Page 11 of Of Murder and Matrimony

He shook his head, waving me off and turning toward the door. “You won’t need these things anymore.”

“You can’t be serious!” I fisted my hands on my hips and stayed in place. I refused to give up everything I’d worked to build. “This is my entire life, Dante! I’m not leaving it behind.”

Dante spun around, stalking toward me and wrapping his hand tightly around my throat. I clawed at his hand and struggled to breathe as the edges of my vision dimmed.

“You’re making this difficult, piccola fantasma.” He reached into his suit and pulled a syringe free, removing the cap with his teeth and spitting it to the floor.

I dropped my weight, but he only followed me to the floor, using his bulk to pin me to the cold wooden planks. My kicks were useless as his weight squeezed the air from my lungs. He forced my head to the side, and I felt the prick of the needle and the burn as he depressed the plunger, pushing the drugs into the muscle where my neck met my shoulder.

He released my neck and sat back as I gasped for air, his thighs pinning my pelvis. When the stars cleared from my vision, I balled my hand into a fist and aimed, punching him between the legs as hard as I could.

“Fuck!” Dante blocked my second swing, cupping his balls and cringing. “That was supposed to knock you out!”

“An intramuscular injection takes more than thirty seconds to work, you fuck!” I brought my fist down on his thigh before he tossed the empty syringe on the coffee table and pinned my hands above my head. “You can fight me for the next twenty minutes.”

It was a long shot that I’d stay conscious for that entire time, especially without knowing the medication or dosage. Still, I thrashed, trying to make Dante’s day as difficult as possible. He transferred my wrists to one of his large hands with barely any effort, freeing a hand to make a call.

“Did you stop the good doctor?” He didn’t even sound like he was exerting himself, though I could feel my body trying to relax. “Good. Keep him monitored to ensure he complies. I’m done here. Bring the car.”

Dante slipped the phone into his pocket and hauled me up. My feet faltered. I didn’t have as much time as I’d hoped. He picked me up effortlessly, his hold pinning my arms and legs.

He chuckled when I rammed my head against his shoulder. “You’re cute when you fight.”

“Not cute,” I panted as he stole me away from my home and climbed into the awaiting SUV outside, keeping his hold as he settled me across his lap.

The two men up front didn’t spare me a look as we drove away. My eyelids grew heavier, and my movements were uncoordinated, my head flopping uselessly back. I stared up into Dante’s dark eyes, noting the worry lines there. His mouth turned down as he stroked my hair gently. Why did his touch feel so nice? I closed my eyes, giving in to the inevitable unconsciousness.

“Sleep, mia piccola fantasma. We’ll be home soon.”

It was the air I felt first when I woke up, cool against my face, but it smelled distinctly different from my home. My eyes were still heavy, and it took substantial effort to force them open. A dim room greeted me, shades of white and tan. I was lying in a bed, the soft white covers pulled up to my chin.

There was no rush of memories. I remembered everything that had happened, and my stomach turned at the surety that I was in Dante’s house, perhaps in his room. I shoved the covers down and turned to climb out of bed, but I froze when dark eyes met mine.

Dante sat in a chair to the side of the bed, leaning back and stroking the stubble on his square jaw. “You’re awake.”

“Astute observation,” I answered drily, my voice hoarse.

“Here.” He offered me a bottle of water. “Drink. It’s been a long day.”

“Thanks to you,” I hissed, opening the water and drinking greedily. When I finished, I set the empty container on the nightstand. “What time is it, anyway?”

Dante glanced down at a watch that likely cost more than I made in months at the clinic. “Just after midnight.”

“Did you give me more sedatives?” I asked, alarmed at the loss of hours. It had been dinnertime when Dante showed up at my house.

He shrugged. “You started to wake. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Do you even know what you’re doing with whatever medication that was?” I stood to take him to task, but my legs didn’t want to support my weight.

Dante was there instantly, supporting my weight with an arm around my waist. He sat down again, positioning me across his thighs. “There. Now you can yell at me.”

I was suddenly tired again, but I scowled at him. “You could have harmed me.”

“Cosimo said it was perfectly safe,” he insisted. “Safer than having to physically restrain you for hours.”

He was probably right, but I wasn’t about to give in. “You didn’t have to restrain me at all.”

Dante lifted a brow. Damn the man. He didn’t even need words for me to understand the meaning behind that slight movement.

---