THE POUNDING BASS drum beating inside Liliana’s skull was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Painful enough to keep her from speaking, but still allowed a strangled groan to slip past her dry lips.
Dry … like her mouth.
And her eyes when she tried to peel them open.
She tried to focus on just one thing. Either the pain, the way her lips peeled off whatever they had been pressed against, the haziness in her mind, or … all the rest. It felt like everything was mixing together and only getting worse the longer she tried to fight whatever was happening to her.
And Christ …
What was happening?
Her vision was as thick and hazy as her mind. As though she were looking through gray clouds to focus on whatever was behind them. Black leather, she thought. A handle, maybe? Also black, but that was just about all she understood.
She tried to reach out to touch whatever it was just in front of her face, but found her strength was seriously lacking. Even moving like she had took every bit of effort she possessed, and when she couldn’t reach whatever was there, her body just gave out.
Done, again.
Why did her stomach feel empty?
Her mouth tasted like vomit.
And her head …
Jesus, her head hurt.
“No, no, no,” she heard.
The words came out sing-song.
Teasing.
Amused.
Pleased.
And that voice.
Oh, God.
That voice.
Every part of Liliana screamed internally at that voice.
Rich Earl.
“Don’t wake up just yet,” Rich said somewhere behind the clouds and the haze and the pain. “I’m not happy enough to talk with you yet, whore.”
That tone.
That warning.
That man.
Liliana squeezed her eyes shut as whatever she was resting on swayed a bit. In a car, maybe. Soft leather, and that distinct rental smell. It had to be a car, didn’t it?
How had she gotten here?
The memory flooded …
“Anything in particular?”
Liliana hummed as she looked over the menu, and glanced back to where Joe was still sleeping on the bed. He was fucking out. Like a damn light, or something. A hurricane wasn’t about to wake that man up, and some silly part of her found that most amusing.
She could have slept longer, too, but she woke up hungry.
And horny.
The horny bit she would deal with once Joe was awake, and she had food in her stomach. Jesus, she needed to have some kind of priorities where this man and sex was concerned, or she was going to end up starving herself because she would much rather stay in bed and fuck her days away with him.
That’s what he did to her.
“Could we just get a spread?” Liliana asked. “A little bit of everything, but nothing extravagant. Just basics.”
“Eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, waffles …”
The guy on the other end of the phone downstairs at the restaurant kept rattling food off like Liliana didn’t understand what basics meant when it came to breakfast foods. Yes, she understood. That’s why she asked for it.
“Make it two or three different kinds of eggs,” Liliana interjected, stopping the guy from saying more. “Buffet-style, okay?”
“That’ll be about an hour.”
“No problem. Thanks.”
At least, that gave Liliana a little bit of time to clean herself up, and try to pull some clothes on to look decent. She didn’t feel like giving anybody but Joe a show. And since he was still sleeping …
She gave him another look.
Yep, still sleeping.
She headed for the bathroom, and shut the door behind her to keep the noise of the shower from filtering out. It took her all of ten minutes—maybe fifteen—to put the shower to use, and then step out to dry off. She had just finished rinsing her toothbrush when she heard the faintest knock echoing from the bedroom.
No way the hour had passed by that quickly.
Maybe it had.
Liliana didn’t even bother to check the clock as she left the bathroom, She headed for the door, and quietly said over her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob, “Joe, get up. Food’s here.”
He didn’t even stir.
Huh.
Maybe it was more than just them fucking like rabbits into the wee hours that put him into such a deep sleep. Maybe it was something like everything going on around them, and the stress he was dealing with. He never complained—never said a thing was wrong, or bad. He just did what he had to do.
And damn …
Liliana loved him for that.
She was coming to learn—although she hadn’t told him yet—that she loved Joe Rossi for a lot of reasons, and for a lot of things.
Most importantly, because he was him.
And he loved her.
“Joe,” Liliana said louder as she pulled open the door.
“Say his name again,” came a low, threatening voice, “and I’ll kill him before he can roll over, Lilibet.”
Lilibet.
It was the nickname first, and the voice second that she recognized. A part of her didn’t want to turn and face the man waiting behind the door because the idea of facing him again when he wasn’t even supposed to know where she was terrified the hell out of her.
“Look at me,” Rich ordered.
