Chapter 34

VEDA

I had no idea who this guy was or what he wanted from me, but I would rather he call me anything in the world other than that name. Slut. Bitch. Whore. Cunt. Any of those would work. Just not "Nicole." I was still pissed at her.

"Your name is not Nicole," he deadpanned. I could tell by his tone he was only patronizing me. It irked me beyond reason, but I answered anyway. I even managed to keep the sarcasm from my tone.

For the most part.

"No. But if you want her, I'd be more than happy to tell you exactly where to find her." At least I thought I could. I hadn't heard from my sister in two weeks, not until I received that damn wedding invitation in the mail.

"Like the downtown condo where you've lived for the last year? The one your boyfriend...excuse me, your fiancé...pays for?"

I could tell he didn't believe me. And not just from his tone. There was something in his eyes. The cold stare of an alligator right before it locks its teeth around you and pulls you into a death roll. And there was no way for me to prove it to him without getting my purse out of my car that’s currently parked in the garage below my sister's place.

Oh, wait! My phone! I leaned forward and slapped my hand over my back pocket before I remembered I'd laid it on the couch beside me before I was so rudely kidnapped. Dammit. With a sigh, I sat back again, chewing on my thumbnail. And then I thought of something. "Do you have a F******k account? Personally, I don't. Social media is bad for the soul. But I'm sure Nicole must have a picture of the two of us somewhere. I could show you who I am."

"And who is that?" he asked without answering my question. "Who are you if not Nicole? The woman marrying Mario Morelli in a few short weeks. Or, at least, the woman who was supposed to marry him."

His voice was low and slightly raspy and way too distracting, but that last sentence caught my attention. "Supposed to? You stole me to stop a wedding?" That made no sense. If my sister was involved with this guy, too, you'd think he would be able to tell us apart.

Also, I now knew the name of my future brother-in-law and I intended to stalk him online as soon as I possibly could.

He didn't answer. Just stared at me with ice-blue eyes so cold they sent a shiver running down my spine.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "And why exactly do you want to stop my sister's wedding?"

"Your sister?"

I rolled my eyes before I could think better of it. "Yes. My sister. That's what I've been trying to tell you. You've got the wrong girl."

"That's not possible. Nicole Calbert doesn't have a sister." However, he didn't sound quite so smug now.

"And yet, here I am." I spread my arms out wide and his eyes immediately went to my boobs. I dropped my hands back into my lap and gave him the "are you kidding me right now?" stare us girls have had to perfect over the course of our lives when dealing with men.

He rubbed his jaw as he studied me like I was a piece of abstract art he was trying to figure out, drawing my attention to his strong hands and the gray hairs sprinkled throughout his close-cut beard. Rather than making him look old, it made him look dangerous. Sexy. He wore what looked to be an expensive watch on his wrist. Almost as expensive as the black suit that was exactly tailored to fit his hard body. His sandy brown hair was clipped tight to his head on the sides and back, the top a little bit longer and pushed back from his forehead in natural waves. I noticed there was a bit of gray there, too. On the sides. And from the lines around his eyes, I'd judge him to be in his late thirties. Maybe forty. A man in his prime. He also spoke perfect Italian, yet had absolutely no accent when he switched to English.

And he enjoyed the taste of his victim's blood.

Something sharp and unexpected hit me right in the gut at the thought of this man vying for Nicole's attention, his hard body covering hers the way it had just done mine. His weight pressing her into the mattress. His smell filling her nose and his heat warming her skin. I immediately pushed the images—and whatever the hell it was I was feeling—aside. It was none of my business, what went on between them. And honestly, I really didn't want to know. Or maybe I did.

I sighed loudly. Hell, I don't know. I've hated my sister for so long it was hard to tell if I cared about her anymore. "Look," I told him. "Again, you've got the wrong girl."

"Again, that's not possible."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't make mistakes. And neither do my men."

I sighed. There was no use arguing with him. He wasn't going to listen. Instead, I wracked my brain, trying to think of a way I could prove I wasn't my sister. Maybe if I knew more about what was going on, I could somehow force him to understand this was nothing but a case of mistaken identity. "Are you going to tell me why I'm here?"

"Because your boyfriend took someone from me once.”

I ignored the first part. For now. "So you're returning the favor?"

"Something like that."

Why did I get the feeling these people weren't in the business of real estate? My heart began to pound as I asked my next question. "Are you going to hurt me?"

"Not right now. Not unless you try to escape."

I studied his face, searching for some sign that he was lying. But he was looking straight at me, his posture alert but relaxed, and he hadn't faltered with his answer. Plus, my instincts told me that this man may be a lot of things, but a liar wasn't one of them. "Okay." I took a deep breath. "How long are you going to keep me here?"

"As long as it takes."

"And what, exactly, are you hoping to accomplish?"

"The answer I gave you will have to be enough. For now."

So the rest falls under "things Veda doesn't need to know." Got it.

"What are you going to do with me while I'm here?"