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It feels as if I was—there’s no possible way.
I rub my face and kick away the bed covers. My mind struggles even with basic thought and my body’s no better with even the simplest movements. I lurch my way to the bathroom, realizing I’m alone in the bedroom.
I’m alone.
Salvatore’s side of the bed is untouched. Then I do a double take glancing at the closet.
His things are gone.
“What the…” I mutter, backing away from the closet only to overhear voices trailing from other parts of the villa.
Voices that are not Salvatore’s.
I rush from the room with lurching movements and his name on my lips.
“Jon!” I call out, skipping steps down the stairs.
Pepa greets me at the bottom with a gentle meow. She sits as if in wait for me, her eyes bright and curious.
What is Pepa doing here?!
Salvatore mentioned nothing about Salt and Pepa coming with us, and when we’d left yesterday, they were under the care of Stitches…
I pass by her without stopping. Uncharacteristic for me, but I’m too worked up to stop. I need to know what is going on.
Men’s voices. The kitchen. Who the hell—
In my desperation to find out what’s going on, my legs spread into longer strides. I make it down the hall with Pepa trotting in my wake, probably looking like a lunatic as I jog in a negligee only Salvatore ever sees me in.
Fabio and another guy who frequently works security named Lev sip coffee at the kitchen counter like they’re on their morning break. The two men, who resemble stereotypicalsoldatosas they’d be called, with their muscle-tight t-shirts, tattoos, gelled hair, and goatees, couldn’t seem more relaxed. By the looks of it, their morning couldn’t be better!
Yet here I am, confused as hell, wondering why I’ve somehow been mindfucked overnight.
My teeth grit and I move to rush over and confront them.
A hand clamps around my elbow and stops me. I’m turned around by a concerned Stitches with his wire-framed glasses low on his nose, his brow furrowed.
“Miss ADA,” he says. “What’s the matter? You came running downstairs? You’re… you’re not dressed.”
His ears redden and I tug the hem of my negligee further down my thighs.
“Follow me,” I say. He does as I ask, coming up the rear as I lead the way upstairs. “What the hell is going on, Stitches? I go to sleep last night in bed with Jon in our villa. Just the two of us. I wake up in the afternoon alone with Salvatore and his things gone, a crew of men here, and Salt and Pepa personally delivered to me.”
He peers out the window while I disappear into the closet and throw on the first sweater and pair of jeans I find. I emerge more adamant and pissed than ever.
“Well?”
A sigh leaves him as he drags his eyes from the window. “You’re gonna be staying here a while. It’s for your own good.”
“How long?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Where’s Salvatore?”
“I can’t tell you that either.”
“I want to speak to him.”
