Page 61 of Ruthless Touch

My assistant’s eyes open wide in stunned amazement. “You’re telling me she’s wandering around this hotel without Raphael?”

“I told her she could the other day, and after she got upset, I didn’t think it was a good idea to make her even more unhappy. I was trying to be nice.”

“Better late than never, I guess. I’ll check the security cameras and recordings to see where she might be,” Sasha says as she hurries out of my office.

I stand at the edge of my desk hating how this night has turned out. I didn’t realize letting Sasha join us would turn into such a disaster.

A few minutes later, she rushes in, nearly tearing my office door off the hinges. “She’s gone! I saw it as clear as day on one of the terrace cameras. She walked right down the steps to the street below. She’s out there all on her own, Gideon. That’s bad.”

My heart races at the thought of what might happen to Aria without a guard accompanying her on the streets around the hotel. It’s nighttime and God only knows who’s walking around.

Even worse, one of Marcello Angeloni’s men might be in the area and pluck her off the street to take back to his boss.

Fuck!

“Get Raphael and have him meet me at the front door. Find two more security to come with us. I want her found!”

My mind whirls with the possibilities of what may be happening to Aria at this very moment. Christ, if someone lays a hand on her…if someone touches a single hair on that beautiful head of hers, I’m going to kill them. No asking questions. No threats. Just fucking kill them.

In the most painful way I can think of.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Aria

The tang of blood overwhelms my tastebuds, making me feel like I’m going to throw up. I’ve been hit before by the very man who looms over me at this moment, but never has he been so vicious in his attack.

“You fucking whore. I swear to God, Aria, before this night is over, I’m going to take out every ounce of rage I have on that pretty fucking face of yours. And then I’m going to take it out on that cunt,” Franco says, his voice pure cruelty like I’ve never experienced in my life.

I recoil in terror, but there’s little room for me to move since he’s got my hands tied behind my back and my ankles tied to the legs of the chair I’ve been in for the past hour. Closing my eyes to get a few precious moments of relief from staring into his angry face, I silently pray Gideon knows I’m gone and is out looking for me.

Then again, why would he? I told him I hated him and ran away when I wasn’t supposed to. He’s probably happy to be rid of me.

“Open your fucking eyes!” Franco barks, frightening me so every muscle in my body tenses.

I do as he commands and see his fist right before it smashes into my cheek. Pure pain radiates out from the spot where his knuckles slam into my flesh, up into my eye socket so instantly I have a splitting headache that makes tears well in my eyes.

“Please stop!” I beg, but it’s no use.

He mocks me, repeating my exact words before he slams his fist into my face again. This time hurts even more, and I can’t stop the tears from streaming out of my eyes. They roll down my swollen cheeks and into my mouth so saltiness mixes with blood on my tongue.

“Please, Franco. Stop. I’m begging you.”

That makes him step back away from me, and when I look up at him through blurry eyes, I see for the moment his rage has subsided.

“You know what, Aria. You’re right. This just isn’t as fun as I thought it would be. Time to move on, I say.”

I let myself wish he’s about to let me go, but that hope is dashed when he rips my shirt from my body, leaving it hanging in tatters against my skin. Lowering my head, I close my eyes in shame. I can’t cover myself, so my breasts are exposed, humiliating me.

“Just let me go. Please? Gideon paid you. Why wasn’t that enough?” I ask, unsure where my bravery is coming from to say words like that.

Franco reaches back and slaps me across the face. The sting makes my eyes tear up even more. God, I don’t think I can take any more of this.

“Don’t say his fucking name in my house again, you bitch!” he bellows in my face.

“I’m sorry,” I sob, unable to stop myself from crying. “I’m sorry, Franco. Please stop. That’s all I ask. Just stop.”

Those are the exact words that have always worked in the past with him whenever he became enraged at something I did. All I can do is pray to God they’ll do the same this time.