Anna stared at Vincenzo, confusion flooding her features as she searched his face.
“W-what?” Her voice caught. “W-what do you mean?” She swallowed hard. “W-why are y-you telling me to get out of the car?”
“Get out of the f*****g car,” Vincenzo growled.
Anna flinched at his voice. “But how will I—”
“Rodrigo will take you home.” He jerked his chin toward the window, and she followed his gaze.
A man stood outside the car, his silhouette outlined against the headlights of another vehicle parked a few feet away.
Rodrigo.
She had seen him before. He was one of Vincenzo’s men, a solid figure with a broad chest and a face that gave nothing away.
Anna opened her mouth to speak to Vincenzo, to ask why he was telling her to get out of the car, to ask what she had done wrong, to ask if he was
