He gives me the address of his warehouse, and I head over there. When I arrive, I'm greeted by my uncle and his friends, and they invite me to have a drink with them. As much as I want to be in and out, I know it will be disrespectful to my uncle if I do that. So to appease them, I stay for the first round of drinks.
It's almost five hours later that I convince them that I am indeed in a hurry, and they reluctantly let me go–with enough ammo to last me a month. A while later, I arrive at my boat.
The yacht has a bedroom with ensuite bathroom, a kitchen and a living room. While the surface isn't that big, it has all the comforts, and it runs extremely smoothly. I'd used it a few times before to sojourn on the Mediterranean.
It's also my sanctuary when I visit this side of the country. No one's ever been on my boat, and as long as I'm alive, no one ever will.
I carry the weapons inside the living room before stocking up the kitchen with the groceries I'd bought.
When everything's done, I start the engine.
Chapter Three
"DEAR GOD, WHAT'S HAPPENING?" I mutter to myself, panic taking hold of me. The noise from the engine makes me flinch and I jump up, banging my head into the trapdoor.
A quick glance at my watch tells me I overslept, and it's almost ten. God, I'm never going to make it back on time, am I? And the boat? Where is it going?
I slowly raise the trapdoor up, and I sneak a peek on deck. It's almost dark outside, so I can't make out who's there. I squint when I see some movement, but when a figure moves towards me I drop the door down and I curl into a fetal position.
"Please ignore me." I whisper a prayer, hoping whoever it is won't find me. But that's the crux of the problem. If I don't tell them I'm on board, where will they take me? My eyes widen in realization. Who knows where the boat is going... and with me in it.
"God..." I say just as the trapdoor is snatched open, a flashlight glaring aggressively at me. I instinctively close my eyes, the light too strong.
"And who might you be?" A harsh voice asks, the polished Sicilian accent surprising me. I slowly open one eye, and then a second, my mouth forming an o as I stare into the most beautiful face I've ever seen in my life.
That should be illegal.
Even in the darkness of the night, I can make out the strong contours of his face, the chiseled cheekbones and the sharp jaw. His nose is straight, yet it seems to curve up slightly at the tip. It suits the rest of him, imposing yet gentle. But then there are his eyes, a deep shade of green that I have to blink twice to make sure it's not the artificial light playing a trick on my eyes.
I swallow hard, and as I continue my perusal; I feel something in my stomach. It's a ticklish feeling, but not at all unpleasant. My eyes settle on his lips, so thick and full, and I lick my own in response.
He can't be real.
I repeat that to myself all over again, because really, no one can look that beautiful. I may have had limited contact with outsiders, but even I can recognize perfection when I see it.
"Are you done staring, kiddo?" He asks, amused. His lips curl upwards in a slight smile, and my heart reacts by beating in an odd rhythm.
"I... I'm sorry?"
He raises an eyebrow at me.
"For trespassing or for staring?"
I take a second to think, the conversation wholly outside my comfort zone.
"Both?" I ask tentatively, and he chuckles.
"Come," he extends his hand to me, and for some reason I grab onto it. "let's get you up and you can tell me what prompted you to stowaway on my ship."
He pulls me up, and I struggle to hold on to my bag. As I step up, the book falls onto the ground, the cover with the naked man face up. Mortification burns at my cheeks as the man stoops down to pick it up.
"Interesting choice," he comments, but doesn't return it to me. He doesn't let go of my hand as he guides me down some stairs and into one of the most luxurious rooms I've ever seen. My skin is tingling where it touches his, my small hand swallowed in his huge one. And when he finally lets go, I feel bereft.
"Sit." He motions me towards a couch, and I do as I'm told. Maybe if I explain my circumstances, he will understand.
With that thought in mind, I watch as he settles in the chair across from me, his arms folding over his chest, the same amused expression still on his face.
And what a face.
I shake my head twice, trying to dispel those intruding thoughts. The priority is to get back to the shore and pedal home.
