Page 27 of Jealous Vows

My wrists throb from the cuffs.They aren’t tight but harsh; unforgiving metal and delicate, sensitive skin are a bad mix.My ankle stings a bit from inadvertently tugging it while throwing up, but the discomfort is nothing compared to the agony in my shoulder.

I drink half the water bottle before deciding any more might cause me to lose it all, so I twist the cap back on and wedge it between my thighs on the seat.

No longer on the verge of death, I take in my surroundings.Confusion tightens my brow.

Romeo clearly kidnapped me.By all expectations, he should have dragged me to a dark and damp, windowless basement or a big rusty metal building in an industrial park or, at the very least, some shady roach motel, but we’re back in my posh hotel room.My clothes still sit folded and stacked on the dresser.

The chair I’m sitting in wasn’t here before and the rug full of abstract black-and-white shapes is gone.

Romeo lifts the heavy desk chair with one hand and sets it in front of me.When he sits, his knees almost brush mine.He leans forward and braces his elbow on his thighs, invading my space and bringing his face down, level with mine.

He dangles a bag of chips from his fingertips, but I’d have to reach between his legs to take it, so I don’t dare.I uncap my water and take another sip.He watches with eyes that see everything.My stomach lurches.

“Why can’t you eat prepared food or drink opened beverages, Sienna?”

His calm, understanding voice almost lulls me into taking the path of truth, but the horror is too much.My shaking worsens so a lot of water sloshes onto my hand.

Wasting such a precious resource snaps something inside me.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.Not after what you just did to me,” I snarl.

He hums, rises, and tosses the bag of chips onto my lap before throwing a warning over his shoulder as he leaves the room.

“Drink every drop and eat every crumb, Sienna.You’ll need every last bit to survive what I plan to do to you.”

The door to the hall shuts behind him.I strain my ears for signs of other occupants in the hotel room, but hear nothing except the hum of the air conditioning.Regret sneaks into my chest.

He left just like everyone else.I should have asked him so many questions before giving him attitude.Yes, he hurt, scared, and humiliated me, but he also saved, helped, and protected me.

As of right now, he’s the only one on the planet who even cares that I exist.

It doesn’t excuse his behavior, but I’ll never be able to forgive myself if I don’t figure out why he did everything he did.

I open the bag of chips and nibble my way to the bottom.After pouring the crumbs into my mouth, I fold the plastic and tuck the end into itself so it’s a tiny square and place it on the floor beside back leg of my chair.

The chair doesn’t budge.I wriggle.When it still doesn’t move, I grip the front edge of the seat and brace my feet on the floor, nearly rolling my ankle in the high heels from the odd angle, but I fix my stance and try picking it up.

The legs must be bolted into the floor.The chair doesn’t even creak when I yank.I finish the water before standing and pivoting around as much as my cuffed ankle allows.After pushing and pulling on the back of the chair, I confirm I will not be escaping by scooting across the floor.

In a moment of madness, I grab the desk chair and plop into it instead of the hard, wooden monstrosity.I grimace at the mess between my legs but lean back to await my miserable fate.

Between one breath and the next, exhaustion pulls me into a doze.Even with Romeo’s threat ringing in my ears, I can’t conjure up the energy to try escaping.

Where would I go anyway?He’d no doubt cancel his card.I only have forty dollars and my ID.No one wants me.Valentina andZioMario have moved on without me.My father doesn’t give a shit about me, and my stepmother wants to sell me to the lowest bidder.

The door opens.I jerk awake.I rub my face with my bound hands and wince as the cuffs knock against my chin.

Romeo lifts the desk chair like it weighs nothing—with me still in it—and sets it so the side with my bound ankle rests against the front of the wooden chair.He leans down and braces his palms on the armrests.

“Are you ready,bambolina?”

“No,” I grumble.

He lifts a mocking brow.

“Aw, I was hoping you’d say yes,” he teases.

“Of course you were,” I huff.