Page 3 of Fallen Prince
A low curse hissed from the shadows. “Breathe, Alexandra. I’m not going to hurt you.” Another curse, softer this time. “But I will keep you here until you talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I managed faintly. I closed my eyes to block out the spinning room. It barely helped.
A heavy sigh ghosted around me. His boots stomped against the concrete floor, retreating to the far corner of the basement. I squinted just in time for a flash of bright light to sear my vision. I recognized the sound of a fridge closing as I squeezed my eyes shut tight.
His footsteps approached me, and I shrank back into the unyielding chair. When his body heat kissed my chilled skin, I peeked up at him, dread a lead weight in my stomach. I didn’t want to look into the monster’s face again, but instinct urged me to keep my eyes on the threat.
Mercifully, he remained mostly cloaked in shadow, sparing me his terrible snarl. His hand was illuminated by the light above me as he extended a bottle of water toward my lips. “Here. You need to hydrate.”
I turned my face away, fearful of drinking anything he offered me. He’d already drugged me once.
Another sigh, roughened by an exasperated growl. “It’s just water. I want you to sober up. You’re useless to me like this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have drugged me.” The bitter words popped out before I could think better of antagonizing him.
I suddenly became aware of the cotton-wool dryness in my mouth and the sandpaper itch behind my eyes. I couldn’t think clearly through the haze that still blanketed my mind. His words and actions didn’t make any sense to me, but I had a better chance of figuring my way out of this awful scenario if I could sober up.
I glanced sidelong at the water bottle, and my mouth went desert dry. My lips were chapped, and I couldn’t manage to moisten them with my tongue.
He released an annoyed grunt and withdrew the offered water. A soft sound of protest left my chest as I watched him take a sip. I could still barely see his features, but as he lowered the bottle, his free hand tangled in his curls, tugging his hair down over the terrible scar around his eye.
I am a monster out of your worst nightmares.Wasthat how he thought of himself? He was trying to scare me into giving him false testimony, but he hadn’t laid a hand on me. Did he think his disfigurement was disturbing enough to make me talk?
“Here.” He extended his hand again, offering the water. “Now you know it’s not drugged. Happy?”
“Not remotely,” I muttered. I really was thirsty, and my head was starting to pound.
“Just drink the damn water,” he grumbled, pressing the cool bottle to my mouth. He waited for me to part my lips and accept what he offered rather than roughly forcing it down my throat.
I opened my mouth and tipped my head back slightly, allowing the water to soothe my parched throat. A low groan eased from my chest as the cool liquid wet my tongue and lips. I hadn’t realized how miserably dehydrated I was until I took that first sip.
Some of the water spilled down my chin and splashed onto my chest, but I didn’t care. I greedily gulped down everything he offered me, my fears about being drugged allayed by the fact that he’d taken a drink from the same bottle first.
When I’d drained half of it, he pulled away, allowing me to draw in a shuddering breath. It felt good to breathe now that my mouth was no longer painfully dry, so I didn’t even register any fear whenhis thumb brushed away droplets of water that clung to my lower lip. The touch was gentle, despite the slight rasp of a callous over my soft skin.
A light shiver raced over my body, and he pulled his hand away, moving slowly enough not to spook me. I blinked several times, clearing the cobwebs from my mind.
He’d said his last name was Ferrara. He’d said that my father had destroyed his family. That was true; my father had sent many of his family members to jail, and they’d lost everything. But Max was young, probably only a few years older than me. Maybe the version of his family history that he’d been told was different from the hard reality that they alone were responsible for their crimes. This stuff about the Bratva had to be a complete fabrication.
And with that awful scar, it wasn’t hard to guess that life hadn’t been kind to him. My own bullies had been bad enough, taunting me for my boyish figure and pale, freckled complexion. I could only imagine how much worse people would’ve treated him because of his disfigurement.
“How’s your head?” he asked, the words a reluctant rumble.
“Better.” I bit my lip, but it was too late to takeback my reflexive answer. He wanted to know if my head was clearer so I could answer his insane questions.
“Okay, let’s try this again,” he began. “Your father worked with the Bratva to bring my family down ten years ago. He took money from Russian oligarchs to advance his political aspirations, and in exchange, they helped him become the hero of New York: the man who brought down the Italian Mafia. I already know it, so there’s no point pretending otherwise. What I don’t have is proof. That’s why you’re here. Once you tell me everything you know, I’ll take you home unharmed. Don’t be stupid, Alexandra. Remember who you’re dealing with.”
“It’s Allie,” I offered, hoping to relate to him on a more personal level. He’d been calling meFrecklesbefore he realized it was a trigger for me. It occurred to me that maybe he’d been trying to keep his emotional distance. There was an edgy, desperate energy about Max. He badly wanted to believe what he was saying about my father, and he craved my confirmation.
He took another step back, his massive frame swelling with tension. “I already told you I’ll call you whatever I want.” I didn’t miss the fact that the barbed statement wasn’t followed by a mockingnickname. “You want to go home, don’t you? Talk.” The last was a snapped command.
If I could just appeal to his humanity, he might calm down long enough to see reason.
“You’re wrong,” I said quietly. “My father didn’t do any of those things. I do know a little about your family, and if you suffered because of my dad’s case against them, I’m sorry. You couldn’t have had anything to do with their crimes back then. But whatever you’ve been told about my father is a lie. He’s a good man, and I won’t betray him by giving you a recording of those lies. I can’t say what you want me to say because it’s not true.”
A growl slid from the shadows. “You must know something. You’re working for the U.S. Attorney’s Office, just like your father. I don’t believe that he has you following in his footsteps in total ignorance. Daddy would’ve told his princess how the world really works, what you need to get ahead in life.”
I peered at him, my eyes straining to see his features through the gloom. His scarred appearance had horrified me before, but I’d been woozy from the drugs, and he’d been snarling in my face. Now, I wished I could read him better. He used the shadows as a shield between us.