She tore her gaze away from Joe.
Not because she wanted to, but because she needed to keep Rich’s attention away from him for now. That much she was most sure of. On a fucking cellular level, Liliana knew she was in trouble, and so was Joe.
So much trouble.
Bad all the way around the board.
“Rich,” Liliana greeted.
Kindly, too.
Although how she managed, she wasn’t sure.
He looked the same—still tall, lean, and handsome. His dark hair was a bit more disheveled than usual, but his suit still looked like he pulled it out of a fucking magazine somewhere. His grin seemed warm and welcoming, but Liliana wasn’t so stupid to let that trick her. She knew what overlooking this man could do and bring her way.
He could not be trusted.
But hell, that’s what good looks, money, and a charming smile could do for a fucking monster. It could turn him into someone else entirely—someone the best of people didn’t recognize for what he truly was.
“Step out with me,” Rich said.
He didn’t pose it as a question.
Not an offer, either.
Liliana didn’t move. “You need to leave.”
Rich tipped his head to the side, and that slow smile morphed into something else entirely. Something far more cold, and terrifying. The sneer made her feel like a block of ice in an instant, and her hand on the door tightened in preparation to slam it.
It would give her a second to lock it, maybe.
A moment to do—
“Close the door on me, or make a sound, and this will get far worse. I have people waiting. I will take you by force, and him, too. Make it easy on me,” Rich said like he was offering her something sweet to take between her lips and taste, “and I will leave him here alive. Consider it, Liliana. It’s just you two here—your family isn’t going to protect you today, and certainly not that father of yours.”
The way he said father, like he was spitting it from his mouth, made Liliana cringe. She felt the fear fighting its way up her chest like bile spilling onto the back of her tongue. Not one single part of her wanted to go with him, but what she didn’t know terrified her more.
Did he have people?
It wasn’t just her and Joe to consider, either, because the hotel was full of other guests. How many innocents would be harmed in Rich’s effort to get her away from Joe?
Although, Joe was the most important to her. And nothing was worth him being hurt.
“Also know that should you make this difficult,” Rich added, “I have plans for him, too. Starting with having him watch me fuck you, and depending on how he takes that, we’ll go from there. Good torture takes patience, and skill, after all.”
Rich’s gaze cut back to Liliana, cold and detached in a blink. “So, surprise me, Lilibet, and show me what you’ve learned since our time apart. I’ve been very patient, you see. Waiting for this … don’t disappoint me.”
Jesus.
Liliana stepped out of the hotel room, and closed the door behind her. The form that rushed her from the side the moment the door was closed had a scream rising in her throat. It died in the hand that covered her mouth, and the sharp prick that found her neck.
A needle.
Coldness slipped through her veins. Blackness found her soon after.
“Drink.”
The bottle of water was pushed into Liliana’s hand when she refused to take it from Rich. She squeezed the water tight, and despite her throat being so dry it was protesting in pain, her desire to drink from the straw sticking out of the bottle was little to none. He handed it to her opened, after all.
Who knew what the bastard put in it?
She wasn’t making this easy on him.
A man stood behind him dressed in all black—apparently, the guard for her. Should she run, he was going to be the one coming after her.
Or, that’s what Rich explained.
“It’s just water,” Rich snapped, his exasperation clear.
The condensation on the outside of the bottle wet Liliana’s fingers. The water promised reprieve, and relief. For her throat, aching stomach, and maybe even her pounding head.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Liliana hadn’t forgotten a few tricks about Rich. Like the best way to get the man off one topic was to distract him by making him talk about something else. Even better if that something had to do with him, or something he wanted to do.
It could also calm him down.
Relax him.
“A little place I bought,” he said, smiling again.
That warm smile.
The charming one.
He used it on her the first night they met, and then again right before he almost beat her to death. She hated that fucking smile, and quite frankly, wished someone would cut it off his face, so he couldn’t use it on her or some other poor woman, ever again.
It would be doing the world a favor, really.
Rich leaned closer to where she was sitting with her legs hanging out of the back of the car. The small rest stop and gas station was all but empty save for one or two cars. Nobody was even looking their way.
He reached out, and Liliana forced herself not to move when the tips of his fingers came in contact with her eyebrow. The scar hidden by her eyebrow stung like hell with a phantom pain when he dragged his finger across it, appraising it silently.
