La Vita Dolce Ch. 07

He rolled his eyes as he stood. His voice rose in irritation. "Gianni this...Gianni that...WHO THE FUCK GIVES A SHIT?!!"

He swooped down and effortlessly picked her up under her arms and plunked her down on his desk, her legs dangling over the side.

Startled she leaned back away from him on her hands but he merely came to stand between her thighs and placed his hands on either sides of her hips. His face was mere inches from her own. His warm breath fanned her lips. His slate eyes were staring right into her own widened gaze. A small smile stretched his lips as his gaze darkened and his attention was drawn to her own full lips, parted as she drew quick breathes.

"Mmm," he moaned as he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him to press his engorged crotch against her mound. She whimpered in fear and immediately hate the sound that came from her own chest.

"Tell me, little one," he breathed, cupping her cheek and ran his thumb over her full trembling lips. "What will you give me if I tell you what I have done with me dear brother? How much do you wish to know?"

She swallowed hard. "Please." It was nearly a whisper.

"Ah, please what?"

Her voice was trembling. "Please tell me where his is."

His smile broadened. "And you'll give me what I want?"

He watched her wondrous eyes cloud with anger as her body went rigid. She was silent.

He roughly buried his fingers in the dark curls at the base of her head and yanked her head back. She gasped but did not cry out at the sharp pain. He looked satisfied at that. "Good," he mused. "I like my women strong. It makes them so much more entertaining to break."

There was little Natasha could do as his lips crushed hers. His hand was in her hair, bending her neck at a painful angle as he plundered her mouth.

She winced as his teeth nipped hard at her lower lip. She the coppery taste of blood entered her mouth. Trying to move slowly, so as not to distract him, her hand roamed over the desktop over papers and pens to close over a heavy round crystal paperweight.

She hit him hard. He grunted and fell heavily to his hands and knees, cursing, one hand to his temple as blood seeped between his fingers. Natasha swore flagrantly under her breath. She hadn't knocked him out but she didn't hesitate.

The paper weight dropped to the floor. She scrambled off the desk and sprinted to the large double doors, flung them open and raced into the foyer.

She didn't get far. A large hand closed around her arm and swung her around to slam against the wall. Pain exploded in her chest as her breasts were crushed against the wall. The side of her face stung. Her arm was wrenched behind her back and a huge male body was pressed against her back, holding her firmly against the wall.

She mentally kicked herself. Of course the guy would have huge gorilla-like bodyguards right outside the doors.

"Let her go, Pietro." Luca's voice was cold.

Natasha felt the weight lift from her back as her arm was released and she slowly turned but opted to keep her back against the wall. Luca stood before her, the huge bodyguard at his shoulder. He dabbed at the shallow cut on his brow with a kerchief. He sighed in mock drama as he looked at her. "Malto bene, Bella. Nice move."

Luca stepped closer and she could feel his breath on her cheek as she turned her face away. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I will forgive you that first infraction. It is only understandable that you would make a move to escape." His voice lowered menacingly. "However, only moves that will help you are the ones I'm sure you are so adept at beneath the sheets."

Natasha attempted to press herself more fully against the wall as she was being consumed by equal parts anger and fear. One thing she was not going to let this man do to her was make her beg but the fear was slowly spreading cold tendrils through her chest. She struggled to fight down the feeling.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the current situation from her mind and addressed Luca as though they were talking business. "Signore Angiolini, you don't need to add kidnapping to the nastiness between our families. Let me now and I'll make ensure that my uncle doesn't find out about this. You'll have time to get out of the country, while I find my way home. It's your only chance to avoid my uncle taking you off at the knees, perhaps literally." One raven eyebrow rose incredulously as Luca stepped back. He threw back his head and laughed, his bodyguard joining in with soft rumbling laughter. With no warning, Luca's hand snaked out, his palm slamming against her cheek hard enough that she would have fallen if not for the wall at her back.

Natasha felt blood trickle from the corner of her mouth where her lip had collided with her teeth. She thought vaguely, 'Why can't I faint? All good heroines faint!" Instead, fury chasing fear from her heart, she turned to face Luca slowly, the fury evident on her face.

