Bought: Destitute yet Defiant. Sarah Morgan
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words he was speaking and the eerie darkness made it impossible to read his lips.
At one point Jessie thought she heard someone mutter something that sounded like ‘The Sicilian’, but she couldn’t be sure and they obviously had no interest in including her in the conversation.
Just when she was wondering whether she could slip away unnoticed, they all turned to look at her.
Jessie stood welded to the spot and for one crazy moment she wondered whether Silvio was going to join them. Strip away the expensive clothes and he had the credentials. He’d lived his early life among people like these. He’d led the most feared gang of all.
Those dangerous dark eyes fixed on her and for a fraction of a second he was a stranger to her. She saw what the others had seen. And what she saw was frightening.
Jessie sucked in a breath, reminding herself that, whatever their differences, this man would never hurt her physically.
Emotionally? Emotionally he’d achieved what a childhood lived rough hadn’t managed to accomplish.
He’d broken her into tiny pieces.
Her eyes slid to the scar, her breathing stopped and they stared at each other. The tension in the air shifted and morphed into something different, something a thousand times more dangerous.
Without breaking eye contact, Silvio strolled towards her.
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.’
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