Dont Forget Me

Prologue

...

Vincenzo's POV

Milan, Italy

"Lay one finger on her, Aldo, and I fucking swear-'

A hard slap lands on my cheek, sending me-and the chair I am tied to-to the ground on one side.

Gravity immediately strains my body against the cords that hold me firmly to the wooden chair. This is definitely the worst position to be in right now, but that is currently the least of my worries.

Aldo stands with a gun pointed at Cassie's head. She is tied too, crying, and straining against the cords, and the duct tape restraining her.

My heart is shattering into a million fragments at the sight of this, and I'm struggling against my restraints, but obviously it's of no use.

At this point I would give anything, and everything without hesitation to stop him from pulling the trigger.

"Go easy on him, Bastian. Death is already at his door," Aldo chuckles dryly. Then he turns to me, "You know, this all seems too familiar," he says, nodding. His pistol is still trained on Cassie's head.

"Ah, yes. Your father said those exact words right before I shot your mother. Yet nothing happened. It's all too similar," he chuckles dryly again.

"Well, except for the fact that she is pregnant, with your child," he says, cocking the gun.

My eyes widen in horror, and surprise as I look from him to her.

Cassie's face is flooded with tears, and she nods.

"I'm gonna kill you!" I yell, pushing myself off the floor.

Then the gunshot rings out.

...

One

Vincenzo's POV

New York, USA

"Lorenzo, I bet you the red McLaren; that Asian chick wakes up in my bed tomorrow morning. You game?" I wink at my cousin, taking a sip of my drink.

The club lights spin around us, making my smile appear more devious.

Lorenzo follows my gaze to the girl in question.

There are a couple of girls on the dance floor, but with the way she's moving her body, I'm sure he immediately understands which one.

"Eh," he shrugs, turning back to me.

"She looks like trouble," he warns, sipping his drink.

"The hot kind," I smirk, putting my drink to my lips again. "Come on, have some fun, man," I play-punch him.

"Today's the last day of February."

"Actually, tomorrow is the last day. This year's a leap year," Lorenzo corrects, and sips his drink again. "But that's still no reason to go crazy, Vincenzo," he adds with a careless roll of his eyes.

However, I'm already on my feet.

"When have I ever?" I ask, going for the kill while he watches with a resigned sigh.

The nightclub is in full flow; the loud music, half-naked bodies, and flashing lights create an atmosphere of ecstasy that seems almost surreal.

A feat achieved with the aid of drugs currently being released through strategic vents making the club seem like a vortex of noise and light as I make my way to the dance floor.

I easily get into the flow of her dance, and she doesn't hesitate to let me explore her curves as we move rhythmically to the beat of the song.

I match her moves with perfect chemistry, and we go on for a few minutes when I finally raise my hand, and give the signal.

The DJ immediately switches the song.

"Oh!" The girl complains loudly.

"Happens every time," I sigh exasperatedly, like I'm not the one behind the sudden change.

"A drink?" I ask, sharing a wink with the DJ.

"Sure, Vincenzo," she smiles, leading the way.

I pause, taken aback slightly.

How does she know my name? I ask myself, squinting.

If she knows my name, Lorenzo is probably right, she is trouble.

But watching her ass strain against that postcard disguised as a skirt as she walks to the bar, I just know I have to have her.

We slide onto stools at the counter, and I order a pornstar martini for us both.

"Have we met before?" I ask, still slightly bugged by the fact that she knows my name, and I don't hers.

"No," she murmurs, playing with the buttons of my shirt.