Page 33 of Twisted Embrace

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m already damned.”

Two of his men in a huge black SUV had been assigned to follow us. I’d learned one of them was named Anthony. He was apparently Enzo’s right-hand man. He was just as large as Enzo, dressed in an expensive suit, the only difference being he had a killer smile.

I studied Enzo as he started the engine. He seemed much larger than he had before, more dangerous in the night sky. While I remained insanely attracted to him, it didn’t change the reason for me being in the car or the fact my life as I knew it had ended.

I suddenly had the urge to see the tattoos I knew he had hidden under his crisp, bloodstained shirt, eager to trace the lines of art he’d selected to highlight his incredible prowess. Sadly, I knew his handsome looks were entirely deceiving.

The man was deadly but the façade he wore only barely covered his scars, both physical and mental. I yanked my lurid thoughts away, hating that I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to Lucia.

D’Artagnan had ignored me completely, also acting as if I was to blame. I shrank down in the seat, the slight ache I’d had behind my eyes turning into an angry swell of pain. Just sitting on the posh leather was an unwanted reminder of the discipline I’d received.

He placed his weapon on the dashboard, stalling for a few seconds. “We’re going to a hotel in Jersey for the night. You require some rest and we still need to talk.”

Require. The word meant he was allowing a privilege.

“I told you everything I know, which is nothing. Don’t you think I’d want to help you try and find out who did that to Lucia? Don’t you?” I could feel myself becoming hysterical, which wasn’t going to help the situation. He was right. I was exhausted both emotionally and physically.

“Calm down, Joy.”

“For the love of God, would you stop saying my name? And don’t use precious or sweet jewel either.” Lashing out at him also wasn’t in my best interest but I’d gone from being in shock to frazzled, finally heading toward an angry state. Really angry. A kill someone to make myself feel better state of mind. Maybe the dangerous man sitting next to me could teach me a thing or two.

When a laugh bubbled to the surface, even pressing my hand against my lips did nothing to muffle the sound. I sensed his heated glare barely two seconds later. Were my odd reactions similar to the twelve stages of grief? Or was that seven and substance abuse had twelve? Oh, hell. Wasn’t this a brand-new category of suffering?

“We need food as well,” he said in passing as if doing his best to ignore the fact the woman he’d just kidnapped was having a nervous breakdown in the seat beside him. I couldn’t blame him for ignoring my rant.

I closed my eyes, pressing the same hand against my forehead. “You wouldn’t happen to have any aspirin, would you?” I was shocked when he reached across my legs to the glove compartment. The action forced his hand to brush across my knee. I sucked in my breath for fear he’d know that I was attracted to him, which was absolutely insane.

When I noticed another weapon inside the confined space, I pushed my back against the seat. He grabbed a bottle then attempted to hand it to me, his arm brushing my leg a second time.

“Relax, Joy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The electricity was far too intense, skipping through my bones as it heated my blood. Swallowing hard, I grasped the bottle with enough force I knew for certain I’d crush it.

“Thank you.” I could barely get the words out of my mouth. “How am I supposed to believe you?”

“You’re welcome and because I’m a man of my word.”

He had to be kidding me. I was supposed to buy that he had no intention of hurting me? The man obviously had no moral compass. Then why are you attracted to him? If only I could find an answer. “Fine.” As I twisted the cap, I realized how much I was shaking. I managed to swallow two of the small pills, shoving the bottle back into the small compartment seconds later. Just debating grabbing the weapon made me feel better, although I didn’t have a death wish.

Chuckling, he shifted lanes, remaining silent as he headed out of the city toward the state I’d once called my home.

The funny thing was that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in Jersey to see my… parents. Had I stopped by the Christmas before? I’d been so busy even though my mother had called me at least three times, longing to have me over for dinner. God. I was such a terrible daughter that I’d found a polite excuse every time. Another laugh threatened to add to my lunacy, but I managed to curtail it. My skin started to crawl as I thought about the events. Coming to terms with the whirlwind was difficult enough without the sledgehammer of being told everything I thought I knew about my family was a lie.

“How can we find out if my supposed father was telling the truth?”

He twisted his hand around the steering wheel before answering. “The DNA tests will provide proof whether you’re their biological daughter or not.”

“I doubt my parents will agree to it. They’ll call you crazy.”

“They will agree.”

“You don’t know my… father.” I could barely say the words. Nothing had changed. If I’d been told I was adopted, would this matter at all? Well, duh, stupid girl. It matters because you’re a Russian princess.

God, I hated my inner voice because it was always right.

“Trust me, Joy. They will do what I tell them to do.”

I snapped my head in his direction, another instinctual move occurring before I caught myself. I grabbed the wheel.

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