His: Tony: The Sabatini Family by Fiona Murphy (sneezy the snowman read aloud TXT) 📕

my arm, he walks me to the backseat. He opens the door and lifts me up, setting me down in the backseat. The other guy gets into the front seat. I’m barely in before he fastens my seatbelt. I blink, and he’s closed the door.

I can't believe this is happening. I'd been so close. Why did Tony send his men after me? Does he know I want to kill him? That has to be it. The man is too gorgeous to go chasing after a woman who doesn’t want him when he could get a dozen women prettier than me any day of the week.

It takes almost a half hour to get to Tony's house. In that entire time, neither of them says a word, not to me or each other. I'm a little surprised by how normal and pretty Tony's house is. It's a large two-story, four-square home. The red brick and black trim scream it was built in the early 1920s. There is a large front porch with a swing on one side of the wooden door. On the other side are two chairs with a table in front of it. A black wrought-iron gate surrounds the home. Pulling into a wide driveway, I see it leads back to a beautiful carriage house that mimics the main house.

The man parks, gets out, and opens the door for me. For a solid thirty seconds, I don’t move, just stare at him. He doesn't say anything either, just waits. The other man is already in the house. Glancing around, there is no way I can get away. He’s too big and he knows this area, and oh yeah, that’s my purse in his huge hand. With a sigh, I slide out of the backseat.

He takes me by the arm and leads me in front of him. The gate to Tony's home is open from the other guy going inside already. In the house, he closes the door and sets an alarm.

All around me, I hear classical music coming out of hidden speakers. It’s loud enough to be heard yet not so loud you couldn’t speak over it easily. As I look around, I'm once again surprised by Tony's home.

Beautiful oak hardwood runs throughout. There is wood around the doors, and the stairs are a mix oak and burnished walnut I long to run my hand over. Stained glass is in every room I see. On one side is a formal living room with classic yet comfortable-looking furniture. On the other is an office with a fireplace, a large oak desk, and a row of books along a wall. He has an actual library—every wall is filled with books. It also has oversized leather furniture and another fireplace. A large formal dining room appears to seat sixteen, and I double blink at the dramatic crystal chandelier that glitters above it.

The man guides me up the stairs, his hand firm around my arm. I’m led into a large room with a four-poster, king-sized bed. The wallpaper is white with yellow and red roses in a raised velvet. There is a large flat-screen TV on one wall, and a large standing dresser against another wall. I sag as I recognize the print on one wall—it’s the same print of Summertime by Cassatt I had in my bedroom.

I’m pulled out of wondering about Tony Sabatini having the same print by the guy finally talking. “Do you want me to tie you to the bed, or do you want me to tie you to the chair?”

“How about you don’t tie me to anything? If you aren’t going to uncuff me, then you aren’t tying me to anything.”

He sighs. “Mr. Sabatini’s orders are that you stay here until he comes back to see you. I'm gonna warn you right now. Those two windows, they don't open, and neither does the window in the bathroom. If you try and mess with the windows, it'll set off the alarm and you'll piss me off. And you'll piss off Mr. Sabatini. Trust me. You don't want to piss off, Mr. Sabatini. Me and Vito are going to be downstairs. See that in the corner? It’s a camera not an air freshener. We’ll have access to it until he gets here. But he has access to the camera from anywhere he is. He’ll see everything you do.”

Leaning down, he scares me when he lifts my leg up. I have to put my hands on the bed to keep from falling over as he takes off one shoe then another. What the hell? Without another word, he turns and leaves, taking my shoes with him.

Seriously, no shoes? Then I consider how far a person would get shoeless on the streets of Chicago. These assholes aren’t as stupid as they look. I hear him lock me in as I study the camera in the corner. Fuck.

Unable to simply sit and wait, out of curiosity, I open one of the two doors in the room. It’s a huge walk-in closet. It’s the kind of closet that has an island in it and my clothes wouldn’t make a dent in here. There is no window in here or way out at all. It’s bare, without even a hanger in it. I’m impressed there isn’t a speck of dust in it though.

Out of the closet, I open the other door and find a bathroom I can’t hold in a sigh over. I’m a sucker for a beautiful bathroom. The entire room is done in marble. It should be cold. It’s not. There is a huge wet room that could fit six people with a waterfall shower head, two rows of jets, and a removable showerhead. I long to sink into the massive, jetted tub. I’ve always loved taking a long hot bath after a rough shift. The double sink vanity has to be a single piece of marble.

The door to the bedroom opens and several thumps happen fast followed by the door slamming closed again.