Luca looked surprised. He grabbed her face in his hand, squeezing till she could have sworn she felt her jaw crack but would have died before uttering the slightest whimper of pain. "Perhaps I was wrong about you, little one. You are obviously too stupid to be of use to me. A pity. I am certain I would have found pleasure between your thighs. I'm sure my brother did. But he fails to realize that one woman is much the same as the next. You will be an example the Pezzinis and anyone else who might dare to defy the Angiolini family." He released her face and motioned to Pietro, "Get her out of my sight."

***

Natasha was smiling up at him. Gianni's chest warmed, his mouth curled into a soft smile. Then without warning, Natasha's face broke into a scream that Gianni felt in his very soul. "Gianni!"

Gianni's eyes flew open. When Gianni woke he was in a situation not so different from Natasha's. He was tied to a chair, his arms wrenched painfully behind him. His head felt like it weighed fifty pounds. With difficulty he lifted his head to peruse the room. It was an elegant office, decorated in soft crèmes and pale blues against cherry wood furniture as sunlight streamed in through tall French doors though the room was unmistakably masculine.

"Where is my niece?" came a softly menacing voice.

Gianni snapped his gaze to the dark wood desk before him. There sat Renoldo Pezzini. Renoldo Pezzini's hair was dark and wavy, coaxed precariously back from his face aquiline. Piercing blue eyes, so like Natasha's, bored in to him.

Gianni's head throbbed. "What...?"

Renoldo's hand smacked violently on the desk. His voice rose in fury. "MY NIECE! WHERE IS SHE?!"

Gianni's thoughts were slow. "Natasha..."

Renoldo stood and strode to Gianni. Grabbing a fistful of Gianni's hair, he yanked Gianni's head back. Gianni grunted and Renoldo leaned down and glared into his face. Renoldo Pezzini pressed a slim blade to Gianni's throat right below his jawline. "My niece...what have you done with her?"

"Nothing." Gianni swallowed thickly, feeling bloow well against the pressure of the blade. "I would never hurt her."

Renoldo sneered and roughly shoved Gianni's head away. "Pardon me if I don't believe you."

Gianni blinked rapidly, trying to clear his blurred vision. "My father...my brother...they have her. I am sure of it...I can get her back."

Renoldo stepped back and laughed humorlessly. "My men can get her back."

"No." Gianni shook his head. "Not bloodlessly, you can't. You go in there shooting and she could get hurt. She could be killed."

Renoldo sat on the edge of his desk, crossed his arms and looked into Gianni's face. "Why should I trust you? What are you getting out of this?"

"Nothing, sir." Gianni said quietly.

"Then why?"

"Because..."

"Because what?" Renoldo demanded.

Gianni sighed and met Renoldo Pezzini's eyes. "Because I love her."

Renoldo strode forward to put his face close to Gianni's. His eyes blazed. "If she dies," he grabbed Gianni's jaw in a crushing grip, "you die." ***

"Wake up, darling." Someone smacked her cheek sharply and Natasha lifted her eyelids. Luca was standing over her. Two of his men stood behind him. Luca leaned over her. "It's time for your film debut."

Natasha couldn't move. Her entire body was leaden and heavy. She realized with panic that she couldn't move her limbs, her head, she couldn't move her lips to speak. She was in half lying a bathtub. It was a pure white, claw footed tub. A video camera was on a tripod pointed down at her. Her eyes darted around her, taking in her surroundings. She realized with a jolt that her clothes had been removed and she was nude.

Luca's gaze roved longingly her body. Leaning over the side of the tub, he traced his fingertips over one taut brown nipple reverently. Natasha could only watch. "Such a waste," he murmured softly.

He rose smoothly as he turned the tap on the tub. He tested the water's temperature. "Wouldn't want you to get cold," he mused. He smiled down at her and patted the video camera almost fondly. He switched on the camera. "I suppose that since we do not have your dear uncle here we shall simply have to send him a video account of your death...Your uncle should like this movie. It's very avant garde, I think."

Luca smiled as her eyes widened. He leaned down and smoothed her hair back from her face as he bent and lightly kissed her immobile lips. "Rest in peace, little one."

He stood, smiling grimly as he stood and left the room. He paused in the doorway He flipped a mock salute and looked quizzical. "Actually, I take that whole 'rest in peace' bullshit back. Farewell, Signorina Pezzini," his smile turned as icy, "may you burn in Hell along with the rest of your line."

