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Begrudgingly, I must admit that the mattress Luca left for me is like sleeping on a cloud. Even without the box spring and frame beneath its soft surface, I was lulled to sleep within minutes after being left alone.
As I wake, I assume it’s the following morning, but given darkness still engulfs my surroundings, it’s not possible to even guess at the time. The cell’s concrete walls and floors still emanate a cold chill, but my current predicament outweighs any discomfort I feel.
I desperately need to pee. Like really fucking badly.
Luca mentioned there was a bucket in here, but I haven’t located it yet. I don’t want to. The idea of relieving myself in a tin can feels degrading on so many levels. Sure, I’ve peed in the woods before, but this is inhumane.
After futilely rocking back and forth on the mattress for several agonizing minutes, I mutter under my breath, “Fuck it.”
Summoning my resolve, I rise to my feet and feel along the wall, using it as a guide to navigate my cell. With each step, I cautiously sweep my foot, hoping to find the elusive bucket in the darkness.
Soon enough, my boot collides with metal, eliciting a cringe from myself. “Am I really doing this?” I question, and the confirmation swiftly echoes back from my desperate bladder.
I position the bucket between my legs, using my hands to blindly feel around the top, making sure there isn’t anything I have to look out for. Nobody needs something stabbing them in the ass first thing in the morning.
Satisfied that I’m in the clear, I unbutton my jeans and assume a squatting position. Before I can even confirm that the bucket is in place, my body begins relieving itself. Seems my impatient bladder couldn’t wait a second more.
No longer embarrassed to be using the bucket, I finish my business and stand up. My pants are still at my ankles when I hear a key enter the lock of my cell door, causing panic to course through me.
Fuck. How did I miss the sound of Luca’s heavy footsteps?
In my frantic attempt to cover myself, my lowered jeans cause me to trip, and I crash onto the unforgiving concrete, my knees taking the brunt of the impact.
On the bright side, I manage to avoid landing on the bucket filled with my urine. However, any fleeting sense of triumph quickly dissipates as the cell door swings open, exposing my bare ass to whoever is on the other side.
“Well, hello there,” a woman’s voice chimes in with a chuckle. “Jaxon told me you were feisty, but I didn’t expect this kind of greeting.”
Mother fuck fuck.
I scramble to sit upright, my face burning with embarrassment as I hastily pull up my jeans and turn to face the woman who has invaded my private humiliation.
With a mix of curiosity and amusement, she steps further into the cell, revealing herself in the dim light from the hallway. Her eyes sparkle mischievously, and a playful smile dances over her lips. I can’t deny that there’s an air of confidence about her, as if she’s completely at ease in this unconventional situation.
“Sorry about that,” I stammer, feeling my cheeks flush even hotter. “I didn’t expect anyone to come in.”
“You have nothing to worry about with me,” she replies, her voice carrying a sincere and calming tone that begins to ease my racing heart. “I’m Justine and you’re Olivia, yeah?”
I nod, my relief mingled with confusion, preventing any coherent words from escaping my lips. My eyes involuntarily fixate on the plate she holds in her hands. I let the tantalizing aroma of the sandwich, the glistening bottle of water, and the sight of freshly cut pineapple overwhelm my senses for the moment.
“Jaxon—that’s my boyfriend—sent me down here to bring you food,” she says, extending the plate to me. “I know it’s early, but I’m not much of a cook, and I thought you might appreciate a real sandwich instead of toast.”
Her words strike a chord. She’s right. The previous night, thanks to my nerves before the auction, I couldn’t bring myself to eat dinner. My stomach growls, responding to the mere sight of the food. With one hand holding the plate, I use the other to reach for the sandwich, not even bothering to check its contents before devouring the sustenance.
As I take the first bite, soft, fresh bread melts in my mouth, sending waves of satisfaction through me. I can’t help but moan in delight. “Good God, that’s delicious.”
Justine chuckles, leaning casually against the doorway. “I’m glad,” she says, her amusement evident. Then, her gaze sweeps around the cell. “This is the first time I’ve actually looked inside one of these since moving in.”
I gape at her, a mixture of astonishment and curiosity taking hold of me. “You livehere?”
She nods with a sense of pride. “This is the kind of family that you’re either all in with or not at all,” she admits, her voice tinged with a touch of something I don’t comprehend.
“Are you here by force?” I ask, even though she looks happy. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t been coerced.
Her head rears back. “God no.” Then, she grins. “Well, maybe for the first ten minutes, but then I realized being with this mafia is safer than being on my own. At least, it was when I first arrived. Still, I love it here now. A little lonely at times, but I wouldn’t change a thing. At least not yet.”
As I chew my third bite, my mind attempts to process the information she’s just shared, but the overload of emotions has me focusing on Justine’s appearance instead of her words.
She’s striking with dark, fiery red hair flowing past her shoulders and bright hazel eyes that distract me from my current reality. She’s tall, probably several inches in height on me, and dressed casually in jeans, black, strappy sandals, and green tank top. There’s an undeniable aura of self-assurance around her that both intrigues and intimidates me.
