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What the fuck am I going to do with Olivia Danes?
4
OLIVIA
The walls of the cell close in on me, their cold touch seeping into my bones. I’m still reeling from my own audacity, the way I defied Luca and landed myself in this miserable cage. Fear, raw and pulsing, courses through my veins, making me someone I’m not. Sure, I can banter with the best of them, but being defiant to someone who likely wouldn’t blink twice at murdering me? Not something I expected of myself.
With Luca gone, and me alone in the darkness of this cage, all that remains is a shell of uncertainty and vulnerability.
I press my hands against the metal door, feeling the chill against my palms. How did I end up here? How did I get entangled with a man like Luca Monroe when just hours ago I was standing on a stage for charity?
The minutes tick by, and even though the room is nearly black inside, I stay close to the concrete walls, sliding my palm over its rough edges until my boots kick the blanket that Luca mentioned.
Do I deserve so much fucking better than a single scrap of fabric? Absolutely. But the longer I’m in here, the more adrenaline that leaves me, the colder I get, and it’s time to give in to my circumstances.
I won’t win against Luca. Not with defiance. He made that clear.
There had been a moment in the SUV when I’d thought he was going to devour every inch of my body, and hell, if that hadn’t made my own pulse increase with the thrill that thought elicited. A stupidity on my part that I don’t understand and hope to keep at bay.
Yet, minutes later, he threw me into this damn cage like an animal.
The wool from the blanket itches my hands and neck, and though I can’t see my breath, I’m certain it’s coming out in white puffs from the low temperature of the room.
I blink several times in hopes that I’ll be able to see something, but the darkness doesn’t change. Realizing I’m not going anywhere soon, I press my back against the wall, thankful as fuck that I’d changed back into my black boots, jeans, and my favorite Multnomah Falls sweatshirt.
I pull the hood up and lean my head into the corner before closing my eyes. My chest burns from the gamut of emotions, but I force my mind to settle, counting back from one-hundred and starting over until the horror of my predicament dissipates and weariness pulls me under.
Only it doesn’t last.
What feels like seconds later, a loud bang sounds from the hallway, and I’m back on my feet before I can take a full breath.
The sound of footsteps echoes through the corridor outside the cell, and my heart jumps into my throat. Is ithim? Is he coming back? The anticipation tightens my chest, and my hands shake, waiting for the inevitable.
Sure enough, the door swings open, and there he stands, like a specter of darkness against the flickering light above his head. Luca’s piercing cognac eyes lock onto me, his gaze a storm of intensity. A mixture of annoyance and curiosity dances across his features, and I can’t help but feel exposed under his scrutiny.
“Have you had enough time to reflect on your actions?” he asks, his voice steady and commanding, while also oddly soothing to my frayed nerves.
I’m tempted to tell him to fuck off. No clue why this is my innate reaction around a murderer, and it takes solid effort to rein in the temper I don’t normally have. “Considering you left me in the dark, I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I’m sure it’s been long enough.”
So, my temper has been quelled, but clearly not the snark. Hopefully I can make this work, but I’m starting to see that I must have missed “death wish” on my bingo card for the month.
He stands so still, he might as well be a statue. Hell, I’m not even sure he’s breathing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t seehim. The way the shadows fall beneath the sharp lines of his jaw, emphasizing the strong angles of his face. As if darkness itself has claimed him, a manifestation of his brooding nature.
I also notice the changes in his appearance since our last encounter. He’s discarded his tie, vest, and suit coat, no longer confined by the trappings of formality. Instead, he stands before me in black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing the taut muscles of his forearms.
Involuntarily, I lick my lips and take in a deep breath.
Fuck, I’m in so much trouble—and such an idiot.
The silence is palpable, broken only by the distant hum of electricity running through the hidden wires of this mysterious place. It’s almost as if I can feel their vibrations, a subtle reminder of the unseen dangers lurking in the corners. The air is heavy with anticipation, charged with an energy I can’t quite comprehend. Or more likely, don’t want to.
His heavy stare is still locked on me, and my body shivers. I want to blame it on the coldness still pressing in around me, but I know that’s a lie.
“Oh, Raven,” he titters. “I was wrong about you.”
“My name is Olivia,” I correct, but my voice isn’t as strong as it was moments before.
The brief smirk that lifts from his lips tells me he’s fully aware of what my name is and probably more than I’m okay with him knowing about me.
