Page 2 of A Debt to Pay
He wipes it away, sending a gentle shock that causes goosebumps to pebble my skin. “You’re a people pleaser,” he says as a statement rather than a question.
“I want my family to be proud of me. They’ve done anything and everything that I need. I can do this for them.”
“Meaning you are a people pleaser. At least for the ones you love. What would you want to do?”
“I have no idea, which is crazy because we’re expected to know what we want to do for the rest of our lives before our brains are fully developed. Do you know about 30 percent of people change careers after they’ve finished school?” Realizing I’m babbling again, I turn to him.
Heat flushes my face, not because of the drinks or my babbling, but because of how he sees me. He stares at me like the rest of the world doesn’t exist or he can see directly into my soul. This has to be a dream. This is something that happens in books and movies, not in real life. At least not inmylife.
Oh no! I realize I’ve lost track of time when my phone lights up. The screen shows several missed calls from Nonno, no doubt in a panic, and a few surprisingly calm texts from Mamma.
“Shoot! I have to go. I lost track of time and my nonno is mad.”
“What is he, your keeper?” I’m not sure if he’s trying to be funny or if he’s frank in the way he speaks.
“He cares about my safety so he tends to worry. I better go. Thank you for the drink and company. It was wonderful meeting you . . . ?”
“Alessandro. It was wonderful to meet you too, Luciana. Can I drive you home?”
“No, I live an hour away. I can’t inconvenience you. I drove anyway.”
“At least let me walk you to your car.” He doesn’t give me the opportunity to decline before he grabs my backpack and escorts me out of the bar.
The sun has set, and the crisp air tells me that fall is closer than I realize. Wait, he’s talking to me. I need to listen.
“Where is your family from in Italy?” he asks.
“I don’t know. My grandparents never speak about their lives before living here. They preach about the importance of our culture and heritage, but they pretend the first eighteen years of their lives don’t exist. Also, they shut me down anytime I’ve tried asking, so I stopped a while ago.”
“I find this encounter quite interesting.” His cold eyes meet mine when he turns to me, causing my body to stiffen.
“W-what about it?” Unease builds inside of me.
“That I know more about your family than you do.”
“What are you talking about?”
He brushes the back of his fingers down the side of my face, sending a shiver up my spine. People talk about fight or flight, but they forgot to mention the last one . . . freeze. And that’s what I do. I freeze. “Sweet Luciana, you’ll find out soon.”
I want to hound him for more information when he gets closer. His eyes get darker and I realize I’ve made a huge mistake letting him talk me into a second drink. He takes another step in my direction and I take two back, running into a solid piece of muscle, and turn around slowly. The man behind me is taller than Alessandro and built like a professional wrestler. I’m caged between these two men when Alessandro says, “Take her, Marco.”
When I whip my body around to scream, I’m met by a stabbing pain in my neck and hand over my mouth. I realize as I’m staring into Alessandro’s now almost black eyes that he knows my name. A name I never gave him. I don’t have enough time to ask him about it before I give into whatever was injected into my neck and slip away into unconsciousness.
Chapter 2
Alessandro
Marco has tracked Luciana since he found her, finding the best time to grab her. What made it difficult was that she never stopped anywhere in between classes, her internship, or home. When she stopped at the bar tonight, it was the perfect opportunity. Normally, I’d send Marco on this kind of job, but I wanted to see who Luciana was before I blew up her life.
Marco loads Luciana into the car as I climb into the front seat and head back to my house. I glance at the woman in my backseat, peacefully unconscious, but I know that won’t last for long once the drugs wear off. The gold crucifix on her necklace rises and falls with the steady movement of her chest. It makes me wonder if she wears that because her family makes her or if she truly believes.
Marco shifts slightly while sitting in the back seat, the side of his knee touching her. A sudden rush of jealousy floods me and my hands tighten around the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
Almost instinctually, I yell, “Don’t fucking touch her!”
“Whatever you say, man.” Our eyes connect through the rearview mirror as he moves his knee away from her. He raises an eyebrow, eyeing me suspiciously. In the years he’s known me, I’ve never been infatuated with a woman. Plenty have been in my bed, but none have stayed for more than a fuck or two. The bottom line is, Marco knows me better than anyone. At times like this, I wish he didn’t.
I remind myself she’s nothing but payment for a debt. She will be my wife and the mother to my children, but that’s all we will ever be. Still, I’m mesmerized at the thought of her under me. The slight dip in her hips before her thighs, giving me the perfect handles for when I ram my cock into her.