Page 57 of Captured Innocence

I struggled under his massive weight, fighting him with everything I had, scrambling for a few seconds to try to reach the gun but it was no use.

I’d snagged a knife from Sasha’s cold, dead body and somehow by the grace of God, managed to drag it from the jacket. My new assailant knew exactly what I was doing, grabbing my arm and slamming it on the cement. The pain was intense, his body weight crushing me. He smashed my arm again, then twisted my wrist to such an awkward angle, I was certain he’d snap it into. Suddenly, I couldn’t take it any longer.

“Stop. Please stop.” Even though I’d spouted off before I could stop myself, I did what I could to keep from showing him any additional fear even though my stomach churned inside. I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t ready. I would still fight, even though every muscle ached.

He tensed immediately, rearing back. Then he ripped the cap from my head, cursing in Italian. Seconds later, he yanked off the goggles, the ugly single orange light allowing me to see his face.

“Sophia,” he growled. “What the fuck?”

Oh, my God. I was shocked, more so than I’d been in a long time, relief flooding through me. I was in a crazy moment of limbo, blinking several times until I could believe my eyes and my ears. Him. They’d sent the bastard to hunt me down. I was angry. I was relieved. I was sick to my stomach.

Unwanted tears rushed into my eyes.

My hero. Oh, Jesus.

Memories rushed to the back of my mind, a darkness that I’d done everything in my power to ignore. To avoid.

To run away from.

I’d managed for years, lying to myself about why I’d remained in Paris. Now him. Now this.

My hero.

My monster.

My first.

The only man I could ever love.

The one I desperately wanted to hate. The man who’d… No, I’d shut down any possibility of loving him long before, after I’d come to my senses. And after Lucia had described a second time what she’d seen on a horrible night when she was barely twelve.

“Mattia. It’s…”

“Hello, princess. Did you miss me?”

My throat was suddenly tight, my mind a horrible blur. I couldn’t stop shaking and it had nothing to do with what I’d gone through during the last few days. “It’s fucking you.”

“In the flesh.” He gave me the same kind of heated look I remembered from the last time I’d seen him, the night in Paris one that continued to haunt me almost as much as seeing him shaking hands with my father on my nineteenth birthday. I reacted out of fear and fury, doing everything I could to shove him away.

“Get off me.”

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, his voice nothing but a dark and dangerous purr. Just like I remembered.

“You son of a…”

“Be careful, princess. I’m the only man who can save you,” Mattia responded. “I think you know that.”

God, I hated his egotistical attitude. But I craved him just as desperately as I had before. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay out of my life.”

“It seems like you need some help.”

“Not from you. I’m going to tell you this one more time. Get off me.”

“Or what? What are you going to do?”

Everything about the man was infuriating. “Try me and you’ll find out.”

The grin on his face was as irritating as it had been all those years ago when we’d tangled for the first time. “What’s wrong, princess? Finally realizing you can’t handle me?”

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