He lifted a shoulder. “There are varying degrees of unharmed, miss. You will still be reasonably functional if Bruno has to carry you.” He gave her a chilling smile. “Considering the depth of his rage with you, I would think you should not want his hands on you in any capacity at the moment.”
She glanced at Bruno. No, she definitely didn’t. She turned away from the thugs, conscious of them walking a half-step behind her, the gun occasionally ghosting against her lower back and walked toward the car. She slid inside as the gunman opened the door for her. She couldn’t believe her father had stooped to this, and she planned to let him know how unacceptable it was. Although, she had to admit the idea of coming face-to-face with him for the first time in two years was daunting. She just wished it wasn’t at midnight after working a double and running through the streets.
The last time she’d seen her father, she’d had the buffer of other attendees at her stepmother’s funeral to protect her from him. And her stepbrother. She shivered at the thought of Aldo Peretti. If he was at this meeting, she was going to give him the rest of the bottle of pepper spray and hope it blinded him for life.
Both goons slipped into the car with her. Feeling just a dash of compassion at the sight of Bruno’s red eyes, she handed him a bottle of water and a cloth napkin from the wet bar beside her. He grunted in acknowledgement.
She sat without speaking to either of them, though aware of the appreciative gleam in the dark-haired man’s eyes as he examined her shapely legs. Mia had to force herself not to curl them under herself to try to hide.
The trip didn’t last long, and she was prepared to face her father when the car stopped and the nameless goon opened the door. Instead of his brownstone apartment, they had stopped in front of a palatial house. Casting a confused gaze around the property, she saw it was completely enclosed with high metal fencing topped with sharp spikes. “What’s going on?”
“The boss asked to see you.” Bruno responded with no accent.
“Where are we? This isn’t my father’s house.” Unless it was? Perhaps he had moved during the past two years.
Wallace frowned. “Your father? Who is your father?”
It was her turn to frown. “Vadim Kasilli.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know him.”
A frisson of apprehension raced down her spine. “You don’t work for my father?”
“No,” Bruno said.
She swallowed, regretting accompanying them. “Who is your boss then?”
“Shane O’Mara.”
The name was vaguely familiar, but she didn’t know why. “What does he want with me?”
Holding out his arm in a mockery of chivalry, Wallace grinned. “Why don’t we go find out, miss?”
She shrank away from him, intuition screaming at her to get away, but where could she go? The property was encircled with that fence, and it was probably electrified, too. If the one goon had a gun, they almost certainly both did. Though the idea of willingly strolling into the manor was no better than trying to make a run for it.
Bruno grasped her arm and dragged her out of the car toward Wallace. As they began walking, she dug in her heels and tried to wrench away.
“Let go of me, you barbarian. I can walk.”
Wallace’s gun prodded her lower back. “Then do so, miss, before Mr. O’Mara grows too impatient.”
Wallace’s voice held a touch of fear at the name which fed her own. Mia forced her feet to move as she walked between the two thugs. The beauty of the marble steps and ornate ivory columns of Mr. O’Mara’s lavish home didn’t impress her. She was too busy fighting the dread coursing through her system.
The entryway and halls passed in a blur of elegant wallpaper and gleaming marble floors her flats tapped against briskly as the goons hurried her along. Her heart was racing from fear when they finally reached the end of a long hallway.
Wallace knocked on the door at the end of the hall. Mia clenched her hands into fists as Wallace opened the door, glaring at Bruno when he herded her inside roughly.
Mia refused to show her fear. She deliberately moved away from Bruno and took several steps into the room before she stopped. The hardwood floor under her feet formed a star-like pattern, and the black walls were striking. So were the black-and-white nude photographs on canvas adorning the walls that she made a great show of studying as if she were enjoying herself. Finally, she could find no further distraction from the man seated at the desk in the center of the room.
The man who’d sent for her sat back in a large black office chair, fingers steepled at his chin, studying her. He was a handsome devil, with thick black hair, a light tan, and green eyes the shade of sea foam. Those eyes regarded her intently, and she abruptly recognized him. He was an occasional visitor to Lovelle’s, always with a beautiful woman in tow. Usually tall, blonde, and leggy.
Everything petite Mia wasn’t.
She couldn’t fathom why he had sent for her.
He pushed back from his desk to stand, and she caught her breath at his broad-shouldered build. As he stalked closer to her with the air of a hunting panther, she finally exhaled raggedly, her spine stiffening of its own accord in reaction to the look in his eyes.
His gaze skipped briefly to Bruno, and he frowned. “What happened to you?” His voice was smooth and deep, like polished onyx, but with a note that disconcerted her.
