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ALFIE
Sleep weighed my eyelids as I shifted, comfort seeping into me.
Feeling warm after so many cold nights was exquisite. A heavy weight settled around my waist, and forcing my eyes open, I looked down at the thick arm circling me. Petros must have pulled me into him while we slept. The tender touch was most likely accidental, but it filled me with the first hope I’d felt since they took me. Shifting against my pillow, I turned to face him, awkwardly jerking with the way my cuffs were fixed to the headboard. The sudden motion woke him, his sleep-laced eyes blinking at me in confusion. He didn’t immediately remove his arm from my stomach, almost as though he was trying the moment out for his liking.
No light entered the stone room as he rolled onto his back, my breath hitching as his hand skimmed my stomach.
‘Morning,’ he said, grabbing his phone from the bedside table before cursing. ‘I need to go out for a bit.
‘Take me with you?’
Petros shook his head, his deep eyes roaming over my face. ‘I can’t. Harriet will be pissed enough to find your cage empty if she ever decides to go look. Taking you outside would have her peeling my bollocks like grapes before feeding them to me.’
The image made me clench my thighs. No, I definitely didn’t want any bollock peeling action.
‘I won’t be long. Thirty minutes or so. I just need to go out and grab a few things.’ Petros hesitated for a second, his hand halfway to reaching towards me. My pulse picked up. But then he rolled off the bed and pulled on some fresh clothes. I couldn’t help but admire the deep olive expanse of his back as he changed. The defined muscles that led to his thick arms.
He left the room after grabbing his keys and phone, leaving me cuffed to the bed. A loud click sounded as he locked the door behind him.
What the hell was wrong with me? I’d gone straight to salivating over one of my captors. Logically, I knew I’d been starved of humanity for too long. Maybe I was suffering from some sort of Stockholm Syndrome or something. It was as healthy as the rest of my fucked-up sex life, to be fair. Throw me a smile, and I was on my knees and ready to worship.
Pathetic.
If I got out, I had to change things. Stop the ego-affirming one-night stands, and search for real connection. Build up friendships, hell, even tell the McGowan’s how much they meant to me. If I made it out.
A few minutes passed while I looked around Petros’ room. It was neat and fairly bare. The furniture was mismatched and scratched. Cobbled together almost. The same curved stone ceilings made up their rooms as had formed the frame of my cell. It had to be some sort of tunnel system. Aged by the look of the cast iron pipework that truncated the space.
A rattle echoed about the room, drawing my eyes to the door. A loud clanging rang out from the other side of the door, along with a feminine grunt.
What the fuck?
Wood splintered and the door swung into the room. Harriet stood, rim lit in the doorway, her chest heaving. Her hand gripped around a large wrench, which she threw onto the stone floor. It skittered to a stop near the base of the bed. Anxiety stormed through me as she neared me, her face twisting into a devilish grin.
‘‘There you are, I thought we’d lost you.’’
Her eyes grazed over my loaned jogging bottoms and the cuffs still holding me to the bed.
‘‘So, you’ve managed to get to Petros, I see? I should have known he’d be fucking weak. How could he stand up to a desperate little snake like you?’
‘He’s spent his whole life around them, why would I be any different?’ I said, hoping my words held more bluster than I had to put behind them.
‘Are you insinuating that I’m a snake, Alfie?’
‘I mean, if the tattoo fits.’
Her eyes closed as she inhaled deeply, her tongue darting out to trace her lower lip. ‘Everything you say just makes me want to hurt you more.’
Harriet took a seat next to me on the bed before reaching into her cargo pants pocket. She produced multiple long strips of plastic, and my eyes widened as I realised they were cable ties.
I struggled as she climbed on top of me, pinning my legs with her thighs. Despite bucking like a rodeo horse, I didn’t yet have the energy back to unseat her. The ties tightened around my ankles before she attached them to the footboard at the end of the bed, holding me stretched tightly.
‘Let me go,’ I puffed, still jerking my body beneath her.
‘No.’ She turned, straddling my hips. With a grin on her face, she reached into her pocket and pulled her flick knife free. Beads of sweat broke out over my body as the memory of Westley’s guts flew into my mind. ‘It’s time to talk, Alfie.’
‘I don’t know anything about my dad. He slapped me on the back when I threw a sexually charged party or was caught with my dick somewhere it ought not to be. We didn’t have a relationship. He never confided in me.’
‘He left you his home and his wealth, are you trying to tell me that he never told you anything? Why would I believe you, liar?’ She scratched the very tip of the blade along my stomach as I squirmed.
