Bought: Destitute yet Defiant

He was frighteningly calm and Jessie wanted to warn him not to turn his back on the men, but she didn’t dare snap the tension that held them all immobile.

As he reached her he lifted a hand and stroked her hair away from her face, the gesture oddly out of place in such a tense situation. His touch was both deliberate and possessive, as if he was making a statement about their relationship, and she didn’t understand that because they didn’t have a relationship any more.

It had been smashed in that grimy room exactly three years earlier, over her brother’s lifeless body.

Then his hand dropped. ‘Andiamo. Let’s go. Get in the car,’ he commanded, and Jessie obeyed, not because she wanted to get in the car, but because she was as mesmerised by his aura of authority as the gang members. He dominated this godless, lawless environment with the sheer force of his presence and Jessie slid into the sumptuous warmth of the Ferrari, feeling as though she were stepping into another world. Moments later he joined her and she wasn’t sure whether the deep growl came from the engine or the depths of his throat. All she knew was that she’d been wrong about his mood.

He wasn’t calm.

He wasn’t calm at all.

Forced into close proximity by the confines of the car she could tell that he was struggling with a raging anger and that knowledge unsettled her because in all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him like this. Never seen that icy control slide. Not once. Not even that night when their relationship had hit rock bottom.

‘Silvio—’

‘Don’t say a word.’ He cut her off before she could even begin her sentence, his voice strangely thickened, his knuckles white on the wheel. He didn’t glance in her direction. Instead he kept his eyes fixed on the road, speeding through the back streets of London as if he were competing for a Formula 1 title.

Jessie was tempted to point out that there wasn’t a lot of point in rescuing her from one threat only to kill them both in a car wreck, but she kept her mouth shut.

Why him?

Why did it have to be him who had rescued her?

Now that the immediate danger had passed, her thoughts were impossibly confused. The adrenaline rushing around her body had been diluted by another hormone and the only thing in her head was that kiss. Her body was still trembling from the pressure of his mouth against hers and the more she remembered of her wild, crazy response, the more appalled she was. Had he noticed her reaction? She shrank in her seat, hoping that he’d been too distracted to register just how enthusiastically she’d played her part.

Disgust slithered over her bones and settled in the core of her like a cold, hard stone.

Had she no shame?

How was it possible to respond like that to someone you’d spent three years hating? Her brain was like a slide show—one minute she was remembering the breath-stealing moment when his dark head had lowered to hers, the next she was seeing her brother’s face.

Shocked, confused and ripped apart with self-loathing, Jessie realised that the one thing she wasn’t thinking of was the six men who had just tried to kill her.

And that didn’t make sense, did it?

Her gaze slid to Silvio.

He was just one man.

Why did she feel safe?

She swallowed a hysterical laugh, wondering why she needed to ask herself that question.

The visible markers of success hadn’t changed who he was. The expensive watch on his wrist, the car he was driving—none of those things had shaped the man. Underneath the exterior of smooth sophistication that enabled him to blend with the upper echelons of society, Silvio was solid steel. Hard, tough and the very essence of what it meant to be a man.

She felt safe because she was safe. Physically. Any woman would be safe with him, although perhaps only she really understood who he really was.

Just looking at him made her feel guilty and Jessie tore her eyes away from him and looked behind her. Not that she thought for one moment anyone would be following the Ferrari. It would be like sending a donkey in pursuit of a racehorse.

‘They called you “the Sicilian”.’ Unable to help herself, she cast another look at his profile. Looking at him was an irresistible compulsion. ‘It’s so long since you had anything to do with that life but your reputation still frightens them. They knew you.’ She stared in fascination, wondering why she wasn’t more afraid of him herself.

Was it because she couldn’t see the scar?

From this angle the damaged skin was invisible, his features almost impossibly perfect.

Perfect, but cold.

Up until tonight she would have said he didn’t feel—but it was evident that he was feeling something.

Jessie wondered why he was so angry. ‘Why did you come here tonight?’

