AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“There are supplies to shower and brush your teeth. Take as long as you need, but donotabuse this show of trust, Erin. I am not in the mood to deal with you.”
Deal with me? Like… punish me? Kill me? I bite my lip against a full-body shiver, and paste a bright smile on my face as the door swings closed. “Gotcha. No funny business.”
The last thing I see before I’m left alone is a pair of scowling icy blue eyes.
Three
Erin
Iwait until nightfall—then a few hours longer. I wait until the constant sounds of activity in this mansion fade away, replaced by sleepy silence.
There will still be people awake. Staff and security and whatever. I’m not a complete dumbass, but my chances of escape are a thousand percent better in the dead of night. Guaranteed.
Weird that De Rossi didn’t tie me to the bed frame again. I fully expected to come out of the bathroom in a cloud of minty steam and find him waiting, harsh and impatient, ready to drag me back to my assigned spot and lash me there. A tiny, ridiculous part of me was looking forward to it.
Instead, I came out of the bathroom, bundled in a fluffy robe, to find a fresh pair of silk pajamas on the suite’s coffee table—and a whole load of new freedom. An empty room, and nothing but fancy furniture and my own company.
And hours and hours to plan.
The door’s locked. Obviously. But that’s not the only way out of this room, is it? I hold my breath as I peel the sheets off the bed, ears straining for the sound of footsteps coming nearer. There’s nothing but quiet and the rustle of fine cotton. A pipe gurgles in the wall.
This is how people always escape in stories. Knotting their bed sheets together and climbing out of a window. Has Santo De Rossi never seen a movie?
The night air is brutally cold as I ease the balcony door open, gusting inside and chilling me through the thin layer of my pajamas. They’re the same style as my own pair, a silk shirt and little shorts, but they’re dark blue instead of cream.
They fit me perfectly, too. Better not wonder too much about that.
“Easy,” I whisper to myself as the balcony door creaks, swinging open on its hinges. I pause again, but there are no approaching footsteps.
If anything’s gonna give me away, it’s my damn stomach, growling louder than a pack of wolves as I gather up my sheets and tiptoe outside. A layer of snow covers the balcony, freezing my bare toes, and I try to work quickly, tying my makeshift rope to the rail with clumsy fingers.
How far down is the ground?
I lean out to check, then regret my life choices when my head goes woozy. Far. Pretty far. But there’s a balcony on the floor beneath mine, so maybe I can hopscotch down somehow, or get back into the mansion and sneak away from there…
I don’t know, okay? But I have to try.
“Spider Erin, Spider Erin…”
Singing to myself softly as I swing myself over the rail, there’s a real chance that I’ve gone mad. That whatever drug they gave me, or the experience of being held captive by a sexy, mean mobster with zero food all day, has cracked something in my mind. Why else am I wishing I could say goodbye?
The rail is so cold the metal hums, and my grip on the sheets is clumsy. By the time I’m a few feet down, arms wobbling and snowflakes churning all around, I can’t freaking breathe, I’m so scared.
Bad idea. Bad idea. Really, really bad idea. Daring escapes down makeshift ropes are for girls who did well in gym, not reedy bookworms who haven’t eaten all day.
The wind buffets me until I shriek, snowflakes gusting up my pajamas and melting on my bare skin, and as I slide in jerky spurts down to the balcony below, I’m praying under my breath for a miracle, for mercy, for a second chance at life—
My toes meet the snowy balcony, and I sag with relief… then glance up and turn to stone.
Santo De Rossi stands at the glass door, arms folded over his chest and jaw clenched. How much of that did he see? Did it look as lame as it felt?
“Erin.” He says my name, his mouth forming the word even though no sound comes through the glass. He’s pale with fury, every line of his body taut, and dread is a hard knot in my belly.
Maybe I could stay out here. Dying in the snow is supposedly a peaceful death, right? Don’t people go all warm and happy right before it’s over?
The balcony door wrenches open, and his single command cracks like a whip. “Get in.”
I stumble past the mob boss on frozen feet.
