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“Let me go, and I’ll make your dream come true,” I shout at him. “You’ll never see me in New York again.”
“Not before I get what I want,” he snarls. “You’re still close to Don Sorvino, and he is willing to negotiate with me for your safe return. You’re not fucking going anywhere, so get used to it.”
I want to slap him, but I control myself. Instead, I turn my back to him and cross my arms.
“Get ready for dinner.” It’s a command, not a request. “I expect you down within twenty minutes or else.”
I hear the door swing open with a loud creak and then slam shut, rattling the window. I clench my fists and try to think straight. I need to come up with a better plan because fighting with him isn’t resolving anything. It’s just making things worse.
If he gets sick of my bullshit, he could start beating and torturing me. Alessandro always told me never to underestimate what a person will do for their family.
I had heard about Arianna, how they had removed her fingernails before Carmine had saved her. I don’t want that to be my situation. I picture Alessandro receiving a package with my fingernails or, worse, my fingers. I don’t want to be maimed, so I need another plan.
I go to shower so I can freshen up, and as I wash up, I wonder about Miguel. He’s so desperately passionate about hating me…could that mean he still has feelings for me? If he does, could I use that to my advantage? I mean, if I could convince him that I’ve started to have feelings for him again too, maybe I could seduce my way into lax security or an excursion out of the estate, then I can escape.
I don’t know if it will work. It might entail sleeping with my captor, and I know that won't be easy. I will do what I must, especially to get back to my child, but I know it will stir old feelings I might not want back.
I must take the risk, though.
If there is even the slightest chance I can make it out of this, I have to try—before Miguel starts sending me back in pieces.
I dress and do myself up, I take care this time but keep in mind I only have twenty minutes in total, and I’ve used at least ten for showering.
I put on the heels he’s provided and grimace at his grotesque idea of hospitality, is it even that?
I open the door to find Jarred standing there instead of Lyle.
“Where’s Lyle? Are you out of trouble?” I ask.
Jarred keeps quiet, and I know he’s still pissed that I gave him the slip. I bow my head. “I’m sorry I got you into trouble. We’d better get to dinner.”
I walk past him and sense rather than hear him behind me. I sweep into the dining room, and as Miguel looks up, I give him a small smile.
“Good evening, Don Rossi,” I said submissively.
Miguel snorts and shakes his head, returning to the plate of food in front of him.
A plate is placed in front of me, and I quietly say, “Thank you.”
Miguel casts a glance in my direction with narrowed eyes. I wait until he starts to eat before I tuck into my food. I chew on my food quietly, and when a few moments pass in silence, I decide to break it.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve behaved,” I say quietly. “I am grateful for your hospitality and the kindness you’ve shown me.”
I don’t know if he can tell if I’m sincere or not, but I give it my all.
“Perhaps we can start over?”
“From when,” he asks, and his voice is dripping with sarcasm. “From when I kidnapped you or from college?”
“Miguel…”
“Don Rossi to you,” he snarls.
“Don Rossi,” I concede, “please, I really thought about how I’ve been behaving, and I’m sorry I’ve been rude to you in your own home. I promise to be absolutely golden from now on.” I meet his green eyes, and he stares me down until I look down at my food.
We continue to eat in tense silence, and every time I glance up, he’s looking at me—not looking, leering. Goose flesh erupts on my skin, and I shiver slightly.
“Are you cold?” he asks, his voice is low, and to me, it sounds dangerous.
