Page 32 of Deadly Alliance
Cassio stops a few feet in front of me. His gaze does a slow, deliberate sweep of my body, taking in the black silk blouse and the tailored trousers. A flicker of dark approval sparks in his eyes before his expression hardens back into an impenetrable mask of authority.
"You are not leaving this house," Cassio states, his voice leaves no room for negotiation.
"I am going to see my sister," I repeat, my voice rising, the defiance flares up instantly. "I am not asking for a vacation, Cassio. I want to see Lucia. I want to make sure she’s okay."
"She’s fine. She is sitting in Orlando’s house, completely insulated, playing the perfect, obedient daughter," Cassio sneers, stepping closer. "Which is exactly where she is going to stay. You are not stepping foot on Genovese territory."
"It's my home!"
"This is your home," he corrects, his voice dropping an octave. He reaches out, his large hand wrapping around my upper arm. His grip isn't painful, but it is immovable. He pulls me a half-step closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his furious glare. "You are a Vellutini now. You don't run back to your father’s house just because you’re bored."
"I am not bored, I am suffocating!" I shout, trying to wrench my arm out of his grasp, but it’s like trying to move a steel beam. "You took the phone! You locked me in a penthouse! I have no one to talk to, nothing to do, and your staff treats me like I’m a ticking bomb! I am losing my goddamn mind, Cassio!"
"Then read a book. Swim in the pool. Buy out an entire fucking jewelry store online," he snaps back, leaning down until his face is inches from mine. "But you do not walk out that front door."
"Because you're afraid I’ll run away?" I taunt, hitting the absolute sorest spot I can find. "Afraid I’ll find Dario and beg him to hide me?"
The reaction is instantaneous and terrifying.
Cassio’s free hand snaps up, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck, gripping hard enough to make me gasp. He yanks me flush against his chest.
"Say his name again," Cassio whispers, his breath feels hot against my lips, his eyes are black holes of pure, psychopathic jealousy. "I dare you, Noemi. Say his name one more fuckingtime, and I will have Matteo deliver his head to you in a box before dinner."
I swallow hard, my pulse is frantic against my throat. I know he isn't bluffing.
"You’re insane," I breathe, my voice is trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
"I am protective," he corrects, his thumb strokes a harsh, possessive line along my jawbone. "You think I’m keeping you here just to punish you? You think this is a game? The Bratva and the Irish are mobilizing, Noemi. The port war isn’t a cold war anymore. Shots were fired on the east docks last night. They know Orlando forced this marriage to build an alliance. You are the physical bridge between the two biggest Italian families."
He leans in closer, his lips brushing my earlobe. "You are a target. If you walk out those gates without me, they won't just kill you. They will take you, they will torture you to send a message, and they will leave you in pieces for me to find."
A cold chill washes over me, completely dousing the fire of my anger.
I look up into his eyes. The volatility is there, yes, but beneath it is a desperate paranoia. He isn't just trying to control me. He is terrified of losing what he just realized he owns.
"If I need to see her..." I start, my voice losing its sharp edge, dropping to a tight whisper.
"If you need to see your sister," Cassio interrupts, his grip on my hair loosening, his hand slides down to cup the side of my neck, "you tell me. And I will arrange it. You don't go anywhere, you don't step foot outside these walls, unless my hand is holding yours. Do you understand me?"
"I hate you," I whisper, though the words lack the venom they held a week ago. They sound more like a plea for mercy.
"I know," he murmurs.
He leans down and captures my mouth in a branding kiss. His tongue sweeps past my lips, tasting me, staking his claim right in the middle of the foyer with Matteo standing ten feet away. He kisses me until my head spins, until my hands involuntarily grip the lapels of his suit jacket to keep my balance.
He breaks the kiss, his chest heaving slightly.
"I have a sit-down with the Capos," he roughly tells. "I will be back late. Stay inside."
He releases me, turns on his heel, and walks out the heavy front doors. Matteo follows him, casting one last, unreadable look back at me before the heavy oak shuts with a definitive, echoing thud.
I am left standing in the massive foyer, my lips swollen, my heart racing, completely and utterly trapped.
The hours crawl by like dying insects.
I spend the afternoon pacing the length of the penthouse, staring out the reinforced glass windows at the churning, violent sea. The storm from yesterday has returned, with dark gray clouds rolling in over the horizon and bringing a torrential downpour that violently lashes against the estate.
It feels entirely fitting. The weather is matching the chaotic, suffocating dread building in my stomach.
