Rachel was proud of herself for staying calm, speaking like a sane adult, and not slapping him again. How had she been so attracted to this jerk two months earlier? He radiated command as if it were a part of his skin, and she couldn’t stand men who thought they were lord and ruler of everything around them.
“I don’t think you understand, Rachel. This matter isn’t up for discussion. We will wed. My child won’t be born away from my country.”
The calmness of his voice frightened her far more than his words did.
“I won’t marry you because of a child, Ian. You have got to be joking. It’s time you leave before I call the authorities,” she warned him as she moved toward the door.
The confident smile that appeared on his face made her stomach drop to her knees. What had she gotten herself into?
“You are still quite the wildcat, Rachel. I haven’t been able to get you from my mind these last two months. It won’t be such a hardship for me to have you as my wife.” He leaned toward her and lifted his hand to her face.
Rachel raised her arm to slap him again, but he quickly grabbed it. When she lifted the other arm, he grabbed that too, then carefully pushed her against the wall. Pressing his body against hers, she felt his arousal pressing against her stomach as his head descended.
“Mmm, yes, being married to you won’t be a bad thing at all,” he said as he kissed the corner of her mouth.
“Get away from me,” she cried, wishing the words were more forceful. As angry as she was, as confused, and frightened, she still felt a pulse of desire in her core at his nearness. The man had done things with her body that she’d never imagined could be done.
“For now, amore mio,” he said, his lips taking hers for just a moment.
Ian released her and then walked through the door.
“I am not your love,” she said, snapping out of the trance that he’d just put her in from a simple connection of their lips.
Just before she managed to shut the door in his face, happy to have the last word, he turned back around.
“My guard will keep an eye out for you until I return.”
She knew he was telling her there was no need to run away — that he would simply follow her. Well, he could just stick it, she thought, slamming the door with extra emphasis.
Leaning against the cool wood, Rachel wondered what she was going to do next. The one thing she knew for sure was that it was time to go home. Making a phone call to her brother, she asked him send the jet for her.
She needed her family right now — it was time to face the music.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lia
“No. Please — stop!”
It was a rare day off from their work on the island and Lia felt pure contentment as she walked down the street of the market, hand in hand with Shane.
That was, until she turned to see a young boy taking off down the street with a woman’s purse. It all happened so quickly, and the crowds around them turned to watch, but no one stepped forward to help.
“Stay here,” Shane yelled to her as he began chasing after the boy.
Like hell she would.
After her initial shock, she bolted after him, but she lost the trail as he was swallowed up in the crowd. She slowed to a walk and looked around, searching for any signs of him or the boy. She had no idea where the two of them could have disappeared to.
She was getting ready to pass an alley when she noticed two figures standing tensely just inside the shadows. She looked again and saw that one of them had a knife.
And the other one was Shane.
He was in a face-off with the boy, and the situation seemed to be escalating.
Without thinking for a minute of her own safety, Lia ran into the alley, joining the two of them. Neither looked in her direction; their gazes were locked together. People were walking by the alley, but no one even glanced in the direction of the two apparent adversaries.
Were such crimes such a common thing that no one was going to help? Or was it that they were too afraid? This was something that Lia wasn’t used to, and she didn’t know what to do at this point.
“You don’t want to do this. Just put the knife down. Let’s have a chat,” Shane said in fluent Italian, his voice low and firm, but not unfriendly.
“You’re just another rich guy. You don’t give a crap about me!” the kid yelled. He couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old. His face was hardened, but there was still an innocent light about his eyes, even while he glared daggers at Shane.
“I know a lot, kid. I used to be just like you, stealing tourists’ items to get by, sneaking food whenever and wherever I could, including from garbage cans. I’ve been there, but I got out. Let me help you. This world hasn’t hardened you too much yet. You can turn this around.”
The kid looked at Shane with distrust, but was unable to hide the flicker of hope in his eyes. He wanted a better life — Lia could see it. She wanted to step in and give him a hug, his dirty clothes, face, and all, but she knew better than to spook a wild animal, and that was how he was acting at this moment — like an animal with everything to lose.
“What could you know? Your clothes alone could feed all of us kids for a month,” he snapped, lowering the knife slightly, but still making sure Shane could see it and that he wasn’t afraid to use it.
“Have you stabbed someone before, kid? Seriously plunged a knife into real human flesh? It’s not as easy as it looks. The flesh resists being stabbed, then makes a sickening sound as the blade goes in, quite possibly piercing a person’s organs. Have you seen the light go out of someone’s eyes? It’s not a pretty sight to behold, especially if you know that you’re the one guilty of taking a life. It’s not easy to live with that knowledge.”
“How would you know?” the boy screamed, his eyes filling with tears that he refused to let fall as he looked wildly at Shane.
Lia looked again toward the street, at the crowds only twenty yards away. At the screaming a couple of heads turned to look in, but the people didn’t even slow down; they kept on walking, quickly deciding not to get involved. How could they be so oblivious and so callous? Why wouldn’t anyone stop to help Shane?
Shane spoke simply to the boy. “Because I have taken a life.”
Lia gasped at his words, making his shoulders tense, but he still focused on the kid, didn’t turn in her direction. What was he talking about? He couldn’t have taken a life. She’d known him half her life. He wasn’t a killer.