by Sarah Morgan
Jessie the prostitute.
Was that really how she looked?
So much for her fantasy about singing to packed stadiums or opera houses.
She was as far removed from that as the average woman singing into her hairbrush. As far removed from that as she was from the man who was now striding round the car to her.
His eyes glittered in the ominous light. Ignoring the rain, Silvio removed his coat and slung it around her shoulders. Pulling it closed, he covered her up, every millimetre of her—as if he couldn’t bear to look. ‘You do realise that this is the last place in the world that any sane woman would choose to come to alone at night?’
The coat overwhelmed her, falling almost to the ground and covering her hands. ‘They tracked me down. I had to move. They don’t know I live here.’ She rolled the sleeves back methodically, trying to find her hands—and then she froze, the truth slamming into her.
He knew she lived here.
Jessie felt her face drain of colour and met his diamond-hard eyes with dawning horror. ‘You didn’t ask for directions.’ Her voice was a cracked whisper. ‘How did you know where to drop me?’
‘I make it my business to know things,’ he said grimly. ‘And if I know, you can be sure that those animals know too. I calculate we probably have less than ten minutes to clear out your things before they get here. Move!’
Chapter Two
THE ground floor.
She was living on the ground floor.
Silvio stood in perfect stillness as she undid the bolts on the door, struggling with anger almost too big to contain. He knew that his ability to control his emotions was one of the things that separated him from those animals they’d left behind, and yet right now he didn’t feel so different from those men. What had she said to him?
I use what God gave me.
Remembering the careless way she’d thrown those words at him, Silvio turned away from her, not trusting himself to speak or even look at her. In his head he was seeing Jessie the child, clinging to her brother and not understanding where her comfortable, familiar life had gone. He couldn’t reconcile that vision of vulnerable innocence with reality—he kept seeing Jessie in the tight gold dress, using what God gave her.
The innocence had gone.
He’d known from the moment he’d taken her mouth and felt her wild, uninhibited response.
Just thinking about it had an immediate impact on his body and Silvio swore in Italian, exasperated by his inability to switch off that part of himself. Knowing that his priority had to be to get her away from here, he inhaled deeply and forced himself to focus on what was important.
Saving her life.
Turning back to her, he saw that she was shivering under his coat, but he knew there was little he could do about that. Even though she sold her favours to men, he knew instinctively that if he touched her now he’d risk adding another bruise to the one already developing on the right side of his face.
It had come as no surprise that she knew how to punch.
He’d taught her.
She undid the last bolt and pushed open the door. ‘There. Home, sweet home. You can go now. Thanks for the ride.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ They were a sitting target in the dimly lit walkway and he wasn’t leaving her there.
Silvio glanced back at the gleaming paint of his black Ferrari, the car as visible and out of place as an alien spaceship in a children’s playground.
‘If you’re worried about your toy, Silvio, just go and play with it,’ she said tartly, gasping as he yanked her back and stepped in front of her. ‘What are you doing? I’m not inviting you in for coffee if that’s what you’re hoping. You had one kiss for free. That’s all you’re getting.’ The bravado hid an ocean of fear and Silvio wondered how long it would take her to admit that she was scared.
‘That kiss saved your life.’ Even it had been at the expense of his own mental stability.
Taking what he assumed to be a last look at his car, Silvio went into the flat first, knowing exactly what he would find.
Much of his childhood had been spent in places exactly like this—bars at the window, locks on the door and a board hammered over the letter box because whatever anyone wanted to post through your door, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a letter.
Being back here was harder than he was prepared to admit, even to himself.
It was dank and small and it took him less than five seconds to reassure himself that no one was inside.
Closing the blinds and securing the front door, he turned with a growl. ‘You shouldn’t be living on the ground floor.’ The moment the words left his mouth he could have bitten his tongue because he of all people should have known why she’d chosen this position.
He pressed his fingers to his temples, tasting regret. Sensitive words didn’t come easily to him but he was fairly sure he could have done better than that if he hadn’t been distracted.
Anticipating her reaction, he cast her a look and she looked straight back at him, her eyes dark pools of defiance.
‘What? If you’re waiting for me to crumble, Silvio, you’re going to be waiting a long time. I’m tough as nails.’
Silvio shook his head in disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh or strangle her. ‘There isn’t time for you to crumble,’ he said evenly. ‘You’ve got five minutes to pack anything that’s important to you. Then we’re leaving.’ A flash of gold dress and creamy skin knocked the words out of his brain and he looked away quickly. The fact that he needed to do so told him just how close to the edge he was.
On reflection, he wished he’d found another way to secure her safety other than by kissing her.
Never before in his life had he had such a slippery grip on control and he knew that if he saw her in that outrageously sexy dress he’d start thinking of all those men looking at her…
How many of them had had their hands on her?
And why had he waited three years to come looking for her? Why had he thought she’d be better without him in her life?
Apparently unaware of his torment, she reached into a cupboard. The coat slipped from her shoulders and the movement of her body gave him a flash of suspender belt. And something else.
