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When Luca and I told Elena about our guest in the basement, she instantly volunteered to be the one to interrogate her. And by interrogate, she meant torture. Blood, gore, violence, screams, and pain that would make a normal, or rather, an average woman squeamish. Not Elena. She’s like us. Gets an adrenaline rush. And she has no qualms with doing it to a woman.
As much as I want answers, I can’t send Elena down. Not yet. Maybe I’m delusional. Maybe I’m thinking with my cock, but I don’t want to hurt her. I want to believe that somehow she is innocent in all of this and won’t illicit a war when we release her.
Finally Elena appears at the end of the aisle. Thank fuck! I don’t have time to go hunting for her again. I give Luca’s shoulder a squeeze then step back to my assigned position. Behind me Luca’s brother Val chuckles. Elena was never going to run. She’s too infatuated with Luca. Their marriage may be written in a contract, but the love the two share isn’t something that you can put into words on paper. Hell, not even their marriage license will be adequate enough to encompass their feelings. If ever I believed in soul-mates it would be them.
Luca needed someone strong to stand at his side. As boss there will be countless threats to him and his family. A typical housewife wouldn’t be able to handle his late nights, the calls at three in the morning, or the unexplained blood on his clothes.
When Elena first arrived I feared she might actually be too much for Luca. Hell, she’s had more blood on her hands these few weeks than him. Then again, she has been invaluable in helping us extricate our rats. Blood spilling was necessary. So far we have exterminated seven. We are missing one. That’s where the woman in the basement comes in. From the intelligence we have gathered, she has had contact with a lot of bad man on our list. Damn near all. A few of which have ended up in our basement after one of our enforcers tracked them down and brought them in for questioning.
There is something we are missing. A piece to this puzzle that only she can unlock. If only she would talk. She’s stubborn. Or smart. Both I think. She doesn’t think she should trust us. If she is innocent she has nothing to fear. I’ve told her as much. I can see the distrust in her eyes. Someone has taught her well. Trust no one.
Part of me hopes she is being coerced into seeking these men out. If she’s being threatened I can help her. I just need her to fucking talk.
“Break her heart and I will destroy you.” Threatens Bosco.
Luca smiles in return. “Never. Her heart is safe with me.”
“And yours with me.” Replies Elena.
Gag.
Luca pulls Elena in close and plants a kiss far too inappropriate for a church on her lips. “Nope.” I say with a shake of my head. “Nope, none of that. You need to say I do first.” I love my best friend and am happy for him, but if we have to wait until he gets his fill of Elena we will be here all damn night. And I have shit to do. I need to see my woman.
My woman?
Nope.
The woman.
“Pussy blocker.” Quips Elena. Her brash words force me to laugh, as do many in the church pews. I watch and smile with pride as my friend marries the love of his life. Afterwards, me, and the rest of the guests, follow them to the reception back at the compound.
I do my best to keep my head on straight. To not think of the woman in the basement. I fail miserably. Even Val and Milan’s silly antics and forcing of the DJ to play the “Chicken Dance” in a room full of dark and dangerous mafia men doesn’t keep my attention for long.
The moment Luca and Elena make their escape to their private quarters, I head downstairs.
CHAPTER FIVE
Livianna
IT’S FREEZING INthe basement. When I woke up I was locked in a cell. My dress gone. It’s been two days. I think. Time is hard to judge with no clock or windows to use as reference. My guess is based on the meal delivery times.
Meals. I guess that’s what you call them. They are no more than a piece of toast and a bottle of water three times a day. I eat very little and drink even less. I’m fearful of what poisons await me in them. Seeing as they used a drug to knock me out and get me here, I can only guess that they have no qualms with using other chemicals either.
My captor has been down to visit me several times. Staying long hours. He hasn’t touched me. At least not that I am aware of. He hasn’t come into my cell since I woke up and when I did, I felt no pain or discomfort in or on my body. Not even between my legs which had been my first panic when I opened my eyes and realized I was in only my bra and undies on a thin, dirty mattress on the floor of a dark room with bars as three of the walls.
I was a virgin when I went to the bar that night, and I strongly feel I still am. I’m certain I would feel it if that was not the case.
Still. I cannot trust my captor or his men. I know not where I am. I want to ask. Many times I have opened my mouth to speak. I just can’t bring myself to do it. Any or all words out of his mouth could be a lie. I have no reason to trust him.
Should I trust him?
There is pain in his eyes each time I refuse to answer him. It disappears quickly. It makes me wonder how much patience for me he has left. Aside from the lack of clothes and blankets that make it nearly unbearably cold, the small portions of food, and the humiliating bucket in the corner that is meant as my toilet, the only other things they have done is keep me awake.
The whole time!
I get why they are doing it. It’s to break me. Lack of sleep is a torture my father has spoken of frequently. Lack of sleep messes with your mind. I’m holding strong so far. I think. I mean, at least outwardly. I haven’t opened my mouth to spew any secrets. Or any words at all. My cheeks have felt the pain. I have bitten them so much to keep my jaw from opening that I fear I may tear through my cheeks.
I’ve drifted off a few times, my body not giving me any choice. Each time I am awoke with either blasting music or cold water being splashed on me after a short time. My guess is those naps have been no longer than ten to twenty minutes. Currently I am curled in the far corner of my cell with the mattress propped up in front of me. I have no blanket to ward of the cold, or the creepy stares of the guards. I’ve had to make do with what I have. Which is my bucket-o-toilet and this mattress.
