Secret Obsession

The designated driver suddenly swivelled my car and drove into a dark abandoned road.

“Why did you take that turn? My house is on the other side of town!” I protested.

The Audi hit another bump, my body flung forward, colliding with the rear of the passenger's seat.

“What was that?” I frowned, fixing my glasses, “Where are you taking me?”

“Shut up!” The driver growled loudly.

“I'm calling the cops!” I declared already fishing out my phone.

Before I could dial 911, a sharp crack exploded. My phone snapped off my grip with a spark.

“Ahhhh!!!” I screamed. 

Turning to the large sized driver, I caught a faint metallic glint in the darkness of the vehicle.

A gun.

Heat pooled within my stomach. My heart hammered against my ribs. My throat stung like acid was poured in as I instinctively raised my hands above my head.

“Sit still and shut the fuck up!—” His head whipped from the dark road to my terrified face at the back seat. “—or I'll shoot you before you get to them.”

“Them?” My bottom lip shook. “Who is ‘them’?”

“Keep talking and you won't find out.”

I froze, eyes wide, with my arms still in the air.

He chuckled, dark and sinisterly. “To think that crooked Leone had a kid out in the public all this time. He actually left you unprotected.”

So this was about my father?

For twenty years I've lived outside the influence of the mafia world. Hidden. Protected.

Excluded.

I knew I was busted the moment he called my father's name. 

The day I dreaded had eventually come.

Even after he lowered his gun, he kept glancing at me through the rear view mirror like a cat monitoring a mouse.

My lids dropped and I silently muttered prayers. Tears trickled down my cheeks.

Then suddenly, the car jolted. Bits of cement ricochet against the window glass as the tires screeched against broken gravel.

I ducked behind the seat to minimise the impact as the car forced to an agonising stop.

Terrific silence stretched for a minute.

Then the gun's safety clicked as something hard touched my forehead. “Get the fuck up!”

Tears mixed with mascara glued dark strands of hair to my face. I could hardly see through the maze but I spotted a dozen headlights flashing directly at us.

Was that the reason he stopped?

“F…father?” I sobbed.

“Move faster!” The overweight man spat in my face. “Out of the car, or I blow your head off!”

The tip of the gun remained on my head as I hurried out of the car, one trembling feet after the other.

“Don't turn around,” he threatened, “move into the woods.”

My feet carried me forward, but not towards the woods. I ducked away from his gun and ran in the opposite direction—towards the glaring headlights.

Stupid! Stupid! Very stupid Gabriella! You're wearing heels!

Actually, one shoe was already missing.

There was no assurance that those vehicles belonged to my father. But if I was going to die, I might as well die trying to escape. 

“STOP!” the man yelled.

But I wasn't thinking, I kept running.

And then the shots came. Bullets sliced through the air like a shower of fireworks. 

My knees buckled under the weight of fear.

Yet, before they could scrape the gravel something strong wrapped around my small waist, pulling me flush against a hard wall.

Expensive cologne plus a strong masculine scent wafted through my nose, breaking through my wall of fear in a way I never thought humanly possible.

A sob wracked through my body in that moment and I buried my face into soft silk and hard muscles. 

“Shhh,” his hand tightened around me, “you're safe, Principessa.”

In the moment of exhaustion and relief, I was still aware of gunshots going off around us.

Men ran past us from behind the headlights. “Boss, they have reinforcement coming from the woods. You should leave, we'll take care of the rest!”

“Clean up properly when you're done. I can't afford the authorities on my tail.” His chest contracted against my cheek as he spoke.

He aimed a few shots at targets I could not see and I tensed against him.

With one arm, he swiftly hoisted me up. My hands wrapped around his neck, legs straddling his waist instinctively. 

He wheeled around and carried me away from the blood bath.

My savior was a tower of brick muscles. He didn't budge as he carried me away. 

I clung to him even when he eased into a car, my face buried in the crook of his neck as I cried my terrified ass out.

Sometime later, I wasn't sure how long I had been in that position but my legs were losing blood flow.

I slowly lifted my head.

“Awake?” A low voice gruffed into my ear.

My eyes were too swollen to open properly, and I had lost my glasses during the chaos.

“Awake?” I echoed drowsily. “Did I fall asleep?”

“An hour ago.” His breath tickled my neck and I suddenly realised we were too close.

I scooted off him but his hands immediately caught my thighs, holding me down to his rigid ones.

“Don't. Move.” His eyes were shut, his face relaxed in tranquility.

“Who are you?” I tried to reign in the anxiety building up. Since I was no longer drunk or terrified, jumping into a stranger's arms didn't feel wise. “Who were those men?”

“Which question do you want answered first?” A barely there smile tugged on his lips.

“Answer both!”

He playfully pried one eye open then closed it again. “You're more beautiful in person, Gabriella.”

“How do you know my name?” I gapped. “Are you a fan?”

Stupid question Gabriella, someone this hot and dangerous couldn't be your fan.

He nodded, his head relaxed against the head rest. “Your biggest fan.”

I smiled remembering my concert earlier today. Then my smile slowly faded.

“My designated driver tried to abduct me!”

“He won't be trying anything in the future.” He muttered.

“W…why?” 

He opened his eyes and caught my gaze with a serious expression. “They're all dead.”

“Are you a cop?” My breath rasped in my throat. “Who are you?”

“Marco Vitale.” He said coolly.

His eyes remained on me like he wanted to catch my genuine reaction.

“Like…you mean…the Black Requiem? The infamous Italian mob boss—Marco Vitale?”

He grunted a deep approving sound from his throat. “You're well informed.”