“Three.” He clenches his jaw.
“Two.” He drops his hand to grip my elbow.
His actions are so rapid that it’s hard for me to keep up.
“One.”
He jerks back, taking me with him, and I nearly topple out as he literally drags me from the car, just as he threatened.
A wicked smile spreads along that evil face as he helps me regain my balance. “Are you ready to follow orders now?”
My cheeks redden in embarrassment.
People are staring, so I stubbornly nod.
Cristian pats my head as if I were a fucking dog. “Good girl.”
He waves to his driver before resting his palm on the base of my back, guiding me toward the entrance. On our journey, we pass vine-covered walls, a waterfall, and grand statues. A doorman sprints over to open the door and escorts us inside.
My hair rises along the back of my neck as goose bumps cover my arms.
Is my reaction from the wind or from what just transpired with Cristian?
This man, forcing me into a restaurant I’m terrified to enter, screams every red flag in the book. My problem is that red flags are my favorite attribute in a man. I can’t blame it on daddy issues because my father is kind. I’m just attracted to power-hungry, crazy-ass men.
We walk together naturally, moving as one, neither of us straying off pace. I hate how my body turns on me and warms at his touch—craves more of his touch.
Confusion fills me when Cristian guides me to the hostess stand instead of a private room. The hostess squeals when she sets her eyes on Cristian. She shoves another hostess away to help us and brushes her hand along Cristian’s arm while guiding us through a brick pathway.
Since Vinny always took us to a private room, I’ve never had time to appreciate the beauty of the interior. I admire every inch of the restaurant—the breathtaking stonework, extravagant Italian artwork, and the low lighting, which creates the perfect ambiance.
People watch us and whisper as we pass.
“The table you requested, Mr. Marchetti,” the hostess says with a cheeky grin. “I ensured I kept it open all night for you.”
His requested table is smack dab in the middle of the dining room.
What the fuck?
Cristian waves off the hostess, disregarding her. I gawk when he turns into a chivalrous bastard, pulling out my chair and waiting for me to sit before taking the one across from me.
This is too date-like for my liking.
What is this man up to?
He’s so hot and cold.
Evil, then decent.
“Good evening, Mr. Marchetti and his exquisite date. I am Oliver, and I will be taking care of you tonight,” our server greets us with a thick Italian accent. He settles a wine bottle flat in his palm, as if he were presenting it at an auction. “Your usual Domaine Leroy.”
Oliver is an attractive man, no older than his thirties. His black hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a white button-down shirt with L’ultima Cena stitched into the left corner of his chest.
“Thank you, Oliver,” Cristian says, his tone just as dismissive as it was with the hostess.
“A glass for both?” Oliver asks.
“Yes,” Cristian answers for us.
Oliver pours us each a glass and places the bottle in the ice bucket. Cristian smiles in self-satisfaction as he orders our dinner before allowing me a word.
“Excuse me,” I say, leaning toward him when Oliver walks away. “I have a voice.”
Cristian grabs his glass of wine. “You can use that voice when you decide not to play childish games in the car.”
“Why are we here?” I attempt to ignore the curious stares and moan at my first sip of the wine, savoring the hints of black cherry and smoke.
“To eat,” he replies in a bored tone.
“Why are we eating in public?”
“So people can see us.”
“Why?”
“To know you’re with me.”
My heart thuds as I take in his mocking smirk. “Why do they need to know I’m with you?”
Jesus. Can this man ever give a straightforward answer?
“You ask too many questions, Natalia.”
“You don’t answer enough questions, so stop with the bullshit, Cristian.”
He skims a finger along the rim of his wineglass. “Vinny needs to know that you’re dining with me.”
“Why?” If I have to ask him why one more time, my head will explode.
“They’ll want to kill you more.”
I replay his answer through my brain, as if I’d misheard him, and gulp my wine in one swig. “Why would you want that?” I snatch the bottle of wine and refill my glass until it’s close to overflowing.
“I’ll be your last resort.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I down another glass.
“I’m all you have now, Natalia.” He leans forward, so impassive for a man revealing how twisted his brain is. “Cross me, and you’re dead.” He tsks. “No more Mafia men for you to run to for protection.”
I recoil at his words, and a tremor shakes through my body.
I’ve made a deal with the devil.
And when he’s done, he’ll dispose of me.
He rakes his gaze over my face with no shame and smirks. “On another note, you look beautiful.”
I glare at him. “I appreciate you providing a nice dress for me to die in. Might as well look pretty at my death.”
“Doubt a pretty dress will make up for your brains being blown out, but, hey, your body will look good.”
I pour another glass. “Does Gigi know her father is such a cruel bastard?” I drink the wine in one swallow.
“My daughter knows who I am.”
I blow out a breath, in need of more answers. “You want people to think we’re dating?”
He scoffs. “Sweet Natalia, I don’t date. I fuck women and then send them on their way.”
With the glass in my hand, I wave it toward him. “You know what I mean.”
“The Lombardis need to think I’m fucking you and that you’re giving me pillow talk at night. They fear men like me knowing their secrets.”
I place my hand over my frantically beating heart. “I’m the sacrifice?”
“You came to me.” He shrugs as if my life means nothing to him.
“You promised to protect me.”
“I didn’t agree to do it forever.”
“When you’re done with me, then what? I’m thrown out to the wolves?”
“We’ll speak of that problem when it arises.” He levels his gaze on me. “So, steer clear of becoming a problem for me. Your life will last longer.”
“I could tell Gigi—”
He speaks over me. “Gigi is the only reason I haven’t traded you in exchange for something more valuable from the Lombardis.”
“There’s something more valuable than my life?”
“Absolutely.”
I shut my eyes as the alcohol hits me. “You kill me, and she’ll hate you.”
“She won’t know it was me.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “What did I get myself into?”
“A world you should’ve stayed out of.”
CHAPTER 4