"Want to tell me what a," he starts, his gaze scanning my form, "teenage boy is doing on my boat at this hour? Did you run away from home, kiddo?"
The moment the words register in my mind, I realize what he's seeing. A boy... a teenage boy. I sigh in relief, since I've heard that men aren't always kind to women. Lia's often told me that it's better to be sheltered than left alone into the world with no protection.
"I..." What should I even say? "I was playing hide and seek with some friends and I fell asleep." I quickly make up the lie, deepening my voice to sound like a boy.
"Hmm," he slaps the book on the table, "playing hide and seek, or just hiding so you could read that?" He looks at me expectantly and I gulp down, put on the spot.
"I was curious." I shrug.
He laughs, shaking his head.
"Don't be ashamed, kiddo. You're at that age," he pauses, a frown marring his features before changing the topic. "Your parents must be worried, why don't you give them a call?" He takes out a phone from his pocket, throwing it at me. I barely catch it, and I stare at it in wonder.
I've never used a mobile phone before, but even so, I have no one to call.
"Erm... I don't know the number." More lies. "How far away are we from the shore? Can you turn the boat around? I parked my bike around the docks. I'll just go home straight away." I plead him with my eyes as I say this.
I don't even know what's going to happen to me. The guards may have already spotted me and I clearly won't make it back by midnight as I'd promised Lia.
Lia! What will she think?
"We left the port thirty minutes ago," he pauses, gazing at me. "I wish I could help you kiddo, but I'm on a schedule." He doesn't get to finish his words, as the sound of another engine seems to approach.
He mutters something as he stands up, going towards one window to look out. I immediately follow, and the moment I gaze out, I recognize Mario on the other boat.
"Please don't let them take me," my fingers grasp onto the material of his shirt and I tug slightly. He looks down at me, his expression inscrutable. His hand comes down on mine and he pries my fingers loose.
"Are you in danger?" He asks, and I can only nod, hoping he will help me. He's been nothing but kind to me so far.
"Don't worry." He pats me on my head, over my hat, before leaving the room.
Curiosity eats at me, and I run after him. I open the door and I stick my head ever so slightly between the empty space.
"What brings you here, gentlemen?" My savior asks, his voice holding a suave quality to it.
"The boy. We know he's here. The cameras caught him sneaking on your boat."
"Boy? I haven't seen any boy. I think you're mistaken." He answers confidently.
"Then you won't mind us searching the boat, will you?" Mario asks, and for a moment I'm afraid I might have placed the good man in danger.
"You?" The man asks after a pause, before laughing. "Do you know who I am?"
"We just want the kid," Mario continues, and I'm glad he hasn't blown my cover. But he can't admit who I am, not when it would mean my ruination.
"And I told you there's no boy here. You need to leave. Now." The man's voice has an edge to it, and I hope Mario does as told.
"Listen here, pretty boy, I'll only ask one more time. If not..." He trails off and I hear a gun go off.
No!
What if he gets hurt because of me?
I open the door wider and I'm about to show myself when the man speaks, hi
s words rooting me to the spot.
"And risk war with Agosti?" He asks, and Mario sputters.
"Agosti?" He repeats, sounding dumbfounded.
I frown at the unfamiliar name, but it seems to have an effect on Mario.
I stoop low and take a few steps, wanting to see what's happening.
"War with Agosti or the Marchesi have my head, I'd say it's about the same to me." Mario finally replies, raising his gun and aiming it at the man. He seems unbothered, as he slowly shakes his head, laughing.
"You'd kill the Agosti heir? You must be very brave or..." he steps closer, fitting himself to the gun, "very stupid."
They seem to be engaged in a staring contest before Mario takes a step back, holstering his gun.
"This isn't over," he says, signaling the others to go. There's a few shushed words exchanged between them before the other boat turns around and leaves.
When I see the man returning, I try to scramble back to the living room, but he's quick as he grabs me by my collar, raising me up so we're on eye level.
