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“I’m not peeing with you in here,” I mumbled, sleep clouding my scratchy voice. “Get out.”
The room swayed in front of me. A flash of colors and lights blurred my vision as a sharp pain pierced my skull.
I pressed my fingers to my temple. “I don’t feel good.”
My head pounded like a jackhammer drilling into cement. Not another migraine, I thought as Marcello turned his back to give me some privacy. Sometimes the headaches were so bad I threw up for hours. Other times I had fucked up flashbacks and nightmares that made it impossible to tell the difference between fact and fiction.
I slid my panties down and sat on the toilet, humiliated with Marcello standing a few feet away. But with the room slipping out from under me, I didn’t care as much. I wiped, pulled up my panties, and flushed the toilet before a wave of nausea hit me like a ton of bricks.
Clutching the edge of the sink, I stared into the mirror, seeing two of myself. My reflection on the left gave me a devilish grin. The one on the right blew me a kiss.
What the fuck?
My mind played tricks on me. I should have been able to trust myself above anyone else. But when my dissociative episodes spiraled out of control, I was helpless. Like I was right now.
And then I thought of the coffee and toast Marcello had given me.
“What did you…”
As I lost my balance, Marcello scooped me into his arms and whispered, “I got you, mi regina.”
My queen.
“Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty.”
Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I flattened onto my back and glanced up at Marcello. Dressed in another dark suit, his ink-black hair was messy but styled, armed with his usual emotionless expression. A few times, I saw him crack a smile, though those moments were rare.
His long body loomed over me like a tree. “Luca’s home.”
Despite the wave of nausea sweeping over me, I didn’t miss the excitement stirring in my belly. Luca had the strangest effect on me. Love and hate were pretty much the same emotions when it concerned my devil in disguise.
“But I thought… You said Luca wouldn’t be home until the party.”
Marcello shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned. “The masquerade ball is tonight.”
I peeled the sheets from my sticky legs and sat up, fanning myself with my hand. When I had privacy, I preferred to sleep in as little clothing as possible because I woke up drenched in sweat.
“No, that’s not right,” I challenged, sure he was wrong about the day. “It’s only Thursday.”
He shook his head. “It’s Saturday.”
A gnawing pain throbbed at the base of my skull. How the hell did I lose two days?
I glanced up at Marcello, afraid of the answer, but asked anyway. “Did I have an episode?”
His head bobbed in confirmation.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “How bad was it?”
“For starters, you trashed your bedroom.”
“Yeah, I remember that.”
Of course, there was no evidence of my meltdown, the collectibles replaced by new ones, as if I had never lost my grip on reality. My bedroom looked the same, not an item out of place.
“You tried to jump from the balcony,” Marcello told me.
I gasped. “What? No way. I would never do that.”
“It’s true,” he insisted. “I found you before you jumped.”
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth like hot tar on a roof. “What happened? The last I remember, you were in the bathroom with me. The room started spinning.”
“I drugged you,” he admitted with a devious grin.
“Why would you do that?”
“I had orders.”
“You always do what you’re told?”
He nodded.
“Like a good little bitch,” I quipped, flipping my curls over my shoulder.
His nostrils flared. “Watch it.”
Marcello sank into the armchair next to the window and glanced over at me with a bored expression. Needing some space, I entered the walk-in closet, pretending to pick out an outfit.
The closet reminded me of the one Mr. Big built for Carrie in Sex and the City. Dozens of dresses and skirts hung from silky hangers. I had shirts of every style and color, designer jeans and shorts that cost more than most people’s yearly salary. Sandals, boots, and heels of varying styles and heights sat on display shelves next to a long mirror. I had everything from lacy underwear to thongs and boy shorts, thanks to my kidnappers.
Not like I needed their charity.
I flipped through the hangers, searching for something modest to wear until the party. My eyes instantly found the green Tinker Bell dress paired with golden wings. The fabric barely covered my ass and showed a significant amount of cleavage.
Luca loved showing me off to his friends. My dress screamed, Look at my queen.
Marcello’s fingers dug into my shoulders, his touch rough and possessive like he wanted to claim me for himself. I fell back into his chest, and he slid his hand up my throat, tapping his fingers against my skin, feeling my pulse pound.
