Liar's Lullaby

Chapter 4 Episode 4

“I can look into live-in nannies,” Adriano tells me. “I’ll make sure to do extensive backgroundchecks. We’ll need someone discreet, but I can have a few different non-disclosure agreementswritten up to take care of that.”

Adriano frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I have a better idea,” I murmur. “A way to kill two birds with one stone.”

“You already have a nanny in mind?” he asks.

“As a matter of fact, I do. She’s in my cellar right now.”

INSIDE A JAIL CELL IN THE MAZZEO MANSION BASEMENT

Despite my better judgement, I inch closer to the dark, concrete walls and peer closer.

Old blood, by the looks of it.

And yet somehow, I’m more alarmed by the plethora of scratches that have been etched into the wallsof this basement jail cell.

As though someone before me tried to claw their way out.

When Lucio’s thugs first dragged me down here an hour ago, I was almost relieved to see the glossyhardwood floors and handcrafted stone shelves bearing dusty, expensive-looking wine bottles.

But then they kept on dragging me past all that.

Past gilded frames of priceless art.

Past racks of ancient medieval weapons.

Past what had to be an absurdly priceless collection of vintage sports cars.

And then the luxury ended abruptly, and I was hurled into a dark, frigid alcove at the back.

Millions of dollars of collectibles lay on one side of an ugly iron door.

The other side held cobwebs, rat droppings, and dried old blood.

Guess which side I ended up on?

The thugs didn’t say a word as they dumped me into the cell and slammed the door shut. The clunk ofa heavy lock sliding into place added insult to injury.

That was an hour ago.

To my credit, I lasted almost forty-five minutes before the panic set in.

It arrived in a hurry.

One minute, I was breathing calmly. Damn near meditating. Coaching myself through this like it wasjust a tiny bump in the road of life and I’d be out of here in a jiffy.

The next minute, I found myself hyperventilating and pacing back and forth, back and forth, back andforth.

Like this four-by-four foot jail cell was a palace worth exploring.

My adrenaline is burning like rocket fuel, consuming all the calories I’d consumed just a few hoursago in the restaurant.

The hunger is back with a vengeance.

The same hunger that landed me here in the first place.

I walk towards the heavy inner door that separates me from the basement beyond.

It’s mostly thick, unyielding iron. But set in the middle of it is a smallish square grille of interlockingsteel bars.

Just big enough for me to poke the tips of my fingers through.

I do just that—shoving my hands into the grooves and shaking as hard as I can.

I scream, just for added effect.

The word echoes within the enclosed space. My own voice sent back to me, distorted and haunting,sends shivers up and down my spine.

It doesn’t do me much good.

Just leaves me with a hoarse throat and painful indents on my fingertips.

The echoes die down, swallowed up by the darkness. I can’t see much through the grille.

All I have is blood on the walls and chills on the back of my neck.

Do They know I’m gone?

Will They come for me?

Surely, They will have realized I’m missing by now… right?

Reality backs me into a corner and I slide down the wall. I wrap my hands around my knees and rockback and forth, trying to stay calm.

“Breathe, Charlotte,” I beg myself. “Just f*****g breathe.”

But the truth is sinking in fast.

And this cell is too small to run from it.

I try to talk my own thoughts down, because they’re getting faster and uglier and more insistent.

If I keep going at this rate then I’ll be insane before the sun rises again.

Of course They’re not coming for you.

They probably think you’re dead.

And even if They know you’re alive, They have no idea where to find you.

I don’t even know where I am.

I’d been blindfolded the moment I was pushed into the massive black jeep that had brought me here.

It wasn’t until I’d been dragged in front of that mob-connected asshole that I realized why the beefydude at the restaurant was going through all the trouble.

Of all the restaurants I could have chosen, I’d picked the one owned by one of the most notoriouscrime lords in the State.

The name alone makes me shiver.

I know the stories. The reputation.

They’ve always been terrified of him. They hate him. Fear him. Envy him.

But one thing’s for sure—he’s definitely not what I’d expected.

His eyes are such a piercing gray.

No, that’s not right. They’re silver. Glistening and intelligent and cruel.

I’d almost call them beautiful.

But one look at the rest of him and I’d realized just how wrong that word was.

Beauty implies softness, gentility, grace.

Lucio is none of those.

His eyes are silver like the blade of a knife. Just as sharp. Just as cold.

I close my eyes now in the darkness of this cell and his face is right there in my mind, as clear as if hewere still standing in front of me.

I see the scar that slices across the right side of his face. Like a half-moon arcing down from his browto the corner of his harsh lips.

I see the brutal angle of his jaw. The dark stubble.

And more—I still sense the all-consuming scent of him.

Danger and cologne and gin.

Everything about him seemed designed to invite me in. I’d been in his presence all of what—fifteenminutes? Maybe twenty?

And my thighs had been clenched together the whole damn time. From the very moment I’d taken inthe mere size of him.

Six feet plus of muscle, tattoos, and intimidation.

It makes sense why he reigns supreme in this city. Why They hate him so much—but don’t dare to facehim down directly.

Only a fool would cross a man like that.

And only a fool would be attracted to him.

But just as Mama likes to remind me every time we speak, we Dunn women have always had aweakness for dangerous men.

I hate that we have that in common.

Which is why I’m determined to resist all my self-destructive impulses.

I made a promise to myself years ago that I would not end up like her.

Her whole life, she’s been eager to trade anything in exchange for love.

Her body. Her silence. Her self-respect.

I’d rather be respected than loved.

I freeze when I hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

I bolt up to my feet just as the outer door to the room clangs open. For a brief moment, I see the lowlight from the wine cellar.

Then his gigantic frame blocks it all from view.

Lucio walks in alone and pulls the door shut behind him. The sound bounces off the walls like thunderas he steps forward.

I move closer to the cell door that still separates us, my eyes studying his expression warily.

He watches me closely, but his expression is carefully composed. It gives nothing away.

“I didn’t realize that I was such a threat to your personal safety,” I call out.

I’m deliberately trying to be as sarcastic as possible. I need to show him I won’t be intimidated.

“Big guy like yourself scared of a little girl like me. I wouldn’t have guessed it.”

He shrugs, completely unaffected by the insult.

“You think I wanted to frighten you?” he asks. “No, no. This little cell is not about fear. It’s abouthumility.”

“You needed to be put in your place.”

The small, rational part of my brain is telling me that he’s goading me. That, by getting angry, I’mplaying right into his hands.

But my impulses have always been stronger than my sense of reason.

Another reason why I’ve always been attracted to the wrong men.

He smiles. Slow, arrogant, gorgeous.

And my c**t throbs in response.

I wince at the rush of sensation and clamp down against it. No matter how strong my will is, my bodyseems determined to sabotage my good intentions.

I can’t afford that right now.

“I’d watch your words around me,” he warns, the smile still in place. “Men have died for much less.”

“That kind of threat might work with everyone else, but it won’t work with me.”

“No?” he says. “Well, then, maybe I was wrong earlier. Maybe you’re not a smart girl after all.”

“I told you not to call me that,” I snap again.

Same as before—he just chuckles.

That pisses me off more. I slam my elbow into the mesh grille, rattling it in its frame.

“You’re lucky you’re on the other side of this cell,” I hiss.

His gray eyes flash silver in the near-darkness. “Actually, Charlotte, I’m beginning to think theopposite.”

I frown, wondering what the f**k he means by that.

I stare at Lucio and he stares right back.

Not once do his eyes dip down to the rest of my body. Another man would have already undressed mein his head a dozen times over.

But this man… he seems completely disinterested in that.

Why does it feel like a slap in the face?