Page 36 of Bellini Bound

But the thought that, perhaps, they weren’t as loyal as he believed them to be, that a vulnerable woman left all alone was too much a temptation to resist and they’d disobey his orders, kept me on high alert night after night.

Damn, what I wouldn’t give for my pepper spray right about now, or any kind of self-defense tool, as my mind went wild, conjuring up all sorts of images featuring me as the victim of a sexual assault.

A shudder rolled through me as the vision of a particularly violent attack flashed before my eyes.

Okay, enough. I needed to shut this down before I drove myself insane.

What I needed was a melatonin gummy followed by a glass of warm milk. That would have me passing out in no time, allowing me to shut down my brain and its too-graphic imagination.

Venturing from my bedroom, I clutched my cardigan tighter to my chest against the chill. Either this place was drafty as hell, or I needed to figure out where the thermostat was to turn up the heat. It might only be mid-October, but the temperature dipped low enough at night to have me burrowing beneath several blankets to keep warm.

Padding down the back steps, which conveniently led directly into the kitchen, I grabbed a saucepan and placed it on the stove before retrieving the milk from the fridge. But as soon as I removed the cap and began to pour, a loud crack sounded near the front door.

Startled, I let out a shriek, levitating nearly a foot off the floor, and my grip on the plastic jug in my hand loosened. Freezing cold liquid splashed against my legs, soaking through the fabric of my pajama pants and pooling around my bare feet.

But being covered in the dairy product was the least of my worries, because male voices sounded nearby.

Someone—multiple someones—was inside the house, and it was as if my worst nightmare had come to life.

Abandoning the mess I’d made, I tiptoed to the open threshold of the room, plastering myself against the wall to stay out of sight.

If I strained my ears enough, I could barely make out what the intruders were saying.

“Few hard slaps should bring him around.”

“Who’s gonna tell the boss?”

“Fucking pigs were just looking for an excuse to open fire.”

“We need to put pressure on it, stop the bleeding.”

“Did anyone call Doc and tell him where to meet us?”

Bleeding? Doc? Was someone hurt?

My nursing instincts kicked in, overruling my fear, and I ran down the hall as fast as my feet would carry me toward those voices. Only to come to askidding halt when I reached the den to find Enzo slumped in an armchair, his olive skin pale and blood dripping down his arm.

Rushing forward, I shouted, “Oh my God. Were you shot?”

His unfocused, glassy eyes lifted to my face, and his lips parted, but only the raspiest moan came out.

Dammit. How much blood had he lost?

I reached out to assess the extent of his injury when a hand clamped down around my bicep hard enough to have a pained cry torn from my chest as I was wrenched away. With a whimper, I weakly tried to break free of the bruising grip when a man with a distinctive scar down his cheek got right up in my face and shouted, “What does it look like, you stupid cunt?”

In a flash, his hold released, and a scream pierced the air.

Stunned, I blinked a few times to comprehend what I was seeing.

Enzo was on his feet, and my assailant was pinned to the wall, a switchblade driven through his hand. A trail of blood slid from his palm, rolling down the wall to pool on the carpet, the crimson stain growing larger by the second.

With his good arm banded across the man’s throat, Enzo snarled, “What made you think you could put your hands on my wife?”

My eyes widened. This show of possession, of protection, was completely out of character for the man who was my husband in name only.

“E-Enzo, I swear I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Sputtered words came in reply.

Dark laughter sounded. “Did I miss the part where you moonlight as a stand-up comedian? Because where I come from, calling a woman a cunt is the furthest thing from respect. And that wasbeforeyou dared to touch what wasn’t yours.” Enzo twisted the knife as much as he could, with it being driven through the wall, and the resulting howl boomeranged throughout the room.