With a soft curse Silvio stepped forward and stuck his hand up her dress, ignoring her outraged gasp. He stepped back with the knife in his hand, his mood so dangerous that he didn’t trust himself to be close to her.
‘Maledezione, what is this?’
‘It’s a knife.’ Her gaze challenged him. ‘You should know—it isn’t as if you haven’t seen one before.’
‘You shouldn’t be carrying this.’ His fingers toyed with the blade, the glint of metal winking at him mockingly. ‘If I hadn’t turned up when I did…’
‘I would have used it if I had to.’
Thinking about what would have happened if she’d produced a knife sent ice through his veins.
He’d almost lost her.
A chorus of vicious barking from outside the flat reminded him that they had no time for reflection or recrimination and Silvio slipped the knife into his pocket and retrieved his coat from the floor.
‘Find yourself a coat that fits. I assume you have one. And hurry up.’ He wondered whether he’d been foolish to allow her to come here, but then he reminded himself that they needed her passport.
‘I don’t understand the hurry. It’s going to take me more than five minutes to find somewhere new to live. This is premium property, Silvio—not easy to come by.’ Pulling open a cupboard, she removed a mug and waved it at him. ‘Water? I can’t offer you coffee—they turned the gas and electric off last week.’
‘You’ve just lost thirty seconds of packing time,’ Silvio ground out, prowling to the window and staring into the badly lit concrete walkway that led to the flats. The area made him shiver.
How many times had she risked her life crossing that litter-strewn concrete desert late at night?
‘I take it that’s a
no.’ With a careless shrug, she put the mug down on a small table and Silvio glanced back at her, frowning as he saw the red bruising on her knuckles.
‘I’d forgotten about your hand.’
‘My hand is fine. How’s your face?’
‘My face is fine.’ Struggling with emotions he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, Silvio crossed to the small fridge and yanked it open, glaring with disbelief at the empty shelves. ‘What do you eat?’
‘I usually eat out,’ Jessie said blithely, her slender frame telling a different story. ‘I can’t get through the week without dining in at least one Michelin-starred restaurant.’
Ignoring her sarcasm, Silvio reminded himself that his priority was getting her out of this place, not sorting out deficiencies in her diet. ‘Where’s the freezer compartment?’
‘No freezer compartment. You’ll just have to take your gin and tonic without the ice. Sorry for any inconvenience.’
If the situation hadn’t been so urgent he would have admired her courage.
Or maybe it was just that she didn’t know how much danger she was in.
And then she switched on another light and he saw the dark shadows under her eyes.
She knew.
The fact that she was frightened dug deep into his gut. Her life choices were coming back to haunt her and regret sliced through him because if he’d been here, everything would have been different.
He’d thought that leaving was the best thing he could do for her. Now he saw it had been the worst.
‘That’s another minute wasted,’ he drawled softly. ‘Never mind—the ice will have to wait until we’re at my place.’ The bruising on her hand would be worse but he’d have to find some other way of dealing with it. It was better than this nervous tension.
‘I’m not going with you, Silvio.’ She turned on the tap, filled the mug full of water and drank thirstily. But the hand holding the mug was shaking. ‘Get out of my life.’
‘I did that once before. It didn’t work out so well, did it?’
‘It worked perfectly for me.’
‘I’m back in your life, Jessie, whether you like it or not.’
‘You can’t afford me, Silvio. You might be rich but I’m out of your league.’ Her allusion to her dubious lifestyle stoked his anger. He wanted to push her up against the wall and demand to know why she’d allowed this to happen. He wanted to know why it had all gone so wrong. But he knew the answer to that one.
He was responsible. Because of him, she’d given up caring. Because he’d allowed her to send him away, he hadn’t been able to protect her.
Guilt crashed down on him and he heaved it away, knowing it to be a poor friend—a stifling, useless weight that achieved nothing. Keep moving forward—wasn’t that how he’d lived his life?
‘Another thirty seconds gone. I hope you travel light.’ Silvio prowled back to the window and lifted the blinds just enough to give him visual access.
The first thing he noticed was that a small crowd had gathered around his car. The second was that a battered black van with no lights had pulled up at the far end of the street.
He swore in Italian. ‘You’re out of time, Cinderella. Get your passport.’
‘I’ve told you—I’m not going with you.’
‘Now!’ He thundered the word and saw her flinch. ‘Before both our brains are splattered over your wall. Move!’
‘I—’
‘So help me, Jess, my reputation will only protect us for so long. After that we need something a little more concrete. If you say one more word I’ll shoot you myself.’ Distracted by the neckline of her gold dress, he was finding it hard to concentrate. ‘Get your passport!’
‘I don’t have a passport! You’re the one who joined the jet set, not me!’ She yelled the words at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes defiant. ‘Why would I need a passport? International travel isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities.’
Acutely conscious of the vulnerability revealed by that statement, Silvio hunted for a sensitive response but in the end resorted to practicality. ‘I’ll get you a passport.’
‘I’ve told you, I’m not—’
‘You come of your own free will or I carry you,’ he growled thickly. ‘Your choice.’