‘I heard a rumour about a pack of trouble and a girl with a golden voice.’ He shifted gears viciously, coaxed the car round a tight corner and accelerated away so fast that Jessie’s head thumped gently against the head rest.

‘I wasn’t looking for trouble.’

His eyes were fixed straight ahead of him. ‘How much did he owe them?’

Jessie gave a twisted smile, not at all surprised that he knew the truth.

She didn’t waste time pretending he’d misunderstood. Neither did she ask him how he knew. He knew everything. This man had contacts at every strata of society—a network that would have made both social climbers and the police force weep with envy.

‘Forty thousand,’ she said flatly, wishing the sum didn’t sound so terrifying. ‘It was twice that, but I’ve paid back half. I’m late with a payment. That’s why they came after me tonight.’ She gave him no details. Didn’t elaborate. But he knew. He was a man who’d known hunger, violence and deprivation and, in the fleeting second before he controlled his reaction, she saw the murderous flash of anger in his eyes.

‘You paid them?’ The question hissed through his lips and Jessie was reminded that this man was twice as dangerous as the men he’d rescued her from.

‘I didn’t exactly have a choice.’

He changed gears with a savage movement of his hand. ‘But you could have gone to the police.’

The dark streets flashed past and Jessie wondered if he even realised he’d just driven straight through a red light. ‘That would have made things worse.’

‘For whom? Law-abiding citizens shouldn’t be afraid of the police, Jessie. Or were you afraid you’d be arrested?’ The contempt in his tone baffled her until she saw his gaze flick briefly to her exposed thighs—saw the raw fury—and suddenly understood his meaning.

He thought she—

That was why he was so angry?

Jessie was so shocked that for a moment she couldn’t respond. ‘What sort of job do you think I’m doing?’

‘Presumably the same job as the rest of the girls in that club.’

He thought she was a prostitute.

She leaned her head back against the seat and started to laugh. It was that or cry and there was no way she was ever crying in front of this man. All her tears had been shed in private.

‘You think it’s funny?’ His tone savage, he drove the car harder still and Jessie wondered why it bothered her so much that he thought that of her.

‘I use what God gave me. What’s wrong with that?’ It was a stupid thing to say. Flippant, provocative—like dangling a piece of raw meat in front of a hungry wolf—and the moment the words left her mouth she wanted to suck them back in. But it was too late for that. Too late to wish that everything was different between them.

Too late to wish that the past hadn’t happened.

And perhaps it was safer this way. If his opinion of her was rock bottom then it would protect them both from the dangerous chemistry that had flickered round the edges of their relationship like a force field.

She didn’t want that.

He didn’t want that.

He brought the car to an abrupt halt and when he looked at her the red blaze of fury in his eyes made her shrink against the seat in instinctive retreat.

‘If you were that desperate for money,’ he said thickly, ‘you could have come to me. It didn’t matter what happened between us. None of that mattered. If you were in trouble, you should have contacted me.’

‘You are the last person on this earth I would ever ask for help.’ But the words came out as a whisper because she was too overwhelmed by her feelings to manage anything stronger or more convincing.

Self-loathing mingled with a desperate yearning that frightened her.

She didn’t want to feel like this.

‘Pride can kill, Jessie.’

‘It isn’t about pride! Even if I’d wanted to contact you, I wouldn’t have known how. I don’t know you any more.’ Neither did she know herself. ‘You’re always surrounded by clever people and security staff. Although why you need the security staff, I don’t understand.’ She turned to look at him and then immediately looked away because one glance at his mouth made her think of that kiss. ‘Why do you employ security staff? You don’t exactly need help, do you? Or are you worried about dirtying your expensive suit?’

‘Don’t change the subject,’ he said harshly. ‘Were you really prepared to die rather than contact me? Is that the honest truth?’

Jessie stared in front of her, realising with a flash of surprise that they were parked on the pavement near her block of flats. ‘You know why I didn’t contact you.’

‘Sì, I know. You hate me.’ His tone was flat but his grip on the wheel didn’t relax. ‘You blame me for everything.’

