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I searched her face and for the first time I saw it…that darkness. The savage I’m sure all of Colombia had encountered.
“I can’t offer you another mafia, like your mother did your father, but I can offer myself, and believe me, I am a mob on my own,” she added.
“And in exchange, I make you my wife—”
Her lips were on mine again, this time harder, her body pressed against mine tightly, her mouth opening for my tongue…and the moment my hand cupped her breast she broke away.
“Your skepticism is back,” she said against my lips.
“So, you’re distracting me with sex?”
“I’m shelving the conversation. I’m in no rush to win you over to my side.”
Her side? Wasn’t she trying to get on my side?
I wanted to ask her…but sex first.
CALLIOPE - AGE 21
Bogotá, Colombia
Monday, July 1st
When I woke up the chain was off my leg and he was sitting up in the bed typing on his computer, dressed in only his black boxer briefs. When he heard me shift his green eyes glanced down at me.
“Am I free to go now, boss?” I whispered, curling up into a ball beside him. He didn’t speak, his cold gaze fell on me.
“Will you leave if I let you go?” he asked emotionlessly.
“Yes.”
“You’re free to go,” he muttered before looking back to the screen.
Rolling my eyes, I sat up and really focused on the room we were in for the first time. This was the same place he brought me before. I’d taken a look around after I had shot him two days ago. His safe house was built underground. It looked like a mechanic’s shop on the top floor, and when you came down the elevator there was a living room which was connected to the underground cocaine field, as well as the room he had the damn kidnappers put me in. There was another exit leading to a gas station I’m sure he owned too.
We were on the last floor, a large bedroom, or better yet bunker within a bunker. But never one to forgo comfort, the place was all luxury. Plush cream-colored Italian carpets with gold trimmings, a wooden dining table in front a wall of wines, deep blue and gold velvet couches, there was even a chandelier hanging from the cloud painted ceiling.
“Doesn’t seem like your style,” I observed when my feet touched the carpet. “But I enjoy it.”
“This place used to belong to my mother,” he spoke from behind me.
I should have known.
“Where is the restroom?” I asked him.
“First door to your left.” He was typing again. I got up and walked in the direction he indicated. The lights turned on as I entered the room. Leaning against the sink, I checked my reflection in the mirror. It was only in the glass did I notice there was a sealed new toothbrush and toiletries all laid out.
What is he up to? This seemed a little too considerate for him. Nevertheless, I unpacked the toothbrush and brushed my teeth. I’d let it go for now. Instead I took the time to just clean up a bit, taking care of myself first. The hot towel on my skin felt heavenly. When I came out he was still there, unmoving against the pillows. I walked back the to bed and laid down, closing my eyes.
“You didn’t take a shower?” he asked me.
“We’ll take one together when you’re done.”
“I’ve already taken one.”
“That was stupid. We’re going to get dirty again very soon,” I informed hi
m, and for the first time I heard him stop typing. He glanced down at me and I looked up. “Or are you tired of me already?”
