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“Why?” I ask, confused why he dressed me.
He stands up, seeming taller somehow, and lifts me back into his arms. “You look like Nina, and I like taking care of people. It’s a curse.”
I frown. He could have fooled me about the taking care of people. He only takes care of me after he drugs me and I literally can’t function without him. Dierk is twisted if he thinks Matteo is warmhearted.
He carries me down the hallway to the dining room where two plates of food are already sitting in front of our usual seats.
He leisurely drops me
into my seat. None of his men are seated at the table. I glance out the window behind him and realize it’s the middle of the day, not morning.
“How long have I been out for?” I ask.
“A few hours. I gave you a much smaller dose.”
I exhale. Only a few hours. I’m not sure if I believe him, but I need to if I’m going to keep my sanity.
I start shoveling the eggs and toast into my body without waiting for him to permit me. Despite having at least one hearty meal a day for the past couple of weeks, I’m still starving, especially after not having eaten for however long I was out.
Matteo stares at me, not touching anything but his coffee.
I try to ignore him, but it’s impossible to ignore his presence. He’s just sitting there, but I can’t enjoy the eggs I’m putting in my mouth because all I can think about is him. What he wants, what he’s thinking.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my mouth jammed full with toast.
He shakes his head, ignoring my question.
I keep eating. I’ll need it to regain strength for whatever ridiculous plan he is scheming next. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, and I can’t help but notice he’s different. Tired. Worn down.
His eyes are bloodshot like he hasn’t slept in a week or is high. His clothes are ragged like he hasn’t showered or changed in days. I notice the spots of dirt and blood scattered over his shirt and jeans. It’s not a lot, but enough to make him look like he’s been through hell and back.
“What happened?” I ask, staring at the blood. I don’t know if it is his or someone else’s.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he glances past me like I’m not here.
Strange. He usually answers all of my questions. Today though, all I get is silence.
I don’t like silence. I know from experience when the men I prosecute become quiet and stop talking, that’s when things start happening. They make one last desperate attempt to get what they want. And it’s never pretty. Someone ends up hurt or dead.
I need to keep Matteo talking. I need him to go back to the old Matteo, who was solely focused on Nina. He requires focus to keep him going. And I need him to keep his sights on getting Nina back to stay alive long enough to escape.
I eat the last drop of runny eggs with the last piece of bread, sopping up every last drop. I lean back in my chair trying to remain relaxed. Food in my stomach makes me calmer. But it won’t last, not with this Matteo.
The old Matteo was predictable, this man sitting at the table next to me is erratic. He’s dangerous. A flip has been switched, and I’m not sure how to turn the switch back off.
I have to change my plan. I have to do something daring for a chance to get out of here.
“I’ll tell you where Nina is, but I have some things I need in return.”
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t react. This is the one thing he claims he wants above everything else. The thing he kidnapped me for, but he doesn’t care.
“She’s in Monterey Bay, Jamaica.”
I wait for him to answer. For his eyes to grow big or him to grin so widely he can’t contain it. Or for him to smirk and let me know he realizes it isn’t true. He doesn’t do any of these things. He sits in his chair like I don’t exist.
I glance around. No one is in the dining room. Most of Matteo’s men are gone or are hanging around in their offices or the living room. If I got up and walked out, would anyone stop me?
I consider it for a second before I realize it’s a stupid idea. Far too risky. If Matteo were to snap to and realize I ran off, he would probably kill me when he found me.
