Laurella stepped into her apartment and closed the door behind her. She locked it and put on the chain. She sighed tiredly and dropped her bag on a nearby chair then glanced at her watch. Forty-five minutes until Calum was due. Plenty of time to grab a shower and get changed. He was taking her to the theater that evening to celebrate being home.

Home… yes, that was how she now thought of New York. Being back in Italy for those few days had taught her that she wanted more. To go back there permanently would have been the wrong thing to do, although if Cole and Draven hadn’t managed to scare off Vorino, she wouldn’t have had a choice.

Cole hadn’t spilled all the details of what happened when he and Draven had gone round to Vorino’s hotel, but what he had shared had been enough. Vorino was a coward at heart, like most bullies, and he wouldn’t risk going up against the likes of Cole and Draven. She was glad Calum had stayed out of it. The last thing she wanted was him getting into trouble for her, although she knew how difficult he’d found it to hand off the task of dealing with Vorino to his twin brother. Calum was such a manly man that he couldn’t have liked standing back. But he’d done it for her, his willingness to follow her wishes offering yet more ironclad evidence of his love.

She padded into the bedroom and quickly undressed. Stepping into the shower, she bent her head and let the hot water cascade over her, washing away the stress of the last few hours. The day had gone much better than she’d imagined. Everyone had been so welcoming, so glad to have her back. She was starting to understand what Calum had said to her all those months before: small companies were like family.

After a few minutes, she got out and wrapped herself in a large towel. She dried off and went into the bedroom then removed the blue lingerie Calum had referred to in Chicago. Chuckling to herself, she slipped on the panties and fastened the bra. She knew what his response would be when he undressed her later that evening.

With gentle strokes, she brushed her hair, easing out the knots. She really did need a haircut. She liked to wear it long, but the extra inches made it difficult to manage. That place down on Sixth and Forty-Third had a decent hairdresser. She’d call in the morning and see if they could fit her in over the weekend.

She plugged in her hairdryer, but as she went to switch it on, she paused, wrinkling her nose. What was that smell? It was vaguely familiar. Where had she smelled it before? She didn’t get a chance to investigate because a strong arm came around her neck, and she was yanked backward.

Her knee hit the edge of the dresser, and pain ballooned outward. She screamed, arms and legs flailing as she tried to get her assailant off her. She caught him with an elbow to the ribs, and he grunted and leaned back, which gave her enough room to twist out of his hold.

She sprinted for the kitchen, but he was on her before she got there. His arm came around her throat again, and this time he applied so much pressure she struggled to breathe. Oh God, what’s happening? Panic and fear froze her brain. He was much stronger than she was—too strong for her to do anything.

Her gaze fell on a kitchen knife lying three feet away on the counter. Using every ounce of strength, she lunged.

And missed.

Her attacker slammed her face-first against the wall. Pain exploded in her cheek, knocking her sick. He grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head. He smelled of garlic, booze, and stale sweat.

“You’ll remember this position from last time.”

She heaved violently. Every inch of her body crawled with revulsion and disgust as she realized who had her. That was the smell—his cologne, buried underneath the other more prevalent scents.

Her mind screamed out in agony. No! Not again. She would not let him do this to her again.

She tried to breathe through the panic, but like a snowball, it built from deep within her. Sweat drenched her skin, and her heart pummeled against her ribcage. He managed to trap both her wrists in one of his large hands, and he slowly rubbed the other up and down her spine.

“Have you missed me, Laurella? Missed how hard I made you come last time? You like it rough, don’t you, cara mia? Well, don’t worry, because that’s what you’re going to get.”

He licked the back of her neck, forcing a repulsive shudder from her. She tasted vomit at the back of her mouth.

“I think about our night together often. But then you had to ruin everything by lying! You destroyed my life, but I’m a patient man. I bided my time, and when my opportunity came around, I took it.” He was panting. Her stomach lurched from the stench of his breath. “I was hoping to toy with you for a bit longer, but then you sent those thugs after me.”