‘Not everything—just that one thing. Do you know what tonight is?’ Her voice shook with emotion and his eyes flashed.

‘Do you think I’d forget this date? Does it help you to know I blame myself every bit as much as you do?’ The rain pelted onto the car, blurring their surroundings.

Like tears, Jessie thought as she stared at the water pouring over the windscreen. ‘No. It doesn’t help.’ Nothing helped.

The memory of that night hovered between them like a menacing storm cloud waiting to unleash something terrible and Jessie unclipped her seat belt and opened the car door, on the run from memories and a conversation she didn’t want to have.

‘Thanks for the lift.’ She didn’t say ‘home’ because she didn’t think of this place as home. It was just the place she slept—for now. Until she moved on—which she did regularly.

It was raining hard now, the litter-strewn pavements slick with it, the graffiti on the walls glistening under a glowing orange streetlamp.

Jessie felt ridiculous standing there, soaked to the skin in her cheap gold dress. Next to the sleek Ferrari and the equally sleek billionaire she felt appallingly self-conscious.

Jessie the prostitute.

Was that really how she looked?

So much for her fantasy about singing to packed stadiums or opera houses.

She was as far removed from that as the average woman singing into her hairbrush. As far removed from that as she was from the man who was now striding round the car to her.

His eyes glittered in the ominous light. Ignoring the rain, Silvio removed his coat and slung it around her shoulders. Pulling it closed, he covered her up, every millimetre of her—as if he couldn’t bear to look. ‘You do realise that this is the last place in the world that any sane woman would choose to come to alone at night?’

The coat overwhelmed her, falling almost to the ground and covering her hands. ‘They tracked me down. I had to move. They don’t know I live here.’ She rolled the sleeves back methodically, trying to find her hands—and then she froze, the truth slamming into her.

He knew she lived here.

Jessie felt her face drain of colour and met his diamond-hard eyes with dawning horror. ‘You didn’t ask for directions.’ Her voice was a cracked whisper. ‘How did you know where to drop me?’

‘I make it my business to know things,’ he said grimly. ‘And if I know, you can be sure that those animals know too. I calculate we probably have less than ten minutes to clear out your things before they get here. Move!’

Chapter Two

THE ground floor.

She was living on the ground floor.

Silvio stood in perfect stillness as she undid the bolts on the door, struggling with anger almost too big to contain. He knew that his ability to control his emotions was one of the things that separated him from those animals they’d left behind, and yet right now he didn’t feel so different from those men. What had she said to him?

I use what God gave me.

Remembering the careless way she’d thrown those words at him, Silvio turned away from her, not trusting himself to speak or even look at her. In his head he was seeing Jessie the child, clinging to her brother and not understanding where her comfortable, familiar life had gone. He couldn’t reconcile that vision of vulnerable innocence with reality—he kept seeing Jessie in the tight gold dress, using what God gave her.

The innocence had gone.

He’d known from the moment he’d taken her mouth and felt her wild, uninhibited response.

Just thinking about it had an immediate impact on his body and Silvio swore in Italian, exasperated by his inability to switch off that part of himself. Knowing that his priority had to be to get her away from here, he inhaled deeply and forced himself to focus on what was important.

Saving her life.

Turning back to her, he saw that she was shivering under his coat, but he knew there was little he could do about that. Even though she sold her favours to men, he knew instinctively that if he touched her now he’d risk adding another bruise to the one already developing on the right side of his face.

It had come as no surprise that she knew how to punch.

He’d taught her.

She undid the last bolt and pushed open the door. ‘There. Home, sweet home. You can go now. Thanks for the ride.’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ They were a sitting target in the dimly lit walkway and he wasn’t leaving her there.

Silvio glanced back at the gleaming paint of his black Ferrari, the car as visible and out of place as an alien spaceship in a children’s playground.

‘If you’re worried about your toy, Silvio, just go and play with it,’ she said tartly, gasping as he yanked her back and stepped in front of her. ‘What are you doing? I’m not inviting you in for coffee if that’s what you’re hoping. You had one kiss for free. That’s all you’re getting.’ The bravado hid an ocean of fear and Silvio wondered how long it would take her to admit that she was scared.

