Libby
MY HEAD WAS POUNDING. THE agonizing beat was made worse when I tried to lurch to my feet, Gabe’s name ripping from my throat like a curse.
I cried out when I was jerked back to the floor. The rattling of chains sounded like trains crashing and reverberating in my skull.
I slowly lifted my hands to cradle my head and flinched when I heard movement in front of me.
I looked up and found aspirin and water next to my feet, and Gabe standing half a dozen feet from me, face hard and impassive as he watched me.
I ignored the first and tried to glare at the second.
The pain had my eyes slipping closed and my head falling back.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to say his name.
I wanted to stand up and face off with him instead of sitting there like a weak, crumpled girl.
All I could do was whisper incoherently. “You can’t . . . no. You’re not a . . . Name is Gabe Anthony. Seen your credit ca—and business card. God, who’re you?”
“Gabriel Anthony Moretti,” he responded smoothly.
No, no, no.
Years of fear and heartache slammed into me, flooding my senses and leaving me lightheaded. Or maybe that was a response from the intense ache.
I dropped my head into my arms.
When he spoke again, there was a bite to his words. “Can’t say I expected to see your hand weighed down with a diamond from a guy who just came back a few weeks ago.”
I stilled.
I hadn’t put my ring back on since the night Maxon left.
It had all been part of making the Moretti family think we were over.
I started to wonder how closely Gabe had been watching me and nearly laughed at the thought.
Everywhere. He’d been everywhere.
Including my apartment. My room. My bed. My damn bathroom.
Of course he’d known we were engaged.
“I’ve been with him all my life.”
An amused huff came from him. “You told me. The rock star who was out getting his dick sucked on the road.”
I looked up and snarled, “You know nothing about him.”
“If you say so.” His expression turned challenging. “You realize you and I had as much of a relationship as you had with him.”
I ground my jaw. “We didn’t have a relationship.”
He slowly walked closer and dropped to a crouch in front of me, placing his hands on the wall behind me so he caged me in. “I’ve been in you until you screamed. We went our separate ways only to come together again. How’s that any different than the two of you?”
“Fuck you.”
He slanted his head and that crooked smile pulled at his mouth. “I have been.” He dipped closer to whisper, “Only difference is, I was here. He wasn’t.” He pushed away from the wall and paced a few steps before turning on me again. “You made a mistake choosing him.”
My mouth was open to say the only mistake I’d made was sleeping with the man in front of me, but I slowly shut it.
I tried to live without regrets, even if my actions cost me ten years away from the man I loved.
Maxon could never be a mistake, but I regretted bringing him into this—deeply.
Mom was right. He would be a casualty, defending him would ensure that.
And there had already been so many . . .
“You were so convincing,” I whispered. “I was worried you’d end up like one of the guys in those pictures. I felt terrible that you were linked to me at all.” I glanced at him and let him see how betrayed I felt. “I wanted to protect you. Then to find out you’re the man I’ve hated all along.”
Gabe cleared his throat and let his gaze fall to the concrete floor.
I’d spent a decade worrying over the Moretti family and praying I’d gotten away from them. And one of them had been there the whole time.
He’d been inside me.
Oh God.
My stomach churned with acid and my chin wavered. “You killed . . . How many men have you killed because of me?”
Gabe’s mouth twitched in frustration. “You really want to know?”
I was afraid I already knew . . . but I had to be sure.
I had to know what I caused.
When I dipped my head in a nod, he said, “All but one.”
A cry clawed out of the recesses of my chest and my head fell into my hands.
“I had to . . .”
“You had to what?” I yelled. “Kill innocent men? Stalk me? What?”
He sent me a placating look then reached for his phone when it chimed. With a frustrated grimace, he glanced around the large room then bent to push the aspirin and water toward me. “I’m sorry about your head. I couldn’t let you know where we were going, and I couldn’t bring you in here conscious.”
“You should’ve brought me in here dead. I will never belong to you.”
“Oh, Libby . . .” A smile broke free, haunting and threatening. “You can’t belong to me if we’ve never met.”
Stunned confusion momentarily replaced my grief and fury.
“You think I ordered the deaths of the men you fucked?” His dark laugh sent chills up my spine.
“What . . . I don’t—” I tried to press into the wall when he leaned in so his mouth was at my ear, but I couldn’t move anywhere he wasn’t.
“You don’t know me, but I know everything about you. Soon, you’ll understand why.” His mouth ghosted across my jaw when he pushed away. His gaze searched me, devouring me in a way that felt more intimate than we had ever been.
As though suddenly some shared nights that had been the epitome of a casual hookup meant more to him.
I suddenly meant more to him.
Like he had a claim on me from nights where we’d remained emotionally detached.
Just before he turned, his mouth twitched, the sight making me choke on my breath. “See you around, Libby.”
The stare, the smirk, the challenge—they said so many things.