Stay calm. Keep your wits about you. You’re no match for him physically, but you’re smart. Think your way out.

“What thugs?” she said, playing the innocent. “Alberto, please?”

“Please what? Please don’t hurt me? I’ve waited four years for my revenge. Your pretty-boy American won’t be interested in my little Italian whore by the time I’ve finished.”

How long had she been home? Twenty minutes? Calum wouldn’t get there in time. Acid burned her throat, but she forced her body to relax, to stop fighting him—to make him think she’d yield and give him what he thought he was owed.

“Please let me go so we can do this properly. I can make you feel good, Alberto, but not like this.”

He hesitated, his grip loosening from around her wrists. “Don’t play games, Laurella.”

“I’m not. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you until we met again. You’re right. Calum is no match for you.” The words scored her heart. Please forgive me for what I’m about to do, il mio amore.

“Then why did you just lunge for that weapon? Why send those thugs to scare me off?”

“I didn’t know it was you,” she said, thinking on her feet, praying she’d be able to go through with what she needed to do. “I thought I was being attacked and reacted like any woman alone would do. And I don’t know anything about any thugs. Maybe it was Calum. He’s crazy jealous of our history.” She wriggled against him, hating herself, hating him for what he was forcing her to do. His erection pressed against the crease of her bottom, and her stomach reacted violently. She gagged, but fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.

She sucked in a deep breath through her nose to calm the oncoming nausea. “I’m glad you’re back, Alberto. I was a stupid girl back then. But I’m a woman now. A woman who knows what she wants. And she wants you.”

He trembled with what she assumed was pleasure then dropped her arms and spun her around. His mouth crashed down on hers, his stubble tearing at her tender flesh, his tongue almost choking her as he thrust it inside her mouth. She urged her body to comply and her mind to switch off.

She pressed lightly a hand to his chest and pushed. When he drew back, she forced a smile. “Slow down. There’s no rush.” She caressed a hand down his cheek. “Let’s go into my bedroom where we’ll be more comfortable.” She added a coy smile followed by a girlish giggle. “I might even let you tie me up.”

His lecherous gaze raked over her, and he licked his lips. He took one step back. It was all the room she needed. She lunged for the knife. Her fingers closed around the hilt. She spun around, holding the blade out front, her hands trembling, even though she tried so hard to still them.

“Don’t come near me,” she said, tears dripping down her cheeks and blurring her vision.

Vorino recoiled in shock, but he recovered quickly. He sneered. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“I will if you ever touch me again,” she cried, “I’ll do it.”

His eyes narrowed, and then he lurched forward. He grabbed her wrist, shaking the limb hard, trying to get her to drop the blade. But she held on. With everything she had, she clutched the hilt, her only chance at survival, because if Vorino violated her for a second time, it would kill her.

She formed a fist and swung her other arm backward then hit him in the face with as much force as she could muster. Pain shot through her hand. She screamed, hoping one of her neighbors might hear and come running.

He closed in on her. There was a struggle. Laurella fell backward. Vorino tumbled on top of her. She hit her head on the floor and felt herself go woozy. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

They wrestled. As the last vestiges of strength left her, a sharp pain sliced through her side, and then a warm wetness spread across her abdomen. He was heavy. So heavy. She couldn’t get him off. He gurgled deep in his throat. Laurella reached a hand between them. When she brought her fingers up, they were covered in blood. She didn’t know whether it was hers… or his.

She heaved at his chest. He rolled to the side. And then she saw it. The kitchen knife sticking out of his abdomen. His eyes lolled back in his head, and a rattling noise came from his chest.

Laurella stared, frozen in shock. There was so much blood. It pooled beneath his body. Thick, dark, gloopy. He was dying. She knew it, but instead of rushing to help, to try to stem the loss of blood, she watched as the life drained out of her tormentor.

She’d killed a man. And she would pay.