‘That kiss saved your life.’ Even it had been at the expense of his own mental stability.

Taking what he assumed to be a last look at his car, Silvio went into the flat first, knowing exactly what he would find.

Much of his childhood had been spent in places exactly like this—bars at the window, locks on the door and a board hammered over the letter box because whatever anyone wanted to post through your door, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a letter.

Being back here was harder than he was prepared to admit, even to himself.

It was dank and small and it took him less than five seconds to reassure himself that no one was inside.

Closing the blinds and securing the front door, he turned with a growl. ‘You shouldn’t be living on the ground floor.’ The moment the words left his mouth he could have bitten his tongue because he of all people should have known why she’d chosen this position.

He pressed his fingers to his temples, tasting regret. Sensitive words didn’t come easily to him but he was fairly sure he could have done better than that if he hadn’t been distracted.

Anticipating her reaction, he cast her a look and she looked straight back at him, her eyes dark pools of defiance.

‘What? If you’re waiting for me to crumble, Silvio, you’re going to be waiting a long time. I’m tough as nails.’

Silvio shook his head in disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh or strangle her. ‘There isn’t time for you to crumble,’ he said evenly. ‘You’ve got five minutes to pack anything that’s important to you. Then we’re leaving.’ A flash of gold dress and creamy skin knocked the words out of his brain and he looked away quickly. The fact that he needed to do so told him just how close to the edge he was.

On reflection, he wished he’d found another way to secure her safety other than by kissing her.

Never before in his life had he had such a slippery grip on control and he knew that if he saw her in that outrageously sexy dress he’d start thinking of all those men looking at her…

How many of them had had their hands on her?

And why had he waited three years to come looking for her? Why had he thought she’d be better without him in her life?

Apparently unaware of his torment, she reached into a cupboard. The coat slipped from her shoulders and the movement of her body gave him a flash of suspender belt. And something else.

With a soft curse Silvio stepped forward and stuck his hand up her dress, ignoring her outraged gasp. He stepped back with the knife in his hand, his mood so dangerous that he didn’t trust himself to be close to her.

‘Maledezione, what is this?’

‘It’s a knife.’ Her gaze challenged him. ‘You should know—it isn’t as if you haven’t seen one before.’

‘You shouldn’t be carrying this.’ His fingers toyed with the blade, the glint of metal winking at him mockingly. ‘If I hadn’t turned up when I did…’

‘I would have used it if I had to.’

Thinking about what would have happened if she’d produced a knife sent ice through his veins.

He’d almost lost her.

A chorus of vicious barking from outside the flat reminded him that they had no time for reflection or recrimination and Silvio slipped the knife into his pocket and retrieved his coat from the floor.

‘Find yourself a coat that fits. I assume you have one. And hurry up.’ He wondered whether he’d been foolish to allow her to come here, but then he reminded himself that they needed her passport.

‘I don’t understand the hurry. It’s going to take me more than five minutes to find somewhere new to live. This is premium property, Silvio—not easy to come by.’ Pulling open a cupboard, she removed a mug and waved it at him. ‘Water? I can’t offer you coffee—they turned the gas and electric off last week.’

‘You’ve just lost thirty seconds of packing time,’ Silvio ground out, prowling to the window and staring into the badly lit concrete walkway that led to the flats. The area made him shiver.

How many times had she risked her life crossing that litter-strewn concrete desert late at night?

‘I take it that’s a no.’ With a careless shrug, she put the mug down on a small table and Silvio glanced back at her, frowning as he saw the red bruising on her knuckles.

‘I’d forgotten about your hand.’

‘My hand is fine. How’s your face?’

‘My face is fine.’ Struggling with emotions he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, Silvio crossed to the small fridge and yanked it open, glaring with disbelief at the empty shelves. ‘What do you eat?’

‘I usually eat out,’ Jessie said blithely, her slender frame telling a different story. ‘I can’t get through the week without dining in at least one Michelin-starred restaurant.’

