Page 36 of His Kidnapped Queen
I look up at him, searching his face.
“Why does it matter so much to you?”
“Why are youhere?” he asks again.
“I keep telling you! I heard about the party and wanted to come and get drunk. Didn’t happen because of you,” I mutter.
He shakes his head. “You’re lying.”
“You don’t even know me,” I mumble.
He catches my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him again.
“I’ve been inside you. You think I don’t know you, pixie?”
“You’re crazy,” I say incredulously, my heart racing. I can’t deny it feels good, having him touch me, having him so clearly want me, but I can’t do this.
He’s a criminal. A deviant. I read in the dossier that he runs guns, drugs, and sometimes women. All above board,consenting women, according to sources, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t wrong.
Years of working as a detective have made me soften on some issues, especially those that don’t hurt anyone. But Luca hurts people. Badly. He hasn’t been arrested, but there are rumors that those who cross him go missing.
He’s probably a murderer. Almost certainly.
And I’m wet. Soaking wet.
“Maybe,” he says easily, and wraps his hand around my throat.
My eyes dart to his but he doesn’t squeeze, just caresses my pulse point.
“But you want it,” he continues in a low voice, making a thrill run up my spine. “You want me, pixie. You can’t deny it.”
“I don’t want you,” I say harshly, wrenching away from him as much as I can. He drops his hand from my throat but doesn’t move away. “Please, I need to make a call.”
“Make your call,” he says, and relief flows through me. “But I’ll be watching.”
I groan inwardly but he moves away enough for me to get my phone out of my bag.
I call Scott, but he doesn’t answer. It’s nearly midnight and he’s probably still drinking and talking with Derek’s friends.
I text him:Help meand then look back up at Luca.
He doesn’t believe me. That’s clear in the intensity of his gaze and the set of his shoulders. He’s not going to let me go, and I can’t tell him that I’m undercover.
We’re at an impasse, and we both know it.
“Luca!”
A blonde, stick-thin woman totters up to us, putting her hand on Luca’s shoulder.
He grits his teeth, clearly annoyed as he turns.
“I’m busy, Maria.”
I blink. So he knows her. By name. Awesome.
Jealousy rises in me and it’s ridiculous. I don’t know him. But some part of me feels like I do. Not just from that night, but from reading his dossier. I know that his brother, Nico, has been a thorn in his side for years. I know Nico’s heavily into drugs and sex trafficking. I know that Luca has taken care of him, covered up for him.
I know that Luca isn’t a womanizer, not really. He doesn’t do relationships, but he also doesn’t have a new girl every week or anything. I know that he and his father have a complicated relationship, that his father favors Nico.
