by Sarah Curtis
She licked her lips. "Just let me inform him you're here, Mr..." Her hand reached for the phone.
Nico's hand covered hers before she could lift the receiver. "That won't be necessary."
Her hand flinched under his, and her eyes grew wide as she tried to discreetly slide it away.
Frankie, growing impatient, stepped up to Nico's side. Nico laid a restraining hand on his arm before giving the blonde another tight smile. "Mr. Scott's office?"
He didn't need to ask again. She tipped her head. "Through the door behind you. His office is the double doors at the end of the hall."
His men entered Scott's office ahead of him, and he heard a gruff voice ask, "Who the fuck are you?"
Nico crossed the threshold and came into view. The straightening of Scott's spine and the widening of his eyes told Nico all he needed to know. "I guess introductions aren't needed."
Movement to Nico's right had his gaze swinging that direction. His body stilled. His heart stopped for a few beats, the last breath he'd inhaled didn't leave his lungs, and all thoughts of Scott ceased to exist.
Stunning. The word floated through his addled brain as his eyes locked onto the woman sitting at an angle on the leather couch, her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands neatly folded in her lap. Her petite form was packaged in a tacky, red dress that displayed far too much of her smooth, creamy skin. A woman that beautiful deserved to be decked in diamonds and furs.
His fingers itched to dive into her rich brown hair that cascaded like a waterfall in waves down her back, its long length nearly reaching her ass. Her head swiveled at his entrance. He was instantly captivated by her face even through its heavy coating of makeup. His eyes, first drawn to her full, lush lips, traveled up over a small pert nose to clash with her eyes. And that's where his stopped, held spellbound. A brown so light they were golden and shone just as bright, he'd never seen eyes that color and assumed it had to be a trick of the light.
He lost her eyes when Travis Scott spoke again and she turned her head back Scott's direction. "What the fuck do you want?"
Again, Nico wondered if the guy was stupid or brave as he took a step farther into the room, spearing Scott with a glare. The man swallowed and shrank back into his chair, trapped in the cold, dark depths of his eyes.
"Now, is that any way to speak to a guest?" Nico felt the weight of the woman's gaze, but this time refused to look her direction. She might have caused an uncharacteristic lapse in his attention once, taking him by surprise, but not again. When doing business, he was all business. He couldn't allow distractions. Not if he wanted to stay alive.
"You ain't no fucking guest," Scott barked. "Guests are invited and don't barge in unannounced."
Nico was growing tired of the guy's attitude.
"Boss?" From the tone of Marco's voice, so was he.
Time to teach this fucker a lesson in manners. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his knife, holding it down at the side of his leg. He didn't make a big show of it, but Scott was aware he'd extended the blade—the telltale click hard to mistake.
"You think I'm scared of a little blade?" Scott asked bravely, though Nico noticed he'd gone a little pale.
Nico shrugged, "I don't really give a shit what you think. All that matters is what I know."
"Yeah, and what's that?"
Nico was going to wipe that sneer off the fucker's face. But he didn't want to kill the guy, at least not yet. He wanted to play with him first. Ruin him. Make his life miserable. But even as patient as Nico was, this guy was pressing his buttons. "That I can kill you is less than three seconds with my little blade."
Again, the guy's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but he put on a bold act. "I've got friends in high places."
"Well now, isn't that a coincidence." Nico took a step closer to the desk while twirling the knife through his fingers and noticed a bead of sweat run down the side of Scott's face. "Because so do I."
Nico's men moved to either side of Scott, and he finally gave up his fearless act. "Listen." He raised his hands in pleading fashion. "Just tell me why you're here. I'm sure we can work something out."
Nico smirked. "That's better. See how nice it is to be polite?" He saw Scott's expression harden but he remained silent. Good, he was learning. "Get rid of the broad."
Scott's eyes darted to the couch then back, and he gave his head a small shake. "No. The girl stays."
"Hiding behind a woman's skirt? You think having her here will protect you?"
"She needs to stay."
Nico looked back over at the woman, his brow furrowing as he wondered who she was and her importance. He moved around the desk, Frankie stepping out of the way so he could come in close so Scott couldn't miss any of his words. "Not sure what the side operation you've got going on here is, but it's done. You don't heed my warning, I'll make you done." Nico placed the tip of his blade on the guy's jugular and pressed just hard enough to draw blood. "And believe me, you won't like the way I'll do that. I'll send you on the same vacation I sent your friends."
Nico turned away from the desk and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Take the girl and let's go."
"You can't do that," Scott shouted.
Nico stopped, turning back just far enough to see Scott trying to surge up from his chair, but Marco and Frankie were holding him down with a hand to each of his shoulders. "Watch me." Nico's gaze cut to the woman. "Come."
She looked at Scott, who still struggled to stand, then back at Nico, clearly unable to make a decision.
Nico was pissed and knew it showed on his face, so he lightened his tone. "I'll make this easy for you. Come or he dies."
She rose to her feet but hesitated when Scott shouted, "No! He'll kill me if you take her."
