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Scanning the title of the books along the right wall, I hear Renzo walking towards the door. Leaving the books behind, I jog to catch up with him.
“You can stay,” he says when he hears me jogging to catch up with him.
He stops, turning to face me and I almost crash into him. Looking up, I am so mesmerized with the golden flakes of his hazel eyes that I barely comprehend what he says next.
“Make yourself at home. My family is aware that you are here. I will be leaving for work until much later tonight,” he stares into my eyes as though he is trying to read my mind, “Do not let me hear that you were a nuisance when I return.”
Just this once, I am going to do as I am told, at least in regards to staying in the library. Heading back inside, my fingers dance across the various book spines as I pull a few to take back to my room.Pride and Prejudice. The Bridges of Madison County. The Princess Bride.This room is full of lots of love stories for a ruthless crime family.
Juggling the books in one hand, I pull the doors shut to the library before heading back upstairs to my…
Captive’s Suite?
I can’t exactly call it a prison. The bedroom and attached bath are nearly the size of the apartment that I grew up in. The mattress is soft and feels like what I would imagine floating on a cloud would be like. The linens on the bed feel luxurious. I actually am looking forward to curling up on the bed to read.
Days of weird civility pass as I co-exist in this house with Renzo. He forces me to join him for breakfast and dinner, ensuring that I am eating. Conversations are minimal, but amicable – like neighbors making small talk. Outside of meals, he stays away from me. It is almost as though he is making an effort not to be around me.
Being left alone, I spend most of my days wandering this massive house and perusing the titles in the library. At the rate I am going, I will have read the whole library by the end of the month.
Returning to my room from yet another trip down to the library for new books, I hear a noise behind me. Turning around, the door to Renzo’s room is open and he is standing with his back to me. Every inch of him previously covered in stuffy dress shirts is decorated with tattoos. A massive, realistic looking lion roars across the rippled muscles of his shoulders and back. The detail of the tattoos covering his body is astounding. I have never seen a man built like him before – at least not in person.
An involuntary gasp comes from my mouth, causing him to turn around. The front of him covered in more black ink, accentuating the ripples of his abs and those muscles on his hips that point directly to his crotch.
The corner of his mouth turns up at the sight of me.
Shit! He knows I was gawking at him.
Why the fuck am I staring at the guy who is holding me captive against my will? The man who actually believes he owns me.
Because he’s fucking hot, Ava. That’s why.
Renzo quickly crosses the distance to the door. Watching him as his eyes scan over my body, for once in my life I am at a loss for words.
“We don’t spy on people in this house,” his words angry as the door slams shut in my face causing me to startle and drop the books from my hand.
Picking up the books, I struggle to hold them as I fidget with the doorknob to my room. Finally getting it to turn, I hastily enter the room, shutting the door behind me before flopping on the bed.
I read through the first chapter ofThe Godfather, rereading several paragraphs because I am unable to concentrate. I feel the urge to apologize. Well, not apologize, but tell him that I was not spying.
Why the fuck do I even care?
Standing with my hand on the doorknob for a moment, I try to figure out what it is that I am going to say to him. Opening my door, I am surprised to find that his door is open again. Crossing the hallway, I stop at his doorway to knock.
When there is no answer, I call out, “Renzo?”
Still no answer, I step through the threshold into his room.
You shouldn’t be in here.
He has told me numerous times to make myself at home, and that is what I am doing.
No, you’re snooping – spying. The thing he literally just yelled about.
Looking around at his room, it is impeccably tidy. Everything has a place and is in order. Peering into the closet, everything is neatly hung or folded, and arranged by both clothing type and color. Opening the drawers to the dresser, even his boxer briefs are neatly rolled and arranged by color.
Control freak, much?
Unable to control myself, my hands are in the drawer tossing things around. When finished, it looks like they were all dumped in the drawer. Smugly content with myself, I push the drawer shut and head back into the bedroom. My eyes are drawn to a large armoire to the left of the bed.
