AllFreeNovel
Share Us
That watchful gaze is the only reason I see the door knob turn in time. I yank the tie out from my mouth and hide my wrist behind my back, trying to look innocent as the door swings open.
De Rossi. The man who sat by my bedside as I snored into strange pillows; the man who stole me away from my bedroom last night. The mob boss prowls into the room like he owns it, which—duh. He definitely does. But then he strides over and stares like he ownsme.
“Thirsty?” he snaps. I stifle a flinch, but he definitely sees it, some unreadable emotion flickering behind his pale eyes.
“Y-yes.” I’m not faking this stammer for effect. This man makes me nervous as hell, though weirdly not as panicked as the other people who’ve been in and out. “Water, please.”
De Rossi gusts out a sigh, like I’msoinconvenient, and crosses to the jug and glasses on the side table. It’s been refreshed recently, ice cubes and slices of lemon bobbing on the clear water, and I steal a moment to examine my captor as he pours two glasses. He’s… not what I expected.
I’ve seen pictures of Santo De Rossi before, of course. He’s an international crime boss; there are plenty of photos of him floating around, although only at public events when heallowedthose photographs. And I always thought he dressed so fancy because of the events he attended, but here he is in his own home before noon, clad in rolled white shirtsleeves and an embroidered forest green waistcoat.
I press my lips together against the sudden urge to smile.
So weird. Must be some kind of captive’s hysteria.
When De Rossi turns with two full glasses, returning to my side, I take in his dark, wavy hair, pushed back from his forehead; his sharp cheekbones; his stubbled jaw and the shadows under his eyes. This man looks like he needs the world’s longest nap, but I have enough survival instincts not to mention that fact.
“Here.” He holds out one glass, but I wait, expectant. Just because the one earlier was fine…
De Rossi rolls his eyes, then takes a small mouthful. I watch the column of his throat shift, the water sliding down as he swallows, then accept the glass without argument.
God, I’m thirsty. I tip the glass back, emptying it in three desperate gulps. The mob boss watches my display, nose slightly wrinkled, then sips from his own glass and hands that over too.
My stomach lurches, sloshing with too much liquid, but I keep drinking greedily, even when the mob boss brings the jug over and sits at my bedside, pouring me glass after glass. By the time we’ve emptied it, I’m squirming on the bedspread, my bladder about to burst.
“Oh, look.” De Rossi’s voice is deep but soft. He tilts his head, watching my leg jiggle. “The consequences of your actions.”
I snort, but my cheeks are flaming hot. I donotwant to pee myself in front of this man. “Dude, it’s your mattress.”
“Dude?” De Rossi straightens, affronted. “I am not a dude.”
“Okay.” I yank on my wrist pointedly. “Can you not be one while you untie me?” Or hell, while he brings me a bowl. Not picky at this point.
A big part of me thinks he won’t do it. That he’ll let me sit here in my own filth or whatever, because this man is famously cruel and I am officially his enemy’s daughter. I’m at his mercy, with no one here to rein in his worst impulses, and if this were truly the Santo De Rossi of the newspapers, then I’d for sure be left to mess myself. I’d be kept in a cage in a dank basement, too.
Instead, my captor sighs and pushes to his feet, producing a small knife from somewhere among his tailored clothes.
I splutter, scrambling back on the bed as he leans over me. Broad shoulders block out the windows, and his shirt collar is open enough to see the edges of his collar bone. “You just carry that around?”
“Evidently. Stop squirming, Erin.”
I grit my teeth, chest heaving as he looms over me, the faint scent of his cologne filling my nose. He smellsfresh,like sea spray and cold wind and the crackle of lightning.
“There.” My wrist sags suddenly, dropping to my thigh. I roll the aching joint, wincing at the tight tie, and De Rossi plucks up my forearm before slicing away the fabric with a single motion.
My numb fingers flex. Pins and needles swarm through my hand, hot and prickly, and my captor holds up the half-chewed silk, sodden with my drool.
“This,” he says, shaking the tie in front of my nose like a bad puppy, “is disgusting.”
I take his offered hand without even thinking about it, stumbling down off the bed on shaky legs. “Shouldn’t have tied me up with it if you liked it. Anything you leave in arm’s reach, that’s fair game.”
“Noted.”
There’s a door in the corner of the suite, and he leads me there across the plush overlapping rugs before nudging it open. My hand is tucked tight in his, and I remind myself furiously that it’s to keep me from running away, not—not for any other reason.
“I’m going to let you go in there alone.”
My laugh is strangled, and I bounce off the bathroom doorway as I stumble through. The tiles are warm beneath my bare feet. “Very gracious of you.”