Nico wasn't sure who the "he" was that Scott spoke of, but said anyway, "Then you'll do as I say and the woman won't get hurt." He looked at his men, giving them a nod.
Marco pulled out his gun, raised it, then smashed the butt against Scott's temple. Nico didn't know the extent of Scott's operation, but he planned to find out.
Meanwhile, he'd have the girl .
Chapter Two
In the back of the black town car she'd been unceremoniously whisked into, Olivia sat on the plush seat, staring forward at the driver and trying to ignore the hulking man who sat on her left. They were big, fearsome men. Both were clean cut and wearing stylish black suits. The man beside her was all dark with black hair, olive skin, and classic Italian features, while his counterpart was fairer, with light-brown hair and golden skin, but still shared his partner's characteristics only more subdued—the sharp lines dulled into softer features. Everything about them screamed mob if one knew what to look for, and unfortunately, Olivia knew.
Her brain was scrambled at her sudden change of circumstances, leaving her with a sense of panic at the unknown and distressed over who she'd left behind. She glanced wistfully at the door handle, already knowing it wouldn't open from her failed attempt at escape when she'd first been put into the car. Even knowing it had some kind of a child lock engaged, she still fought the urge to try again. She was well and truly snagged.
Travis had been no help. Why she was made to use his office for protection when she was hardly protected, was a mystery. Ana, the receptionist, had been even less help. Being led through the lobby sandwiched between two burly men, each with a meaty hand on her arm, her eyes had pleaded with Ana's when she'd passed by her desk and yelled for her to call nine-one-one.
Of course she didn't. And deep down Olivia knew she wouldn't either. To Ana, Olivia was a nobody, and her ass would be on the line if she had brought cops into their midst.
The two men
were eerily silent, neither having uttered a word in the ten minutes she'd been cooped up with them even though she'd spent the first five bombarding them with questions. In fact, after the boss guy had spoken to her back at Travis's office, that had been the last time she'd been addressed by any of the men.
And there'd been no mistaking the tallest of the three was the leader. Olivia had known it the second he'd walked through the door. There'd been an air about him she didn't quite know how to describe. It wasn't just authority she'd felt radiating off him but an all-encompassing power, full of strength, energy, and command. She'd known right away he was a man used to getting his way and having his orders followed. And she'd gotten all that from just a look. His actions after had only confirmed her assessment.
His power hadn't been the only thing she'd noticed when he'd first walked in. Darkness. The darkness of him and that surrounded him had caught her attention and had made her feel something she'd never felt before. Something that had caused her nipples to harden and a tingle to form between her thighs. Then when his dark eyes had clashed with hers, heat had raced through her veins and shivers had slid down her spine. She'd felt flushed and chilled all at once. Growing up the way she had, she wasn't naive to what went on between a man and a woman, but she was inexperienced in the feelings a man could evoke in one.
Travis's shout had broken her spell. Had pulled her back to reality and the circumstances of her real life. A life that didn't include a hot Italian mobster. Or at least not the one she'd just been staring at.
They jolted to a stop, pulling her from her thoughts. A man was jaywalking in front of their car, his fist hitting the hood as he passed. The driver threw off his seat belt.
"Don't." The deep and booming voice of the man beside her, involuntarily pulled her eyes his direction. "Important cargo. We can't get distracted."
The driver grunted, refastening his belt before hitting the gas.
She looked out the window, wanting to keep track of her surroundings for when she made her escape. And she would escape, she had someone depending on her that was too important for her not to. She didn't have a plan yet, not knowing what circumstances were in store for her, but she was resourceful, and as soon as an opportunity arose, she'd take it.
She could tell they were driving down the southern portion of the strip by the quality of hotels they passed. Gone was the seedier section of Vegas, with random graffiti and XXX fliers blowing on the breeze, replaced by glitzy-glam and sidewalks stuffed full with tourists.
They took a left off the strip and drove through increasingly richer neighborhoods until they stopped at a large gate set into a ridiculously high brick wall. Overgrown ivy covered the stone, and the only thing visible over the wall were large trees back at a distance too far away to be helpful for escape.
The driver pushed a small button on the dashboard, activating the gates, and she counted the seconds it took for them to separate enough for the car to fit through. Every detail was important.
The house came into view as they passed through the gates. Big and imposing, it literally took her breath away. She'd never seen anything so grand in real life, and it put all the fancy houses she'd seen on TV to shame. The driveway took a turn, veering from the front of the house to a separate large structure she soon learned was a detached garage, which already housed six cars with room for more.
The driver turned off the car and got out, coming around to her side. The guy sitting next to her stayed put until his buddy opened her door. Before he could reach in a grab her, she stepped out of the car. She wouldn't cause any waves... yet. Meek and pliable were her new middle names until she figured out what they wanted with her or she was given the chance to escape. Whichever came first.
So far, she hadn't been threatened. From what she'd gathered from the conversation in Travis's office, she was being used as leverage. And leverage needed to stay alive. At least until it was no longer useful. She hoped that time didn't come until she found a way out.
