He stood there, blocking the door, staring at her with his dark, piercing, accusing eyes. She rolled hers. “Fine. Not that it’s any of your business, but I took a couple of punches. Hurts like hell but only bruises.”
Dario had his phone and was texting fast, one-handed.
“Great. Sending that little bit of info straight to your boss? Is that really necessary? He doesn’t need to know.”
Dario just looked at her and then opened the door. Emmanuelle could see that Valentino had cleaned up. He’d taken a shower and changed his bandages. His color was far better. He looked fresh, and she looked … wilted. The moment she walked into the master bedroom, his dark eyes moved over her, assessing her for the damage Dario had reported.
“Come here, Princess.” His voice was low, a soft melody that immediately sent a wave of comfort along her nerve endings, spreading through her body and finding the bruises.
She heard his swift intake of breath and knew he shared the pain, that he’d found just where she was injured. Their connection was so strong it was frightening. He held out his hand to her, his gaze on her face, eyes meeting hers.
She didn’t want to go to him. She almost couldn’t bear his touch, but then starting out first thing with him in any kind of altercation while her brothers were in the room was a losing situation all the way around. What did it matter if they were skin to skin? He was already inside, twisted and knotted in every nerve ending she had, wrapped around her heart and maybe even her soul.
She made certain she went to the side of the bed where the light would highlight her shadow, and if he moved, his. Her brothers had come to see what their combined shadows looked like, and she was determined to allow them to see, even if that meant Valentino’s shadow would be able to overpower hers even more. She hadn’t mentioned her fear of that to Stefano. Maybe she should have.
She’d been so careful to keep her shadow safe from Val ever since she realized he knew what was happening and was deliberately imprisoning her. Sometimes, like now, she was afraid, feeling as if it were too late for her, and she was already his prisoner and she couldn’t escape. When that happened, she wanted to fight her way out.
Emmanuelle wasn’t a quitter. She wasn’t a fleer. She was programmed to be a fighter. A survivor, and she would fight to the death.
“Baby, stop.” Val’s thumb slid over the back of her hand. “What’s wrong? Just breathe. You did this earlier, as if you’re having an anxiety attack.”
His voice was pitched low, and he had leaned forward, his lips against her ear. When he spoke, the movement against her skin was sensual, as it could only be with Val. She felt each stroke slide deep, an arrow of pure fire shooting to her sex. She didn’t want to feel the way she did about him. She didn’t want him to be the one to make her feel so alive, but he always managed to when no one else could.
“I told them as much as I could about us, Val. I had to.” She made her confession, feeling as if she’d betrayed him.
“It’s all right, Emme. I expected you to. We just have to be very careful who finds out about this. There are men who would try to take you and some of the others.”
Stefano approached the bed, but stayed at the foot of it. Ricco did as well. Both were very aware of Dario closely watching their every move without seeming to.
“We’d like to see your shadows,” Stefano said. “If you could shift positions so you’re to the left of that light fixture, your shadow will hit the wall next to Emme’s.”
Emmanuelle’s heart began to pound. Adrenaline poured into her body as Valentino once again turned his head to meet her gaze. This time, his eyes held hers. Dark green. Incredibly sensual. He obeyed Stefano slowly, shifting his body those few inches until his shadow moved, a dark phantom on the wall. The moment that velvety apparition appeared close to hers, thick ropes reached for her shadow, quickly looping around it.
The moment the first rope touched her shadow, Emmanuelle felt the brutal sexual jolt hit her like a freight train. It was vicious, a firestorm, rushing through every nerve ending, lighting her up with a million white-hot flames. Val’s hand tightened around hers, nearly crushing hers, and his eyes went hungry, the lines in his face carved deep with a mixture of something she couldn’t name and pure carnal lust.
The ropes swarmed so fast to her shadow, it was a takeover. The shadows were too close. Her shadow was already weighed down, unable to move quickly out of the way, even when she tried to pull away from Val. His hand clamped down tighter over hers, and he pulled her closer to him, edging their shadows inches closer, giving his shadow more of an advantage.
Emmanuelle noticed each time the ropes themselves were different, as were the knots and loops binding her. These ropes seemed to sink into her shadow, merging with it. They were thicker and the knots so intricate she could barely process them before they were sinking into her shadow among all the other ropes with their loops and knots.
“Turn off the light,” Stefano ordered.
Valentino didn’t react to the command. He pulled Emmanuelle to him and took her mouth. She heard thunder in her ears. Lightning struck a million places in her body all at once. There was chaos reigning in her mind. She felt pure fire rushing through her veins like a firestorm out of control. She nearly crawled onto the bed with Val to get closer to him, to feed that wicked craving that wouldn’t let up, wouldn’t let go, just fed and fed, growing stronger and stronger until she needed to straddle Valentino and take everything her body demanded. She pulled back abruptly before she lost herself completely.
The ropes were too heavy. Her shadow was completely lost. She was lost. She knew she was. There was no saving her, no matter what Ricco tried to do. She looked up at Valentino, meeting his eyes, seeing the knowledge there. Forcing herself to see that not only did he trap her deliberately, but he did so without remorse.
“The light.” This time Stefano snarled the word, a low, harsh command, and he was already striding around the bed toward the offending and very expensive sconce on the wall. It was clear he had every intention of smashing it.
Dario snapped off the light. “Sorry. Was a little slow.”
Emmanuelle knew he was giving Val more time to trap her in those heavier ropes, the ones that sank through her shadow into her skin. She felt every one of them penetrate deep, binding Valentino to her even tighter until there didn’t seem a way to separate.
She turned her head to look at Ricco, her only hope. Her one real hope. Ricco, the rope master. He knew every knot known to man. If there was one person on the face of the earth who might have been able to free her, it was her brother. She had been unaware of anything or anyone but Val when he was kissing her, when their shadows were touching, but Ricco had stepped close to study the knots.
Ricco remembered everything. He would be able to draw an exact duplicate of what he had seen on the wall, even though it was gone. There were so many ropes, so many knots. All different, all various sizes and shapes. All tangled together. And now, so many sinking into her shadow, and how could she tell them, into her body?
Ricco’s eyes met hers. He gave a small shake of his head to indicate to her to stay silent. He didn’t want to speak yet in front of Valentino and Dario.
“You trapped Emmanuelle’s shadow, Val,” Stefano said, moving back across the room to take one of the very comfortable chairs facing the bed. “Why?”