endurance, I fell to my knees and shrieked as Alessandro Damiani stalked in my direction, composed and controlled. How could that be when he just shot a man in broad daylight; in a place crowded with people? And now he approached me. My heart thumped out of my chest. I wanted to run again, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. Then, that cold black gaze met mine, and my stomach twisted into knots from anticipation and nervousness. Unable to stop the sudden nausea, I turned my head to the side and threw up. Through fog, I heard him swear above me. In that instant an ice-like coldness descended over me, and I wrapped my arms around my shivering body. What on earth did he plan to do with me? For a while, he simply stood there. Then he made a sudden movement, and I flinched. With timid slowness I raised my head, seeking him through a blur of tears. He held my gaze for a few moments, and I watched in total wonder as he calmly removed his expensive jacket and arranged it over my shoulders.
Slowly—as if not to startle me—he knelt to my level, and I fought to speak through chattering teeth. I wanted to thank him, ask for mercy or say anything, anything at all. Instead I remained trapped in shock, staring at the gorgeous man from the restaurant. The same man who haunted my dreams for so many long months; the man who was far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. He reached out to touch me, but I flinched away. When he extended his fingers again, my reaction was the same. This time he didn't back away, but rested his hand against my bruised cheek.
I whimpered.
“Shh,” he whispered, caressing the sensitive skin on my face. “Tesoro, what the hell are you doing here?”
I parted my lips to reply, but nothing came out. I gazed once more into those consuming dark eyes before everything went black and I was sucked into a bottomless oblivion where nothing held any importance. The last thing I heard was a staccato of angry Italian sentences as I was being lifted into somebody's arms.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Past (5 years prior)
While trapped in darkness, a familiar voice whispered to me until I responded to its demands. Slowly, I emerged from deep sleep, my head supported by a downy pillow and my body warm and relaxed against a soft mattress...mattress? My eyes shot open. Bile rose to my throat at the sight of that tall, blond-haired man in a white coat. He leaned above me, gauze in hand. “No,” I screamed, jerking away. Alessandro Damiani appeared behind the man, and that hard expression froze me dead in my tracks.
“Stay still,” he ordered, in a voice that sounded like a whiplash. “The doctor is here to help. The least you can do is cooperate. He will not hurt you. Isn't that right, Dr. Mason?”
“That's right, Sir,” the man mumbled in a shaky tone.
The heartless doctor seemed a lot nicer, and immensely respectful of Alessandro Damiani, calling him Sir. It was an insane thought, but I could have sworn this same man who had hurt me and humiliated me only hours earlier now stared at me with naked fear and an expression that seemed almost pleading.
Flabbergasted, I forced myself to endure the attention of the man who had threatened and terrified me. He listened to my heartbeat with his stethoscope and I lasted through the entire process, but when he attempted to touch me, I flinched away from him and my eyes clashed with Alessandro Damiani's dark gaze. Something dangerous flickered in those mesmerizing eyes, and his expression reminded me of the moment when he reached for his gun and shot that giant man. Burned by the darkness in his stare, I closed my eyes and mentally prepared for the doctor's touch, when a harsh expulsion of breath resounded somewhere in the background.
“Don't touch her!” Alessandro Damiani's voice screamed murder, and my eyes sprang open.
The doctor paused, a deep furrow wrinkled his forehead, and his hands shook.
Behind him, Alessandro bit out another command. “Get the hell out of here!”
The doctor visibly tensed, his medical tools clanging as he dropped them with careless regard onto the steel tray, and hurried out of the room.
I was alone with Alessandro Damiani who assessed my every movement intently. He parted his lips to say something, and right at that moment his phone rang. Without removing his gaze from me, he