"Why would Marchesi be after you, kiddo?" His eyes glint dangerously in the moonlight, and fear grips me.
"I don't know." I say, hoping he will believe me.
"You don't know?" He smirks, turning around and taking me to the edge of the boat. My eyes widen, thinking he can't possibly...
His hand tightens on my shirt and he raises me over the boat's railing. My feet are dangling into empty space, the sea staring threateningly at me from below.
"Did they send you to spy on me?"
"Please," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I'm petrified. Why would I spy on him? I don't even know him.
"Tell me the truth, and I'll let you go." He continues, his eyes cold and emotionless. It's like the man from before disappeared into thin air. The more I stare into his unfeeling eyes, the more I realize there's simply no way out of this. He will throw me over if I don't answer.
But what can I tell him? How much can I tell him?
"I... the Marchesi are my parents." I answer quickly, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping he'll be true to his word and let me go.
"There, see, it's possible to be truthful." He does a tsk sound, and I open my eyes to see him smirking. "Go on," he urges me, but I just shake my head.
"That's it."
"I wonder..." He drifts off, his hand moving as he balances me from one side to the other, the threat of drowning looming closer and closer.
"Please," I whimper.
"Fine," he sighs in a bored manner. He brings me closer to the railing and just as he's about to pull me on the other side, I hear a popping sound.
No!
Everything happens in slow motion. I watch in horror as the material of my shirt tears, a big chunk of it remaining in his hand. My mouth opens on a loud gasp, a cry for help that won't come out.
And I'm falling.
I break the surface of the water with a painful thud, and then I'm sinking.
I open my eyes, my limbs flailing around in an attempt to stay afloat, but nothing works. I open my mouth again, trying to ask for help, hoping he'll hear me. But water floods me from all directions. There's a deafening silence as I fall lower and lower under the merciless assault of the waves. The more I struggle, the worse it gets.
Until I give up.
I look at the magnificent blue of the sea and I tell myself that maybe it's not the worst way to go.
Somehow, I'm resigned.
But then, a mass of bubbles signals another presence, and my slowly deteriorating awareness notes strong arms holding onto me and hauling me back to the surface.
I come back with a sputter, water coming out of my mouth and nose, and I keep coughing it out.
"Easy, kiddo. I got you," he says, threading the surface of the water with me in his arms until we reach the boat. He pushes me up a ladder, and I use all my remaining strength to climb up, collapsing on my back once I reach the deck.
"Hell, you scared me." He breathes heavily when he reaches my side, and I turn to look at him.
His eyes widen in shock and his gaze moves from my face and my unbound hair to my body. I'm barely aware of what's happening, but I can tell something is wrong.
I look down and realize what he's seeing. What's left of the wet shirt is molded to my body, following the contour of my breasts, my nipples puckered from the cold and visibly straining against the material.
"You're a girl," his voice is full of venom as he says that. He stands up, his expression one of disgust as he looks at me. "You're a girl," he repeats, shaking his head and taking a deep breath, seemingly to control his anger.
"A woman," I correct him, raising myself on my elbows. I'm breathing hard, my lungs still getting used to not dying, but that doesn't mean I'm going to take everything he dishes out. I already almost drowned because of him.
"A woman," he laughs, his fists clenching around his side.
I know I was wrong in lying to him, but surely he can understand how dangerous it is for a woman to travel alone.
"I'm..." I'm about to apologize for my little lie when he continues.
"I should have known," a bitter smile appears on his face, "only a woman would have stared at me like that."
"Like what?" I ask, frowning.
He kneels next to me, removing a switchblade from his pocket. I eye it suspiciously, especially as he plays with the tip.
Instinctively, I try to back away from him, but he's on me within seconds.
"Like you want to fuck me," he replies, but the crude words don't register. Not when he's thrusting the blade in my face, threatening to cut me. He slowly lowers it down my body.
