Читать книгу The Italian's Vengeful Seduction - Bella Frances - Страница 3

‘Drive…’ Stacey breathed. ‘Please.’

‘The least I can do,’ the guy said as he put his foot to the floor, and she felt a wrench as the force of acceleration pulled her back. She let out a gasp and automatically grabbed the seat belt.

‘It’s Ok. You’re safe with me,’ he said, looking round at her as he put more distance between them and Decker’s.

I’m safe with no man, she thought to herself. But she said nothing—only stared out of the passenger window at the blurry urban scenery.

‘It’s Ok. Try to relax. I’m taking you to hospital—to get checked out.’

Stacey squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Why did men always think they knew best?

‘Seriously, I don’t want to go to any hospital. I don’t need a bunch of X-rays.’

‘You don’t know what you need, Stacey Jackson. You never did.’

She jolted as if she’d been hit by the car all over again. She turned to face the guy. One of his eyebrows shot up in a way she knew so well. And then it all fell into place.

Her heart pulsed right up into her throat. As if she were watching an old reel of film, Stacey looked on helplessly as scene after scene of sunshine, pleasure and then hard, dark pain flashed through her mind. Marco Borsatto. The boy from the right side of the tracks—the boy she’d fallen so helplessly in love with. The boy she’d thought had fallen helplessly in love with her…