, enjoying the analogies.

“Boss is a double shot of fine whiskey followed by a cheap beer chaser.”

I somber. “Because he can’t make up his mind?” About me. About what to do with me.

“No. Because Sandro wants the finer things in life but is relegated to the down and dirty because of who he is.” Tommaso takes a long drag of his beer.

“Because he’s a Beneventi?”

“The Beneventi heir.” Tommaso stares at the bottle in his hand. “His older brother hasn’t lived up to expectations.”

“And Sandro has?” I press on.

“He wasn’t always an asshole.”

My eyes widen.

“His father was only twenty when he took them in. An ambitious, no-holds-barred guy rising in the ranks. Mr. Beneventi was too young, too hardcore, to do a good job of raising them alone.” Tommaso pauses to search my expression. What for, I can’t decide. But whatever he sees encourages him to continue. “He groomed his sons to be ruthless shits, except only one truly is.”

“Sandro.”

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