Page 5 of His to Keep (Reluctant Vows #6)

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Waking with a jolt, I experience a moment of confusion.

As I blink the sleep from my eyes, I’m unsure of where I am or how I got here.

My recollection of what happened last night doesn’t include getting into bed.

I remember being at the hotel with Jason and his sister revealing his plans for me like some smug movie supervillain.

I also have a vivid picture in my mind of running from Jasmine and Ryan and ending up in a room filled with greenery.

They were planning to give me to Semion Barevsky, and I had to try to get away.

My memory of being caught by that American mobster is clear, but it takes me a minute to recall his name.

Gio something. Racking my brain, I come up with the name Volante.

That sounds right. Gio Volante. He flung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and shoved me into the back of a car.

He made some ridiculous declaration about marrying me and then everything went blank.

Shit. Did I pass out? That’s embarrassing.

I don’t know who Gio Volante is or why he thinks he has some claim on me, but I suspect he’s responsible for me being in this unfamiliar place.

Needing to get a better look at my surroundings, I struggle to sit up.

It’s difficult to move in the tight red dress Jason made me wear, but it’s a relief to find I’m still fully clothed.

I don’t like the thought of someone undressing me while I’m unconscious.

The room is very different from the one I’ve been allocated at Jason’s house.

My accommodations were cramped, but nicely decorated, with cream walls and a thick, wheat-colored carpet.

It had a small walk-in closet and an en-suite with a shower.

For a prison cell, it was quite luxurious.

The room I’m in is larger, but there’s only one door, presumably leading to a corridor rather than a bathroom.

The furnishings are sparse, with an oak dresser pressed up against the wall behind the door and a matching nightstand to the left of the wood-framed double bed I slept on.

There are no personal touches in the room that would hint at who lives here.

The only photo on the wall is a black and white close-up of a daisy.

It’s the sort of picture they hang in a model home or a holiday rental to lend it some charm.

I’m not convinced it’s working. The room totally lacks character.

I stretch to tease out the crick in my neck and get up from the bed.

It probably won’t be long until Gio Volante or whoever is working with him comes to get me.

Before they do, I want to get some sense of where I am and whether escape is possible.

Clambering awkwardly off the bed, I go to the window.

To my surprise, I discover the room I’m in is at ground level.

There’s a small patch of grass outside and then some trees, which are precariously close to the house.

If one of them came down in a high wind, it would crash straight through the roof.

I don’t know why I’m worrying about that.

There’s not a whisper of a breeze in the air.

Trying the window, I find it slides open easily.

I lean over the ledge to judge the distance to the ground.

It’s less than four feet. I could easily climb out.

Perhaps I should. Gio Volante may be infinitely more pleasant to look at than Jason, but that doesn’t mean he’s a safer option.

Something tells me he is, but I can’t be sure.

“Don’t even think about it,” a stern male voice with a distinct American accent comes from behind me.

Startled by the command, I don’t think about what I’m doing.

I act out of sheer panic. Scrambling headfirst through the window, I land in an inelegant heap on the grass.

It was a stupid, impulsive thing to do, especially since I didn’t really intend to run from Gio.

I want to learn more about him before I decide whether I need to escape.

I’ve barely stood up and smoothed down my skirt before six foot four of irate male climbs out through the window and grabs me. For the second time in as many days, I find myself upside down over his shoulder. He carries me back inside caveman-style and deposits me on my feet.

We’re in an open plan space. There’s a small kitchen with stark white cabinets and a small stove, a living room with two sofas, a coffee table and a TV, and a dining room with a table and six chairs.

It’s decorated in the same clean, comfortable, and soulless fashion as the bedroom I was in.

I’m now certain this is a rental property, especially since there’s a fire safety notice on the wall alongside a no-smoking sign.

You don’t see those in private residences.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Gio demands.

Fury emanates from him, but I can’t help thinking how hot he is when he’s all riled up like this.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This man could be planning to chop me up into tiny pieces and keep my eyes as a souvenir, but I’m totally distracted by his pretty face and impressively muscular physique.

