Read Online Marked For Love (Mob Romance) by Cristina Grenier - Free Book Online
Authors: Cristina Grenier
Tags: mob romance
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use to aid in her escape was well hidden. Perhaps sensing this herself, the young woman’s eyes dropped to the counter, where she drew small circles as he busied himself with ice and two glasses.
He poured a brandy for himself, and for her as well, hoping the drink would send her to sleep. When he slid the glass across the counter to her, however, she made a face. “Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?”
The look he shot her would have frozen the Mediterranean and immediately, she shut her mouth and took the drink, each small sip she took making her shudder at the smooth burn of the alcohol. He stared at her, and she stared at the counter – thus beginning the great waiting game.
Thirty five hours..
Thirty five long hours.
**
Grace kept expecting to wake up – she truly did. Half of the time she didn’t know if she was in a dream or a nightmare. Her surroundings were comfortable enough, but the men guarding her weren’t very happy about the position they’d been placed in, that was for sure.
When the blonde and his partner came back from their business to find her sitting at the opposite end of the couch from her captor, their surprised expressions said it all. The blonde let loose a stream of Italian to the man she’d spent all day trying not to stare at, leaving her completely lost, looking on in utter confusion.
While they argued, however, the smallest of them – the dark-haired man who’d spent the day in the company of his blonde companion – watched her like a hawk. They weren’t allowing her a single moment’s reprieve – not unless she was in the small extra bedroom, by herself, consumed with wonderings on how they would kill her.
After all, there really could be no other alternative.
Grace wasn’t sure whether or not her kidnappers had contacted her father in any attempt to get the ransom yet, but there wasn’t any question of whether or not he would pay.
He wouldn’t. And then she would meet her untimely death in whatever fashion they saw fit.
The notion kept her from sleeping her second night of captivity – though there was also something else that threatened her REM cycle: she knew that her kidnapper was in the room right next to her. He’d gone in after locking her into her bedroom – she’d heard him – and now all she could imagine was his long, toned form lying in the bed as he stared up at the ceiling, drifting off to sleep.
It was inordinate, how goddamn attracted she was to him. Of course, she didn’t want to go out with a single man Emily introduced her to, but one look into her Italian kidnapper’s eyes and she wanted to melt into a messy puddle on the floor. That sharp jaw sprinkled with dark stubble – the clean, heavenly scent of him…the fall of raven hair that framed his face, pulled back when he felt the need…he was an utterly breathtaking man.
And he was willing to kill her at a moment’s notice.
Grace remembered the glint of the ridiculously sharp knife he’d wielded in dexterous fingers to undo her bonds and she shuddered. She didn’t doubt for a moment that the man knew what he was doing – so why was she so insistent on spending time with him? It was more likely than not that she’d annoy him into putting a few slugs into her head.
Today had literally been one of the most awkward days of her life. She had sat in the same room as her kidnapper all day without saying a word to him. He’d given her half a sandwich at lunchtime, and some pasta at dinner, but apart from that, they’d barely interacted.
He seemed…angry. Angry that he was forced to tolerate her presence. It wasn’t as if she had asked to get kidnapped and the man was acting as if he could barely stand to be around her.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. When they’d picked her up, she’d looked a mess and she was sure washing her face had hardly improved her appearance. While her father seemed to constantly expound upon her beauty – at least, when it suited
He poured a brandy for himself, and for her as well, hoping the drink would send her to sleep. When he slid the glass across the counter to her, however, she made a face. “Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?”
The look he shot her would have frozen the Mediterranean and immediately, she shut her mouth and took the drink, each small sip she took making her shudder at the smooth burn of the alcohol. He stared at her, and she stared at the counter – thus beginning the great waiting game.
Thirty five hours..
Thirty five long hours.
**
Grace kept expecting to wake up – she truly did. Half of the time she didn’t know if she was in a dream or a nightmare. Her surroundings were comfortable enough, but the men guarding her weren’t very happy about the position they’d been placed in, that was for sure.
When the blonde and his partner came back from their business to find her sitting at the opposite end of the couch from her captor, their surprised expressions said it all. The blonde let loose a stream of Italian to the man she’d spent all day trying not to stare at, leaving her completely lost, looking on in utter confusion.
While they argued, however, the smallest of them – the dark-haired man who’d spent the day in the company of his blonde companion – watched her like a hawk. They weren’t allowing her a single moment’s reprieve – not unless she was in the small extra bedroom, by herself, consumed with wonderings on how they would kill her.
After all, there really could be no other alternative.
Grace wasn’t sure whether or not her kidnappers had contacted her father in any attempt to get the ransom yet, but there wasn’t any question of whether or not he would pay.
He wouldn’t. And then she would meet her untimely death in whatever fashion they saw fit.
The notion kept her from sleeping her second night of captivity – though there was also something else that threatened her REM cycle: she knew that her kidnapper was in the room right next to her. He’d gone in after locking her into her bedroom – she’d heard him – and now all she could imagine was his long, toned form lying in the bed as he stared up at the ceiling, drifting off to sleep.
It was inordinate, how goddamn attracted she was to him. Of course, she didn’t want to go out with a single man Emily introduced her to, but one look into her Italian kidnapper’s eyes and she wanted to melt into a messy puddle on the floor. That sharp jaw sprinkled with dark stubble – the clean, heavenly scent of him…the fall of raven hair that framed his face, pulled back when he felt the need…he was an utterly breathtaking man.
And he was willing to kill her at a moment’s notice.
Grace remembered the glint of the ridiculously sharp knife he’d wielded in dexterous fingers to undo her bonds and she shuddered. She didn’t doubt for a moment that the man knew what he was doing – so why was she so insistent on spending time with him? It was more likely than not that she’d annoy him into putting a few slugs into her head.
Today had literally been one of the most awkward days of her life. She had sat in the same room as her kidnapper all day without saying a word to him. He’d given her half a sandwich at lunchtime, and some pasta at dinner, but apart from that, they’d barely interacted.
He seemed…angry. Angry that he was forced to tolerate her presence. It wasn’t as if she had asked to get kidnapped and the man was acting as if he could barely stand to be around her.
She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. When they’d picked her up, she’d looked a mess and she was sure washing her face had hardly improved her appearance. While her father seemed to constantly expound upon her beauty – at least, when it suited
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