“The plastic surgeon did good work, I see,” he noted.
She did tense at that statement.
Rich moved fast—and harsh—when his hand moved from her brow, down to her chin. He grabbed tightly to her face and his fingernails dug into her skin hard enough to either break the skin, or bruise. He forced her to look at him, and that smile of his had been replaced by a thin, grim line.
“Smile, Lilibet.”
Liliana couldn’t.
“Smile,” Rich demanded again, “and stop the sulking. You know I hate it when you fucking sulk like a baby.”
She swallowed hard.
And smiled.
Her best fuck-you-smile.
Rich couldn’t tell the difference. “Well done. Aren’t you curious at all?”
“About what?”
The only thing she really gave a shit about right now was getting the fuck away from him, and then making sure he never came back for her again. She had never wished for someone to die as much as she was willing it for this man in front of her.
“How I found you,” Rich said.
“Not particularly.”
Rich scowled, and tipped his head to the side. A warning if Liliana ever saw one. She was not interested in getting his desires beaten into her, so she decided to play along. If only for a few minutes, and maybe it would keep them in place for a while longer.
That way, they were standstill, and not still on the move.
It was something.
“You know what, yeah,” Liliana said. “How did you find me?”
“It started with him, actually,” Rich replied.
He couldn’t even say Joe’s name. Liliana could practically feel Rich’s jealousy and disgust radiating from his body. It was a dangerous game to play with him because the wrong step or word would find her bleeding on the backseat of the car while he forced her to apologize.
She’d done that before.
She wasn’t doing it again.
Rich didn’t seem to notice Liliana’s distraction because he was too busy talking about all his amazing accomplishments where she was concerned, and his disconcerting obsession with having her back.
Surprise, surprise.
“And so yes, I had been watching you for a good while—a year, or so,” Rich said. “From the moment that bastard let you out of the limo, I had been keeping an eye on you … waiting.”
The driver, he meant.
Liliana swallowed her discomfort. “He was trying to help me, Rich.”
Rich’s gaze cut back to her, silencing her instantly. “Yes, and his help earned him an early grave. He had no business stepping in, and worked for our family long enough to know his place.”
Jesus Christ.
This man was sociopathic.
He waved a hand, adding, “And then I noticed you had a … friend. The first one since me, it seemed. Here I was thinking you were pining over me, but no, you were just biding your time before you skipped off to play the whore again.”
Liliana clenched her hands into tight fists, and forced herself to stay quiet. Even though every part of her wanted to tell him to shut his goddamn mouth.
“I saw him on the street with you, and had reports he was going into your building at night. Showed up at your shows, and even visited your family. The charity event was my final straw—I needed to know who he was, so I … had someone look into him, we’ll say.”
Nothing had been safe, she realized.
All of her father’s plans, while possibly not known to Rich, had been being crept on from behind anyway.
“Joe Rossi—Chicago, affiliated to the mob,” Rich said dryly, giving Liliana a raised brow. “Color me fucking surprised. Is that what gets you off, darling—you’re a mob whore? A made man gets you hot, and wets your cunt? All you want to be is a fucking mob wife?”
“No,” Liliana whispered.
Because that was not the case at all.
She loved Joe for Joe.
Not because he was mob affiliated.
“Good,” Rich murmured, “because I have far better plans for you. You’re meant to be much, much more, Lilibet.”
Yeah, she bet.
“I had leads put on you, and those around you that I could reach,” Rich said, continuing his little story. “Wires tapped into the phones at the ballet studio, and even paid the girl who makes your bagel and coffee every morning to make a call whenever you came in … or didn’t, for that matter.”
Her heart clenched.
Shit just added up and it was like a light bulb going off in her head.
“Now you get it,” Rich said, grinning again. “You made a call while in Chicago—to Gordo about your dancing. You needed a few weeks, you said. Apologized because you knew how important the upcoming shows would be. He had the stand-in waiting, though. They always have someone to replace you, don’t they?”
“That’s the nature of the business,” she replied, keeping her tone level and emotionless.
“Shame,” Rich muttered, “he should know better, Lilibet. No one can be as captivating as you on that stage. You know that’s what drew me to you, don’t you? The way you danced, and moved. So graceful, and beautiful. Free, really. All I thought about was how I could cage you.”