For years, he’d been biding his time . . . and now he was done.
He was the hunter staring at his prize.
A predator stalking his prey.
A man ready to fight.
And I’d had the fight all wrong.
I stared in the direction he’d gone for countless seconds before frantically searching the surrounding space for something—anything—to help free me.
But there was nothing.
The lengths of chain securing my hands and feet to the wall were long—a couple feet at least. But the cuffs around each wrist and ankle were so tight they bordered on painful.
One gave the illusion of freedom. One mocked there was no escape.
I grasped the other ends of the cuffs where they were secured to a pipe in the wall and prayed for a weak spot. But before I could test them, a door opened.
I dropped the chains and twisted so my back was to the wall and I was facing the sound of confident footfalls.
Gabe’s parting words had stunned me . . . the man walking toward me floored me.
I’d spent two separate nights with him, and the last one had been years ago. But he wasn’t the kind of guy you forgot. A little dangerous, a lot mysterious.
Same with his name . . . it was unforgettable because it was such an oxymoron for the man himself. He exuded darkness in everything—including the bedroom.
I knew from experience he was the kind of guy you told yourself you would only sleep with once, then years later somehow found yourself slipping away from his extravagant hotel room again.
“What are you—”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
No.
No, no, no.
“Christian.” His name was a breath. A denial. A plea for this not to be happening.
Tension pressed around me like a cocoon. The vaguely familiar sensation prodded at my mind.
Dark.
Heavy.
Wrong.
I risked a quick glance to the other side of the room, where Gabe left through, to see if he had come back. But there was no one.
I looked at Christian when he stopped in front of me. Dread filled my stomach like bricks.
His expression was a mixture of rage and need. “Elizabeth.”
Oh God.
“Always wanted to see you chained and waiting for me.”
A cold sweat broke out across my body.
The dread morphed until I felt like I would either faint or scream until the rage pumping through my veins burned out.
My breaths turned ragged. “You . . .”
His head listed, making him look so much like Gabe that it made me falter until he opened his mouth. “You shouldn’t look surprised. After all, you belong to me.”
I stood up and was thrashing against the chains as soon as the last word left his tongue, trying to get to him and screaming indecipherably.
My head was suddenly heavy and dropped. I stumbled forward, the chains nearly yanking my legs out from under me.
Christian steadied me and walked me to the wall so I could sit, not reacting to my heavy-tongued curses or the way I was attempting to get away from him.
The throbbing was back and worse than when I’d woken, and tears pricked at my eyes as I cradled my head again.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally asked when I no longer felt like I was going to pass out.
“Haven’t you gotten the message yet? You belong to me.”
I slowly lifted my head and tried to focus on him. “I will never belong to you.”
His eyes widened before narrowing. There was so much anger and hatred burning there, making him look unhinged.
Christian suddenly lunged forward and roughly hauled me from the floor. My cry filled the space when he yanked me closer and something in my arm popped.
“You belong to me.” His eyes raked over me as he pressed his body close to mine. “Funny thing about deals . . . they have to be honored. Especially when they’re bound in blood.”
“Fuck your deal,” I cried out.
Using my arm, he slammed me back against the wall and reached for his back pocket.
I made myself stand tall.
Made myself lock my jaw and hold my head high.
But my body nearly crumpled with relief when he pulled out rolled-up papers and threw them at me.
I let them fall to the floor.
“My deal?” he asked in a deceptively soft tone and nodded to the discarded papers. “It’s our deal, Elizabeth. And did you really think some guns and information would be a fair trade?”
My mind whirled to eleven years ago—to what Dare had done to get me out of the deal. The pain racing through my arm had tears flowing freely down my cheeks, but my words were laced with venom. “I’m not something to be traded. I’m not property to be given away.”
“Your old man didn’t feel the same way.”
The jab would’ve had me stumbling backward if I hadn’t already been pressed to the wall.
“When your brother tried to change the contract, my family wanted to come down here and obliterate the Borello name and take you with us when we left. But I urged them to give it time, positive you would still make the right choice. When you didn’t come on your own, I allowed your indiscretions since you already belonged to me. But now it’s time you appreciate what you’ve been given. Me.”
I laughed bitterly. “Appreciate someone who kills innocent men?”
“They touched what belongs to me,” he growled.
“I don’t want to appreciate you. I don’t want a life with you. I don’t want anything from a piece-of-shit Moretti.”
His face fell into a calm so terrifying. “Watch yourself.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Good.” He stepped forward and angled his head so his mouth was just above mine. “Wouldn’t want you afraid of your husband.”
I wanted to scoff at the absurdity of his words.
Remind him the deal had changed.
But I couldn’t move.
I forgot how to breathe.
It was there in his tone. He’d been waiting for this exact moment, to tease me with the secret he’d been sitting on for years and watch my reaction.
His lips brushed against mine when he said, “Let’s educate you.”