Ignoring her sarcasm, Silvio reminded himself that his priority was getting her out of this place, not sorting out deficiencies in her diet. ‘Where’s the freezer compartment?’

‘No freezer compartment. You’ll just have to take your gin and tonic without the ice. Sorry for any inconvenience.’

If the situation hadn’t been so urgent he would have admired her courage.

Or maybe it was just that she didn’t know how much danger she was in.

And then she switched on another light and he saw the dark shadows under her eyes.

She knew.

The fact that she was frightened dug deep into his gut. Her life choices were coming back to haunt her and regret sliced through him because if he’d been here, everything would have been different.

He’d thought that leaving was the best thing he could do for her. Now he saw it had been the worst.

‘That’s another minute wasted,’ he drawled softly. ‘Never mind—the ice will have to wait until we’re at my place.’ The bruising on her hand would be worse but he’d have to find some other way of dealing with it. It was better than this nervous tension.

‘I’m not going with you, Silvio.’ She turned on the tap, filled the mug full of water and drank thirstily. But the hand holding the mug was shaking. ‘Get out of my life.’

‘I did that once before. It didn’t work out so well, did it?’

‘It worked perfectly for me.’

‘I’m back in your life, Jessie, whether you like it or not.’

‘You can’t afford me, Silvio. You might be rich but I’m out of your league.’ Her allusion to her dubious lifestyle stoked his anger. He wanted to push her up against the wall and demand to know why she’d allowed this to happen. He wanted to know why it had all gone so wrong. But he knew the answer to that one.

He was responsible. Because of him, she’d given up caring. Because he’d allowed her to send him away, he hadn’t been able to protect her.

Guilt crashed down on him and he heaved it away, knowing it to be a poor friend—a stifling, useless weight that achieved nothing. Keep moving forward—wasn’t that how he’d lived his life?

‘Another thirty seconds gone. I hope you travel light.’ Silvio prowled back to the window and lifted the blinds just enough to give him visual access.

The first thing he noticed was that a small crowd had gathered around his car. The second was that a battered black van with no lights had pulled up at the far end of the street.

He swore in Italian. ‘You’re out of time, Cinderella. Get your passport.’

‘I’ve told you—I’m not going with you.’

‘Now!’ He thundered the word and saw her flinch. ‘Before both our brains are splattered over your wall. Move!’

‘I—’

‘So help me, Jess, my reputation will only protect us for so long. After that we need something a little more concrete. If you say one more word I’ll shoot you myself.’ Distracted by the neckline of her gold dress, he was finding it hard to concentrate. ‘Get your passport!’

‘I don’t have a passport! You’re the one who joined the jet set, not me!’ She yelled the words at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes defiant. ‘Why would I need a passport? International travel isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities.’

Acutely conscious of the vulnerability revealed by that statement, Silvio hunted for a sensitive response but in the end resorted to practicality. ‘I’ll get you a passport.’

‘I’ve told you, I’m not—’

‘You come of your own free will or I carry you,’ he growled thickly. ‘Your choice.’

‘You call that a choice?’ A car door slammed and she jumped. Her eyes flew to his and he saw her terror.

‘Discussion over.’ He grabbed her wrist but she dug her heels in.

‘Wait—there’s something I need…’ Wrenching her wrist out of his grip, she scrambled onto the rickety table and removed a shoebox from a cupboard.

Averting his eyes from another flash of stocking and smooth thigh, Silvio stared through the blinds and saw the van doors open. Six of them. The same six.

Pulling out his phone, he made a call, the exchange of words taking all of five seconds to complete.

Seeing Jessie teetering on the table, he reached out and swung her down. He tried to take the shoebox from her but she snarled at him like a lioness protecting a litter of cubs, clutching the box so tightly that her fingers were white and the lid of the box crumpled slightly.

‘Whatever is in that box, it isn’t worth risking your life for,’ he thundered, but he let her keep the box. ‘Does the bathroom window open? Is there a way out of the back?’ He knew there would be, because there was no way Jessie would live anywhere that didn’t have several exits.