‘You call that a choice?’ A car door slammed and she jumped. Her eyes flew to his and he saw her terror.
‘Discussion over.’ He grabbed her wrist but she dug her heels in.
‘Wait—there’s something I need…’ Wrenching her wrist out of his grip, she scrambled onto the rickety table and removed a shoebox from a cupboard.
Averting his eyes from another flash of stocking and smooth thigh, Silvio stared through the blinds and saw the van doors open. Six of them. The same six.
Pulling out his phone, he made a call, the exchange of words taking all of five seconds to complete.
Seeing Jessie teetering on the table, he reached out and swung her down. He tried to take the shoebox from her but she snarled at him like a lioness protecting a litter of cubs, clutching the box so tightly that her fingers were white and the lid of the box crumpled slightly.
‘Whatever is in that box, it isn’t worth risking your life for,’ he thundered, but he let her keep the box. ‘Does the bathroom window open? Is there a way out of the back?’ He knew there would be, because there was no way Jessie would live anywhere that didn’t have several exits.
‘This way.’ She vanished through a door and Silvio followed her, bumping his head on the doorframe and squashing inside the tiny bathroom he’d seen briefly when he’d checked for intruders. There was barely room for one of them, let alone two.
She wasn’t coming back here, he promised himself savagely as she pushed up the window and dropped silently onto the grass, the movement affording him another glimpse of her gorgeous legs. He was going to make sure of it.
He followed her through the window, grabbed her hand and hauled her back towards the front of the building.
She dug her heels in. ‘Not that way. They’re waiting for us.’
‘They’ve gone in the front.’ Hearing the splintering of wood, Silvio scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards the car just as the sound of police sirens split the air. She was still clutching the shoebox and her hair brushed against his cheek, the scent sending a thousand forbidden memories skimming across his senses.
‘What’s in that damn box, Jess?’
‘Stuff. Silvio, drop me and get out of here…’ Her voice cracked and she struggled in his arms. ‘You don’t want to be involved in this. You don’t need those headlines in your fancy new life. Leave me.’
It was his first glimpse of the real Jessie—kind, caring Jessie, the terrified, frightened girl he’d met when he’d still been a wild teenager making all the wrong choices. ‘I’m not leaving you again, Jess. Get used to it. And with a background like mine it’s a bit late to worry about what the media are going to write.’ He unlocked the Ferrari with the press of a button and dropped her and her precious shoebox onto the passenger seat.
The movement was too much for the cheap gold dress and the seam split, testing his restraint by exposing a generous section of bare midriff and the shimmer of sexy underwear.
Deciding that he would rather have faced a gun, Silvio recoiled and slammed the door.
Without looking over his shoulder, he slid behind the wheel and accelerated away from his past, keeping his eyes fixed forward.
Something soft was pressed against her cheek and she felt deliciously warm. If this was heaven, it was a great place.
‘Jess?’ A rough male voice came from nearby. ‘Jessie, can you hear me?’
Jessie assumed she was supposed to respond but she was just too warm and comfortable to move and anyway the voice sounded angry and she preferred to stay in the protective clouds of sleep where nothing could touch her.
‘Maledezione, I should have removed that wet dress. She’s been asleep for too long.’
‘Could be shock
, boss. And she’s warm enough under the blanket.’ Another voice, this one deferential. ‘Do you want me to call the doc?’
‘No, not yet.’ The hard voice again. The angry one. Only this time there was a hint of something else in those steely tones.
Worry?
Had she really slept that long?
Surely not. She never, ever slept.
She only ever dozed, kept awake by her tormented thoughts and the ever-present threat of danger.
Drifting in that blissful land between sleep and wakefulness, Jessie realised that she’d slept because she’d felt secure. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she knew she was safe.
Jessie opened her eyes and met his. Her heart emptied itself into that one, single look and she saw the answering flare of awareness in his eyes. There wasn’t a sound in the room, nothing but the hammering of her heart and his sharp, indrawn breath.
And then she remembered.
She remembered why she couldn’t feel this way.
He withdrew from her instantly, the hardening of his mouth the only indication that he’d read her thoughts.
‘There’s a bathroom through that door.’ His tone was neutral and he gestured to an archway. ‘Dressing room through there. Help yourself to anything that fits. When you’ve freshened up, we’ll talk.’
‘Dressing room?’ Jessie sat up, realising that the warmth and comfort had been delivered by an opulent velvet throw in a rich shade of aubergine. Underneath she was still wearing the minuscule gold dress and next to her was the shoebox. With a rush of relief, she curled her fingers over it, pulling it closer.
Silvio watched her for a long, disturbing moment and then a man appeared in the doorway and he glanced towards him. ‘Yes?’
‘Chief Inspector Warren on the phone. Says it’s urgent.’
‘I’ll call him back.’ Silvio turned back to her and Jessie stared at him in disbelief.
‘You were the one who called the police?’
‘That’s what they’re there for, Jess. Dealing with crime. I need to return this call.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘If you need anything, shout. I’ll be outside.’