Natasha felt earnest dread crash down upon her as the door closed behind him. By her estimate there was a full foot-and-a-half of fillable space over her head. She was going to drown in this bathtub. She began struggling to focus, struggled to move her limbs, anything to get her out of this tub.

But her limbs remained immobile despite her efforts. The drug they had given her was painfully slow in wearing off. She could now move her neck and head slightly, but it wasn't enough. Fighting a panic that grew in direct proportion to the filling of the tub, she tried to think rationally of an escape. But no astounding movie-heroine solution appeared to her.

It seemed as though hours, or was it just minutes, went by. She was straining every muscle to keep her head above the rising water. She felt the warm water creep up her neck, into her ears, over her jaw.

Closing her eyes, she pictured Gianni's face. Tears slid from her eyes. As the water began to slip into her eyes, her composure, the tatters that were left to her, fell away abruptly and she opened her mouth and screamed the only word left in her distressed mind. "Gianni!" ***

Gianni brought the black BMW sedan to a stop the driveway of the large villa. The two men standing guard at the door straightened as he got out and came towards them. They moved in front of the door, blocking his entrance.

Frowning he removed his dark shades and glared at them. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

One of the men swallowed hard and paled. "We were ordered not to let you in."

He lowered his eyelids to half-mast, bringing his chin up an inch. Menace dripped from each syllable of his softly spoken words. He radiated power and aggression. "By whom?"

"By Signore Luca." He stammered.

"Why?"

The man shrugged. "We were not told why. It is not our place to question."

Gianni's jaw clenched and he stepped closer to the man. His words hissed out through clenched teeth. "And who are you going to listen to, my sniveling little brother or me? I'm going to be running this family one day soon. You had best decide where your loyalties lie."

The men glanced nervously at each other before they stepped aside and Gianni strode into the villa. He raced up the stairs and slammed through the doors of his brother's office. Luca sat behind the desk, his expression quickly changing from surprise to malignant amusement. "Gianni," he drawled and stood.

Gianni covered the space between them in an instant and sent his fist crashing into his brother's jaw.

Luca went down hard but he did not stay there for long. Gianni reached down and grabbing his jacket lapels, he hauled Luca to his feet. He shook him hard. "Where is she?"

Luca smiled a lopsided grin. "Where is who, dear brother?"

Gianni tightened his grip. "Natasha Pezzini, where is she? Tell me, now!"

"Oh, her."

"Where?!" Gianni drew back his fist and struck Luca again. Hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to render him unconscious. He could waste time waiting for Luca to regain consciousness before finding her.

Luca barely stood on his own. "She's a pretty little thing, you know...beautiful body...such lips..." Gianni's stomach clenched but he held his temper waiting for Luca to continue. "...she's defiant too. I had to...discipline her..."

Fury sweeping over him Gianni reached into his shoulder holster and wrenched out his gun. He pressed the barrel painfully up into Luca's ribcage. "Where?" he growled.

Luca laughed softly as blood began to pour from his nose. "You'd kill your own brother?"

"This brother?" Gianni said, "Yes."

Luca's eyes narrowed. "For that slut?!" Gianni pressed the gun harder into Luca's ribcage and drew back the hammer with a loud click when Luca shouted "Fine!" A smile slipped over his face. "She's in one of the cellars, drawing her last breath as we speak." A lazy smile slid over his face. "You remember that lovely little bathtub..."

With a cry of rage, Gianni tore down the stairs. Upstairs in the office, Pietro lay crumpled upon the floor, unconscious.

After checking door after door Gianni burst into the final room. He quickly took in the scene before him; the small, dark room, the lone antique bathtub in the center, water spilling over the sides. Looking into the tank, he saw Natasha, her ebony locks floating around her face like a cloud. Her eyes were closed. She looked as though she were sleeping She was unrestrained. Why wasn't she moving, getting out of the tub? His breath left him as though he had been kicked in the stomach. She wasn't moving.

With a cry, he plunged his arms into the tub and he pulled her into his arms. He hauled her limp form into his arms as he sat and pulled her into his lap. He smoothed the wet strands of her dark hair back from her pallid face. "Natasha! Natasha, I'm here. You're safe, my love."

He held her close to his chest, willing her to absorb his warmth. Still, her eyes remained closed. Dropping her to the ground, Gianni knelt beside her and listened to her chest. He heard nothing. "No!!"

