“I’d like to make a deal with you,” I say.
“I’m listening.”
“This hostage situation has to end at some point, correct?”
“I suppose,” she hedges.
“Well, then my deal is simple. If I’m no longer your hostage, you need to make sure that I don’t run to the mafia and tell them what happened here today.” She seems excited by the idea that I’ve got ties to the mob, so I might as well run with it.
“Exactly,” she says, then blinks. “But how?”
“You need a guarantee that I won’t betray you. Something like collateral.”
“Okay, then what’s your collateral? Is that the money?”
“Absolutely,” I tell her. “But I’d need a guarantee from you in return. Something that shows me that you trust me. Holding me hostage could get you into a lot of trouble, so we need to be able to trust each other.”
“Oh god,” she whispers, and I sit forward, getting closer.
Reaching out, I place my hand on her knee and try not to think about how fucking soft her bare skin is.
“With this agreement you’d still be in charge.” My cock is already getting hard at the thought of what I’m asking for.
“What do you want? I don’t have anything of value.”
“I want to give you a phone,” I tell her as I let my fingers slide over her knee and then around to the back of her calf. “One where only you and I have access to it.”
“I mean a new phone would be great, but?—”
“One where you can text me how much money you want,” I say, cutting her off. “After you text me how much, then I’ll text you back and tell you what I want to see.”
“What do you want to see?”
“I told you, I want to give you money to look at you.” I let my fingers slide slowly up her calf and to the back of her knee. “I’ll tell you what I want to see and then you’ll send me a picture of it. That way you have my money, and I have your picture. It’s our agreement not to tell anyone else what happened here today.” I get even closer as my fingers slip higher up the back of her thigh. “It will be our secret.”
That’s when the buzzer for the door goes off, letting us know the pizza has arrived. Damn their thirty minutes or less motto.
Chapter 5
Leo
Everywhere Mattia stroked my bare skin last night still tingles. I’ve been in the laundromat all day, and I’ve caught myself more than once reaching down to touch the same places he had.
Now he’s all I can think about. Last night, I debated over his offer and if I should free him. I could have kept him locked up and demanded he keep touching me, but that didn’t seem like a good idea.
I shift in my chair, unable to get comfortable. It was the same thing that happened after he left and I went to bed. I tossed and turned all night with thoughts of him touching me everywhere, and my body wouldn’t settle down.
The leftover pizza in front of me doesn’t have the same appeal as it did when we ate it together. Pizza is always better the next day, but not now. In fact, it’s disappointing. Last night it was the best pizza of my life. The more I think about it, the more I consider kidnapping Mattia again.
This morning, Mattia had someone bring a phone to my apartment and drop it off for him. So far, there haven’t been any requests for pictures. Am I supposed to text him about that? There was a text message on it waiting for me that said “Good morning.” I’m not the best morning person, so I didn’t respond. It was disappointing to wake up alone, and for the first time, my place felt empty. I’m busy staring at my phone and willing Mattia to text me as a man enters the laundromat. He carries a basket over to the opposite side of the room and tosses the whole thing inside one of the washers. Then he sits down in one of the chairs close to it and plays on his phone.
There is nothing particularly strange about it, but this is the third man today who’s come in and done the same thing. I know most of the locals that use my laundromat, but I’ve never seen these men before.
Something about their vibe is off. Each of them is dressed in black slacks and a black button-up shirt. What stands out to me is the gold necklaces they have on and the fancy watches. All of it screams money, which means they shouldn’t be here.
Am I being paranoid? Are they with the mob? Did they find out about what happened yesterday, and am I on the shortlist for assassination? I chew on my bottom lip and try not to stare as I grab my sunglasses from under the counter.
As casually as possible, I slip them on so I can stare freely without them noticing. While I watch them, I think about making a go-bag, or whatever they’re called. I google what things should be included in a go-bag but only get through reading a few of the items on the list before my phone starts to ring in my hand.