Don’t respond.
Don’t react.
Don’t give him anything.
Liliana stayed silent.
“Anyway,” Rich said, waving a hand, “I got the call, too, since I had the phones tapped, and the number you called from which was how I knew it was Chicago. Given I already knew about your fancy with the Chicago man, it didn’t take too long to put it all together. It was just shit luck that I showed up in Chicago about an hour late to grab you before he did. Couldn’t get a flight in time, you see?”
“Didn’t think of using a private jet?” she asked.
Rich’s gaze flashed with something Liliana didn’t understand. “If you must know, I thought I had time to spare. My mistake—don’t think I’ll make another.”
Duly noted.
“But I was not so far behind that I couldn’t follow you both, or try,” Rich said, finishing up his tale, “and so here we are. You with me, and him without. I like it better this way. Don’t you?”
Not at all.
And where was Joe?
Had he woken up, yet?
Figured out she was taken?
Or … thought she just left him?
Fingers snapped in front of her face before Rich’s aggravated features clouded her vision. “Are you paying any attention to me at all?”
“Not really, no.”
Honesty was the best policy.
Except in Rich’s case.
His hand came up faster than Liliana expected it to. The slap connected hard with the side of her face, and sent her head spinning to the side, and crashing into the passenger door. Blood bloomed in her mouth, and the coppery taste made her want to puke.
Before, she might have cried.
Asked him to stop.
Begged, even.
Apologized, likely.
Not this time.
No, this time she laughed, and straightened a bit in the seat. She laughed, knowing he was sadistic and easily provoked. She laughed even fully aware that it would only goad him into hitting her again and again until she stopped.
It didn’t matter.
Because she kept laughing.
Rich’s narrowing gaze left her for a brief moment as he tried to right himself, but that was his fucking mistake. Liliana bolted out of the back seat, and launched herself at him. Her fist connected with his mouth at the same time her other hand ranked bleeding lines down the side of his face.
“Don’t touch me, you bastard,” she hissed.
She was kicked back into the car by the guard who decided to step in two seconds too late.
Rich leaned in right after, hovering above Liliana with a bleeding mouth, and a sore-looking face. It terrified her, but it also brought her the greatest sense of satisfaction, too. She never would have fought back before, fearing it would only get worse.
It was probably still going to get worse.
She didn’t care.
She wasn’t lying down like a dog for this man.
She wasn’t his bitch.
“Keep those surprises coming,” Rich murmured, blood staining his teeth, “they get me hard, Lilibet. And you remember what my cock feels like when it’s hard, and I’m shoving it into one of your holes, don’t you? It’s been too long since you got a taste—too bad you’re going to have to wait.”
Rich slammed the door.
Liliana kicked it right after.
Fuck him; fuck all of him.
And fuck his stupid nickname, too.
She hated that nickname.
“Welcome home, my queen.”
Liliana looked up from her hands to see a gate opening to allow them entrance to a long, twisting driveway that led up to what looked like quite an estate. She didn’t recognize the place, and since Rich had forced a hood over her head for long portions of the drive when he became sick of talking to her, she really had zero fucking idea where she was.
She might have been impressed by the estate were it anyone else showing it to her, but instead, all Liliana could really feel in those moments was a heavy sense of dread settling into her stomach. She didn’t know where she was. The estate was quite private, by the looks of it. Several guards stood around the property as the car was parking.
How in the hell was she going to get out of this one?
“A home fit for a queen,” Rich said.
Queen, like the Lilibet thing. Actually, that’s how he came up with that stupid fucking nickname. She despised people calling her Lily—kids used to tease her when she was younger because of her brother. They said Johnathan was crazy when he acted out, and then stories spread like wildfire. They’d call her Silly Lily, and she hated it.
Rich liked Lily.
Instead, he settled on Lilibet, like the old former queen’s nickname, because that’s what he told Liliana she was going to be. His queen.
And then he beat the hell out of her.
“Please stop calling me that,” Liliana muttered.
It was the only thing she could think to say.
Rich passed her a dismissive glance. “What, you’ll wear their princess title, but not the queen’s crown when it’s all but handed to you?”
“It’s principessa,” Liliana uttered, “I am a principessa della mafia and it would do you well to remember that, Rich.”