It doesn’t help that he’s wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

That casually sexy look is definitely my downfall.

“I wasn’t thinking.” I admit. “You scared me, and I acted without thinking.”

“You always dive through windows when you get a fright?”

“Only open ones.” I can’t help giggling at the absurdity of my own actions. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Nor can I.” Gio’s stunning blue eyes narrow. “You put your safety at risk.”

“Oh, come on,” I snort derisively. “It was a four-foot drop.”

“That’s not the point. We’re only a couple of miles from the hotel. Henry’s men could be searching the area.” He folds his arms across his broad chest. “I didn’t rescue you just to let you fall straight back into his hands.”

Now it’s my turn to fix a steely glare on him. “Oh, you rescued me, did you? I was doing just fine getting away by myself.”

That’s far from true. If Gio hadn’t intervened, I probably wouldn’t have made it off the grounds of the hotel.

I hadn’t even thought to kick off my shoes so I could run faster.

Still, something about his domineering manner makes me want to give him a hard time.

I need to get the measure of him, to see how far I can push before he snaps.

I have to know if he’s the type of man who’ll lash out with his fists.

“Were you?” he demands. “If I hadn’t taken care of Ryan and the Henry woman, they’d have caught up with you in seconds.”

Suddenly, the image of Gio holding a bloody knife pops into my head. “What happened to them? Did you kill them?”

“Of course not.” Gio sounds almost insulted that I’d think he would kill someone. “I knocked the Henry woman unconscious, and I cut Ryan up a little, but he’ll live.”

I narrow my eyes as I realize that’s the second time he’s mentioned the new recruit to the Drummond organization by name. “How do you know who Ryan is?”

“How do you think?”

I purse my lips. “He’s a spy.”

“Yep.”

“He works for you?”

Gio shakes his head.

“Then who does he work for?” I ask.

“Who do you think he works for?”

I draw in a deep breath to get my rapidly fraying temper in check.

Getting information out of this man is a painful process.

He’s doing what Jasmine Henry did last night, testing to see if I’m able to work things out for myself.

I find it a little condescending, but I guess he wants to see how much knowledge I have of the world we live in.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out who’s most likely to have planted someone in the Drummond organization.

“Niamh Donnelly.” I smile to myself as Gio nods in confirmation. Niamh and my oldest brother were friends, and I often wondered if she was the reason he refused to marry Cara Drummond.

“I’m impressed,” Gio says.

“Don’t be. It doesn’t take a lot of skill to listen at doors when your brothers are talking about the people they do business with.

” Though I’ve picked up a few snippets of information during my time as Jason’s captive, almost everything I know about the Scottish underworld comes from eavesdropping on Jamie and Alexander.

Gio shrugs again. “Takes skill not to get caught. My four big brothers used to say all sorts of shit when they thought I wasn’t listening, but if they discovered I was eavesdropping, they beat the hell out of me.”

“You have four older brothers?”

“Yes, and a younger sister.”

“I had two brothers and two sisters.” I swallow hard, blinking back tears. Though I’ve thought about them every day for the past four years, I’ve rarely spoken about my family. “I was the youngest.”

“I know.” Gio shoots me a sympathetic look. “But we’re getting off track. I need to punish you for your recklessness.”

“I beg your pardon?” My tone conveys my disbelief. “Punish me?”

“A quick spanking should teach you not to put yourself at risk again.”

When I went out through that window, did I somehow land in the 1800s? There is no way he just threatened to spank me. I may be young, but I’m a fully grown woman and spanking sounds like the sort of thing that should only happen between consenting adults and with strict guidelines in place.

“You can’t seriously think that… oh!”

I don’t get the chance to finish my protest. Gio grabs my wrist and drags me across the room. He takes a chair from the dining table, sits, and pulls me face down over his lap. It happens in the blink of an eye.

As I try to find my balance, my ridiculously tight dress rides up of its own accord to expose my bottom. It’s not until the cold air hits me that I remember I have nothing but a wisp of lace to preserve my modesty.