Gianni tipped Natasha's head back and, gently closing her nose with his thumb and forefinger, he blew his breath into her mouth. After several breaths, he slammed his fist into her chest in an attempt to start her heartbeat. He repeated his actions several times, his panic increasing each time he pressed his fingers to her throat and found no pulse. Once again, he pulled her limp body against his own.

Feeling her slipping from him, Gianni felt as though his heart were being torn from his chest. He squeezed her body tightly to him. The pain was more than he could bear. He held onto her tightly, as though just by pure will alone, he could keep her there.

Natasha gasped. "You're choking me," she wheezed. Gianni started, and hurriedly helped her to turn as she began to cough, then held her while she rid herself of the water in her lungs and stomach. Her small body thrashed violently as coughing racked her body. Finished, she lay back in his arms, her eyes on his face. She sighed. Raising her hand, she touched his cheek, her fingers coming away wet with his tears. "Gianni? Where did you come from?"

Gianni exhaled a near sob as he pulled her so tightly against his chest she thought her ribs might break. He had come so close, so very close, to losing his her. He doubted he would ever forget how it had felt to be without her even for a few seconds. How had this happened? How had she fought her way into his heart? He couldn't explain it. It frightened him.

Gianni smiled softly. "Welcome back, bella. I simply walked in. It's my house." He said as he lifted her into his arms and stood

"And you're just going to walk back out of here?" He wondered why no one had yet entered the room to stop him. He wasn't about to wait around for anyone to realize their mistake. He set her away from him a moment before shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around her nude body. He stood, keeping her in his arms.

He should have known she wouldn't be docile. "I can walk, you know."

Gianni merely snorted.

Natasha kept her voice low to placate him, "Don't you think if a bunch of bad guys were going to come running in here it might make more sense for you to take the lead while I slink along three paces behind you like good little girl?"

An unwilling smile raised the corners of Gianni's mouth. She did have a point. He gently lowered her to the ground, wondering how quickly he would regret that action.

Natasha blinked, attempting to steady herself as Gianni took her shoulders . Then she looked up at Gianni, frustration furrowing her brow

Gianni smiled down at her. He reached out and tenderly brushed a lock of ebony from where it had fallen over her right eyebrow. Natasha started to pull away, but as soon as his flesh touched her own she leaned into his touch. "I thought your near death experience might have dulled your senses, making it difficult for you to walk." His smile widened. "But it would seem that you have not been overly affected. I should have known"

He grabbed her hand. "Let's go." He peeked out into the hall before he led her to towards away from the stairway.

"Gianni? Where are we going? The stair's the other way."

He led her around the corner to an elevator. There was no up or down button, simply a keypad. He punched in some numbers and the doors slid open. The interior of the elevator was mirrored with brass and cherrywood trim. Once the doors slid closed.

Gianni punched another set of numbers into the keypad inside the elevator and when the doors opened a luxurious suite was revealed.

"Gianni, what is this?" she asked as he led her inside. "Don't you think we should be getting out of here?"

Releasing her hand he went to a tall armoire and took something out. When he came back he had a dress and stilettos in his hands. When he handed them to her eyebrows shot upwards. "I suppose you just had these lying around?"

He shook his head and went to his desk. "They belonged to Marcella."

Natasha frowned. "Who's Marcella?"

"My fiancé." Gianni answered absently as he dug through his desk drawer. He looked up at her standing there. "My ex-fiancé"

She held up the dress looking dubious.

"What?" he asked.

She blinked and looked at him. "Nothing."

Without another word, Natasha tossed the dress over a chair. She shrugged out of the damp sport coat which covered her nakedness.

Gianni watched her open mouthed, his eyes roving over her body. He tore his gaze away and endeavored to keep his attentions on the contents of his desk. She wasn't paying him any attention as she picked up the dress and pulled the slinky white material over her head. The white dress fit like a glove, dipping low at the neck in the front and back, exposing her perfect skin. It was short revealing her long golden legs.

With a sigh she slipped her feet into the stiletto sandals. Tossing her hair out of her face she glanced at him and pouted. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of the dress. "I look slutty."

He glanced up at her and froze. Looking like a man under a spell he walked around the desk and came to stand before her. With a sly smile he slipped his arms around her. "That's the idea, luv." He placed a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose. He tousled her hair, placed a pair of Armani sunglasses on her and smiled. "Perfect."