Except he didn’t care, she knew.
That was half of the problem.
This man believed he was untouchable.
“Get out of the car,” he deadpanned.
Fine.
Whatever got her farther away from him, she was game.
Unfortunately, the second she got out of the vehicle, she was dragged to Rich’s side again. She couldn’t even try to hide the shiver of disgust that wreaked havoc up her spine at the feeling of his hand gripping tight to her waist, never mind the taste of bile growing stronger in her mouth when he kissed the side of her head.
Her fists twitched.
She was going to hit him again.
If he kept that shit up …
“Let me show you around,” he said, “and then you can get yourself familiar with whatever rooms you prefer. It’s all made for you—every room, every floor. All the things I know you love, and things I love to watch you do. For a while, I’m sure it’ll seem like a prison to you while you work out your problems, and we work out our issues, but that’ll pass.”
Their issues.
He expected them to live together, and work out their issues.
“You’re delus—”
“Happy,” he interjected, squeezing her side hard enough for it to hurt. “I am incredibly happy because right now, I have everything I want, Liliana.”
Oh, God.
The disgust was back.
It burned her throat.
“Don’t try to run—you won’t make it far,” Rich told her as they climbed the stairs to the entrance of the large mansion. “And despite what you may think, I don’t like it when you force me to teach you a lesson.”
Liar.
Bastard.
Monster.
“You first,” he sat, patting her on the ass.
The door was opened, and Liliana moved inside. Anything to get the fuck away from him, or at the very least, put a few feet of space between them. It might help her to control herself, if nothing else. She needed to stay alive, after all. Provoking Rich into some kind of physical altercation was not going to keep her alive and breathing until Joe or her father could find her.
Rich took great pleasure in showing Liliana around. It kind of stunned her how a lot of the layout of the place reminded her of her grandparents’ mansion. She had mentioned once to Rich how much she loved their home and how comforting it made her feel when she visited. He’d gone with her once or twice to the Marcello mansion, as well, and clearly hadn’t forgotten anything.
“And I think you’ll like this room quite a bit,” Rich said, turning to face Liliana as he leaned against the wall. Waving at the entryway to the space, he added, “Go ahead, and take a look.”
She peered in.
Her stomach dropped.
It was a dance studio—barres along one wall with floor-to-ceiling mirrors behind them. Large windows covered the other wall. Lights hung from up above, and the brightness made the cherry oak floors gleam.
“I’ve missed watching you dance,” he murmured.
Jesus.
He was right in her ear.
How had he gotten so close?
“Our room is down the hall,” he added, “and you have your own closet full of clothes, shoes, bags, and whatever else your heart might desire. Care to take a look at it with me?”
Like fuck.
She wasn’t stupid enough to put herself in a room with a bed—certainly not with this man, anyway.
“I’d rather not, actually,” Liliana said.
She didn’t tamper her tone, or the disgust. It all came spilling out in that one sentence with those four fucking words.
She should have known better.
She had pressed his patience.
She had tested his good nature enough.
Liliana didn’t even see his fist coming until it was too late, and by the time she realized what was happening, she was being dragged down the hall by the hair on her head. The stinging in her scalp and the ringing in her ears reminded her of being in the backseat of the limo, and she swore it was like her body froze.
Unable to fight.
Unable to breath.
Unable.
And then she did snap out of it just long enough to try and get out of his hold. She kicked and fought, despite the way it probably ripped hair right out of her head from his unrelenting grasp. She clawed marks down his arms, and called him every name she could think of.
It didn’t bother him at all.
He barely reacted.
Like he expected this.
Rich stopped walking long enough to throw Liliana inside a room—she got one good look around, and it scared her. Bare mattress on the floor. One blanket, no pillow. Boarded up windows, and no lightbulb in the light hanging from the ceiling.
He stood in the doorway while she laid on the floor, prone and in shock. Her ears were still ringing, too. She bet her face was swollen, or at least, bruised all to hell.
Rich probably liked that.
“Maybe a few days in here will make you more agreeable,” Rich said.
Then, he slammed the door.
Liliana heard the lock twist, too.
She was alone.
It was dark.
He couldn’t see her.
She could be quiet.
At least like this, she was safe.
And finally … finally … she cried.