The car stopped beside her, and she startled when the door was suddenly flung open. Her instincts kicked in, and before she could run, a deep voice rumbled, “Get in.”
Rosa blinked, glancing at the open door and then at him. He had removed his coat, loosened his tie, and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows. A half-burnt cigarette was clenched between his fingers, smoke filling the car as he took a slow drag and exhaled, watching her.
She didn’t even bother to answer.
She turned and started walking again.
His jaw clenched. Luciano Mancini was not used to defiance.
He shot a look at the driver through the rearview mirror. The engine started at once, the car rolling forward before stopping beside her again.
“I said get in,” he growled. “Or I’ll make you.”
The warning