Olivia was taken to a beautifully decorated bedroom and locked behind a solid oak door. Still, no words had been spoken to her. She parted the lacy curtains and gazed out into a sprawling backyard that extended farther than her eyes could see. Swimming pool, guesthouse, tennis court, and even a small golf course were just a few things she could see from her bird's eye view. She also saw there was no escape from her prison. No balconies, latticework, or even siding niches marred the backside of the house. The knot in the pit of her stomach grew tighter. Fear of the unknown coupled with her seclusion had all kinds of grim thoughts racing through her mind.
Stepping back from the window, she inspected the room. Sparse of furniture, a tall, four-poster bed with an attached gauze canopy was the dominating feature. A waist-high dresser with a matching mirror and a small loveseat decorated in the same floral material as the bedspread were the only other pieces. The thickly piled carpet was the same shade of beige as the walls, which held a smattering of framed Victorian styled prints. The room had obviously been decorated with a woman in mind. Olivia was taken by surprise by the unwanted and highly inappropriate rush of disappointment she felt at the idea the man who'd so intrigued her might be spoken for.
She chastised herself for daydreaming about a man she should fear. Knowing nothing about him or his intentions, made her thoughts foolish and silly. She blamed it on hormones and the reaction she had to the man—a reaction she'd never had before—like a teenage girl with a crush. Except, she hadn't been a typical teenager nor had she gone to high school. Homeschooling and ferociously reading had been her mother's choice for her education.
Continuing her inspection, she noted the room had four doors. The large double doors, she knew led to the hall. The other three were a mystery. She assumed one led to a bathroom and discovered she was correct when the second door she tried—after discovering the first revealed a large walk-in closet—opened into a grand two-room master bath. Marble gleamed and fixtures shined, being hit with the last rays of light beaming in from a large picture window. A tub that looked as if it could hold four people took up one wall, while a separate glassed in shower took up part of another. And in the far corner was an enclosed toilet area. In awe, she realized the bathroom was larger than her whole dorm-style room back home.
She had one last door to explore. She crossed the bedroom and was about to reach for the doorknob when she heard a voice behind her.
"Signorina?"
Olivia spun on her heel, her hand flying to her chest. "Oh, my goodness. You startled me," she said to the woman who stood before her. She was somewhere in her fifties, Olivia guessed from the gray running through her black hair that was swept into a tight bun and the few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, which was currently set in a firm, stern line.
"That door is off limits." She placed a pile of folded clothes on top of the dresser.
Olivia looked toward the bedroom entrance. A man leaned, arms crossed, in the open doorway. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, he didn't look Italian. He gave her a smile, and when their eyes met, he winked. Looking away, she asked the woman, "Where does it lead?"
"That's not your concern."
Olivia realized the woman was leaving and quickly said, "Wait! How long will I be locked in here?"
The woman stopped, looking over her shoulder, and Olivia thought she saw a trace of compassion in her expression. "I'm sorry, signorina, but I don't have an answer for that."
She slipped out of the room. The blond gave Olivia one last smile before reaching for the door and sealing her, once more, alone in the room. No better off than she was a few minutes ago.
She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest for warmth. The air conditioning was set too low for the scant amount of clothing she wore. She eyed the clothes on the dresser, but before she went to investig
ate, her curiosity got the best of her, and she tried the handle on the forbidden door. No surprise, it was locked. Admitting defeat—at least for now—she went to inspect the clothes, hoping for something warm.
She wasn't expecting men's garments—black sweats and a solid black t-shirt. She looked down at the dress she wore—a dress she'd gotten from a communal closet—and couldn't wait to be rid of it. She snatched the clothes off the dresser and headed to the bathroom.
She emerged an hour later freshly showered. All the product was shampooed from her hair, leaving it squeaky clean, and the makeup was scrubbed from her face. The men's clothes swam on her slight frame—the t-shirt hanging to mid-thigh and the waistband on the sweats rolled over twice with the attached string tied as tight as possible so they wouldn't fall down. She hadn't been wearing a bra, and she somehow felt more exposed in the non-revealing, baggy t-shirt than she had in her dress with its snug bodice that had supported the weight of her breasts.
With nothing to do and exhaustion pulling at her limbs though it was still early evening, she crawled onto the bed. Positioning herself in the center, she lay back and closed her eyes. The room was completely silent—something she wasn't used to—and she found herself slightly unnerved by it.
Worry, her constant companion, took over her thoughts and though she was tired, she couldn't still her racing mind. How many days could she be gone before all hell broke loose? Was Travis trying to find a way to get her back? Or worse, had he informed Carmine of the situation? And if so, did he plan to do something?
All questions she didn't have the answers to, and it didn't look like she'd be getting them anytime soon in her current predicament, leaving her feeling antsy. Somewhere in the room a cricket started to chirp, breaking the deathly silence. Olivia found comfort rather than annoyance in the monotonous song and soon found herself drifting. The final image behind her closed eyes before she succumbed to sleep? A too handsome, dark-eyed gangster.