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Enzo—that’s his name. Why is he doing this to me? He gets off on it, that much is obvious. He enjoys watching me suffer. I don’t even know this guy, but he takes morbid delight in tormenting me. I touch my cheeks where he licked away my tears. It was revolting.
So why did it make my heart flutter? Not to mention the fluttering down below. Wasn’t it bad enough that I got wet last night? It’s like my body has a mind of its own. Is it a stress reaction? I’m going to call it that because I don’t like thinking about what this says about me, the kind of person I am. Who gets wet when a psychotic stranger threatens them with a knife? And he knows it too. He could sense it. I just know he could.
The very thought makes me ashamed of myself. I’m trembling as I lie down—at least I’m able to do this and take the tiniest bit of comfort in the situation. The bed is firm, and the blankets are clean, so at least a little something is going my way.
Is he going to kill me? I curl into a ball at the thought, like that’s going to do anything to help me. Why even bother asking myself that question anyway? Obviously, that’s what he’s going to do. Eventually, he’ll figure out I don’t know anything about his world or anybody in it. He’ll either kill me to shut me up, or he’ll do it because he’s frustrated with himself for making the mistake of thinking I’m anybody special. Why is it so hard for him to accept that I’m nobody?
Maybe that’s because I was stupid enough to give him Elena’s name. I should have just told him the truth, then he would have let me go. He would have realized that I’m not lying and free me. As soon as the idea forms in my mind, I push it away. Yeah, fucking right. I may not know about their world, but I know enough to realize that I’m totally fucked. I’ve seen his face, both of their faces—there’s no way he’s letting me free, not without death.
My stomach growls, reminding me of that disastrous breakfast and how I didn’t get to eat. Not that I didn’t want to. I was starving, and with how sparse my finances have been, the last thing I ate was a pack of Ramen noodles. My knee-jerk reaction was to ignore his offer. What’s the point of eating, anyway? I’m just going to die here.
Something in my gut says no, warming me inside like there’s a fire starting to flare to life. I’m not going to give up like this. Even if I die—I’m not going to be starving when I do. I reach over and take the water and the protein bar, unwrapping it and taking a few quick bites before uncapping the water. Maybe I’ll be able to plan a little better once I have food in me.
The lock clicks, and I almost spill water all over myself when my hand shakes. I didn’t think he would come back this soon. What’s going to happen now?
Then a dark head appears, but it isn’t Enzo. It’s the other one. Prince, I think his name was. Exactly what kind of name is that? I have no idea, but I’m not about to ask him how he got it.
“Hi,” he offers, his voice deep and rich. He hasn’t spoken much since I got here and never directly to me, at least not that I can remember. “How’s it going?”
For a second, all I can do is gape at him in surprise. Is that an actual question?
He must take my reaction for what it is, and he laughs softly. “Of course. That’s a stupid question.”
What’s his game? Why is he being nice to me? Is he the good cop, sent to warm me up, so I’ll let my guard down and reveal these supposed secrets I’m carrying around in my head? I have to be careful.
“Thank you for asking, anyway,” I offer, finishing off the rest of the protein bar in a hurry like subconsciously I’m afraid he’ll try to take it from me.
“Mind if I sit?” He gestures toward the bed, staying in place while he waits for an answer.
Now I know for sure something’s up. Why else would he be this polite? Last night, he was looking at me like he couldn’t stand the sight of me, and now he’s asking permission to sit near me. Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck or whatever the saying is?
“You’re sort of running things around here,” I point out as gently as I can. “You don’t need to ask for my permission.”
“There’s something to be said for having manners, and I’m nothing if not polite.” He takes a seat near the foot of the bed, careful to adjust his fancy suit pants before settling in.
“I’m sure this all seems confusing,” he muses, and I hear the sympathy in his voice. The question is, is it sincere?
“Very,” I agree, drawing my legs up tight against my body. I don’t want any part of me coming into accidental contact with any part of him. He knocked me out—I can’t forget that. In fact, the thought of it makes me lift a hand to the back of my head. It’s swollen and stings when I touch it.
And he’s always so polite? I wonder how he chooses to explain away this sort of thing.
He winces when he recognizes the gesture. “You’ll have to forgive me for that.”
“Do I, now?” I blurt out before thinking. Probably not a good idea to smart off to the man.
He takes it well enough, though, and chuckles softly. “It’s up to you. In our line of work, you can never be too careful.”
I’m still not sure how dangerous they thought I was going to be, unarmed and clueless, but I’m not going to argue.
“I really don’t know anything. I wish you guys would listen to me.”
“Like I said. We have to be careful.”
I had to try, didn’t I? I knew it wouldn’t be enough to get through to him. He and his pal have a very definite idea of who I am. So what if they’re completely wrong? There’s no convincing them.
He eyes the empty wrapper sitting beside me. “That can’t have been enough food. Do you want something else?”
My stomach growls like it heard him. Of course, a single protein bar isn’t enough. But I’m also too upset to care much about eating, no matter how my stomach feels about it.
