Page 76 of Freed
Because the panic may have loosened its grip, but the memory remains.
A black vehicle. Tinted windows. The awful blur of being moved. The phantom sting at my neck.
And worst of all, the thought that follows it. It isn’t Lorenzo’s fault I remembered. But the memory drags another truth behind it, one I do not want to look at too closely.
Someone drugged me once to get me out of his life.
The realization settles cold and poisonous in my chest. What are they going to do when they realize he has me again? My fingers curl into the leather seat. Because this—whatever this is between us, this war, this obsession, this ruinous, impossible thing—was dangerous enough before.
Now it feels lethal.
15
Lorenzo
Elizabeth goes straight to the bedroom and shuts the door behind her. The soft click of the latch echoes down the hallway like a gunshot.
Then I hear her crying.
I stand there for a second, unmoving, staring at the closed door while something ugly twists low in my gut.
What in the fuck happened back there? One minute she was furious—spitting nails, fighting me, looking at me like she wanted to draw blood. The next, she looked… terrified. And that came out of nowhere.
I drag a hand over my jaw, replaying every second in my head. The boutique. The street. The SUV. The moment her face changed. One instant she was raging at me, the next she’d gone white and wild-eyed, like she’d seen a ghost reach out of the dark and put its hands around her throat. That wasn’t about me throwing her over my shoulder. That was memory. And the second that realization hits, something cold settles over my skin.
Whoever did that to her is still breathing. For one violentheartbeat, that is the only thought in my head. I’ll kill them. Not threaten. Not punish.
Kill.
One of my men appears at the far end of the hall, smart enough to keep his distance.
“Sir, Cesaro is on the phone in the office.”
I nod once.
By the time I get downstairs, I’ve shoved the worst of my expression back into place. Not all of it. Just enough.
I step into the office and close the door behind me.
“This is Conti.”
“Boss, Mrs. Conti is asking when you’ll be home.”
I close my eyes for a brief second and bite back a sigh sharp enough to cut. “In a few days. Did she find an apartment yet?”
“No, sir. She said she’s not leaving.”
Of course she did. Fine. Then I’ll leave. The decision comes easy. It’ll be better that way, since I’m sure Elizabeth won’t want to go back to my penthouse.
I lean back in the chair, my gaze drifting to the dark window. “Anything else?”
A pause.
“I got word you were in Italy. That there was a scene.”
My grip tightens on the phone. Cesaro is smart enough not to elaborate. He doesn’t need to. News travels fast when blood, money, or humiliation are involved, and I delivered all three before I left.
“You found Miss Miller?” he asks.
