Page 65 of Captured Innocence

Vincenzo reached out, his expression unreadable.

I thrust my body forward, lunging for his hand. When he managed to grab my wrist, he took a deep breath then hoisted me into the air. Thank God the man was like a raging bull, not an inch of fat on him.

When I landed on the platform, I heard several cheers as if the people were witnessing a hero in action.

Little did they know I was the devil in disguise.

“Jesus Christ, boss. You’re fuckin’ nuts. I mean no disrespect.”

Chuckling, I glanced into his eyes before moving toward the door into the cabin. “Did the doctor arrive?”

“Yeah, he’s here. What did you see?”

I smoothed down my jacket. “A ghost that doesn’t exist. Where is Sophia?”

“In the cabin. What are you doing to do with our… guest?”

His grin made me shake my head as I thought about his question. “Tame her. One way or the other.”

CHAPTER 19

Sophia

This was my so-called life.

I should have gotten used to it by now.

The danger.

The uncertainty.

The longing for someone I couldn’t have. Even now, my skin tingled at the thought of Mattia’s touch, the heated kiss that had awakened so many strong feelings. I fisted my hands, trying to keep from screaming.

The unpredictable lifestyle had been my mother’s undoing, her fragile mental state almost losing its battle long before I’d reached adulthood. That had left my sister as a surrogate, even though she was only a few years older. My mother had rallied after my father’s death but had never fully recovered.

That wasn’t the kind of life I wanted, fearful that my children would be abused by my husband or hating me because of what I believed in. Nope.

I wanted love and a beautiful home. Maybe I was foolish enough to want the white picket fence, something I’d learned from Lucia given her American influences. Even Joy had mentioned that to me in passing during the two times I’d seen her. She adored Enzo with her whole being just like Lucia did with D’Artagnan. That’s what I wanted and had convinced myself I’d never have.

Why I was going over almost every aspect of my life at this moment had little to do with the fact I’d almost died and more to do with the understanding that I could no longer pretend. After the abduction, I’d be forced to return to Italy permanently. Now I could finally admit how much I hated my life, even if I was one of the wealthiest women in the world. I also had to be one of the loneliest.

I’d grown up being bounced on a Capo’s knee, secured behind prisonlike walls of whatever boarding school I’d been forced to attend and never understanding why other families celebrated holidays with such vigor.

Granted, the home I’d grown up in had been decorated for every festive occasion, the finest decorators and caterers used. But there’d been no laughter, the somber events reminding me of a funeral.

The memories of the past remained vivid, so much so that they’d invaded almost every dream. And the wild running current of electricity that neither one of us had been able to shove aside was back in full force.

Then the attack, the handsome man saving my life. Why was I going over what had occurred again? Did I think I could change the events or alter the fact my father had been such a greedy bastard when he’d been alive?

I’d finally accepted the reason I’d given Mattia my virginity hadn’t been about disobeying my father but about the stars I’d had in my eyes.

I’d been in love with Mattia before walking into his club. I’d reaffirmed it the night he’d taken me inside my old bedroom at my father’s house. Then everything had gone to hell after that. I’d wised up, demanding to return to Paris, my father allowing me. Then a year had turned into almost two, my entire world turning upside down with the murder of my father. Lucia had reminded me more than once to stay away from Mattia, even after realizing that D’Artagnan hadn’t been killed. It hadn’t erased her belief Mattia had been partially responsible for all the atrocities, including the death of Dar’s family.

And I’d allowed myself to believe her words. Had I been wrong? Was that possible? Shivering, I wasn’t certain I could trust my judgment at this point.

Even worse, the passionate desire had never left. Seeing him now had rekindled the fire, so much so I continued to have difficulty breathing around him. Somehow, I had to break the tether. But how? I was no longer the doe-eyed girl he’d deflowered. I was sophisticated and rich.

And just as much of a criminal as the rest of my family. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

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