"No more lies," his eyes follow the blade as it glides down my skin, the tip digging into my flesh ever so slightly. One sudden move and it would draw blood.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now," he continues right when I feel the smallest pinch beneath my collarbone. Terrified, I look down at the droplets of red, and I stop thinking. I just act.
Using my legs, I try to kick at him, all the while crawling back on my elbows, seeking an opening to stand up and run.
He easily catches one foot, tugging me closer to him, but I don't stop. My adrenaline spiking, I use my other leg to push him off. He doesn't budge. Instead, he grabs on to my hip, securing me to the ground under his own body. He looms over me, and he fits the blade right under my chin.
"Every lie you tell equals one cut. I wonder... how many will it take for you to bleed out?" My eyes widen at his implication and I try to fight him off. He's so much bigger and stronger than me that I'm simply pinned to the ground, and despair overtakes me.
"You think you're so great just because you have a pretty face? Not everyone wants to f...f..." I can't bring myself to say the words out loud, so I continue with the first thing that crosses my mind. "You're crazy, you know that? Insane! Mentally deranged! Unhinged!" I yell at him, but it only seems to amuse him.
"Really?" He drawls slowly. "What else?"
"Mad as a March hare!" I burst out, and he has the gall to laugh in my face. I'm terrified, and he's laughing?
"I can't say I've heard that one before." He chuckles, and the blade digs once again into my skin. "Now, where were we? Yes, you were telling me about yourself. No lies, little tigress, no lies."
I stare into his unyielding eyes and I know I have no choice. With a deep sigh, I start.
"I'm Allegra Marchesi." I give him a short version of today's events, and that it was my only chance at freedom before my wedding. After I finish recounting, I watch his face expectantly, hoping my explanation satisfies him.
It doesn't.
"So poor little rich girl decided to have a fun night in town?" He mocks me, the knife still playing on the surface of my skin. "I've met your parents. Dissolute pair–both of them. I guess I can't be too surprised that their daughter would be the same," he snickers at me, his eyes full of hate.
"No, I..." I want to explain to him that I'm nothing
like my parents, but he doesn't let me continue.
"Oh, I know your type. Wanted to get some dick before your wedding? Tell me, were you going to take it in your ass so you could pretend you're still an innocent virgin on your wedding night?" He spits out the words, malice dripping from every syllable. I flinch at his accusations, especially since I've never heard more vile words in my life.
"What are you talking about?" The question comes on a whisper, and I blink away the tears. No one's ever spoken like that to me before.
No one!
"I guess your little trip to slut town was cut short when your guards found you. And you decided to hide here." I look at him and I can't believe my ears. He's distorting everything I told him.
"No, you're wrong." I try to protest, but the knife presses further into my throat.
It hurts!
"I'm wrong?" He raises an eyebrow, his lip curling in derision. "If you're so ready to whore it out, then come on, do it." He takes the blade away from my throat, slowly trailing it down my rib cage before cutting through the material.
I gasp as what's left of my shirt falls away, parting in the middle to reveal my naked breasts. I immediately cover myself with my arms and I scoot back.
"Leave me alone! I already told you everything, what more do you want?" I yell at him, tired of being insulted when I did nothing wrong. Well, except for trespassing on his boat — a decision I'm already deeply regretting.
He still has that amused expression on his face, and it only serves to fuel my anger further.
"Psychopath! You're a psychopath."
"Am I?" He tilts his head to the side, studying me. "Maybe," he shrugs. "How about I make you a deal? You let me fuck you and I take you back to the port."
I'm not that dumb that I don't understand what he's saying. He wants me to give him my virtue for my freedom. I almost laugh out loud. He may be handsome, but he's a handsome devil. And you never make a deal with the devil.
"No."
His eyes widen for a moment before he resumes the same expression of open derision.
"No? You're sure? How are you going to get back then?" He folds his hands over his chest, laughing softly at me.
"I'll swim back!" I say before I can think things through. He thinks he has the upper hand, but I'd rather die than let this devil defile me.
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 4