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“What sort of favor and how did Justine respond?” I ask calmly.
Jaxon remains quiet as he moves in and out of the traffic before he answers. “The boxes Damon had to sort through when he retrieved some of Olivia’s things weren’t because she had just moved in. She was moving out and into her mother’s house. At least between what Olivia said and the texts with Tori, that’s what Justine put together.”
I raise a brow, not seeing his point. “What’s the problem? Or even the favor? Does Olivia need her belongings moved?”
While not something any of my men normally do, it’s not the oddest thing to request.
He shakes his head. “Her mom wasn’t keeping up with the bills. Olivia needs some debts to be paid or she’s going to lose the house her mother left her.”
Again, I’m taken aback that Olivia hasn’t used her title as witness to get more things that she needs. She’s merely put up with my treatment. Well, along with having an attitude and not a proper amount of fear for the situation she’s in.
She could have bargained: her compliance for her mother’s home.
Yet, it’s almost as if so much shit has been thrown at her recently that she doesn’t care if she lives or dies.
The thought tastes sour to me.
“Justine told me she’s going to pay all the bills for Olivia, even though Olivia says she has money to make some of the payments,” Jaxon adds.
My stare moves out the window, and I do something I shouldn’t.
“No,” I say. “I’ll take care of it.”
He fights a grin. “I already told her to hold off until I spoke with you.”
“This isn’t to be shared with Olivia,” I demand gruffly. I can’t be soft with her. She can’t be a weakness in my world.
Still, I know that I need to help her. The reason for it is beyond me. I rarely help anyone who isn’t living under the same roof as me, but even as I stare at the passing traffic, I know Olivia Danes isn’t just anyone.
Even more, she’s a woman I shouldn’t claim. Yet…there’s a part of me already wondering what she’ll think about me taking care of her after what she’s already witnessed.
Will she still think of me as a monster, or will she see that I only do what I do to protect what I care most about?
12
OLIVIA
Nine long days have passed since I found myself trapped in this suffocating place. Cut off from the outside world, confined within Luca’s home. There have been moments when I’ve yearned to return to the underground cell, but I’ve managed to restrain myself each time.
I need my freedom back. Not the feigned one I have by being in Luca’s room. I want my life outside of this compound back, and I’m not going to get that by being sequestered in the darkness.
The last seven days since exiting the underground cage have blurred together, each one an eerie reflection of the other. I wake up alone in Luca’s bed, go through the motions of showering, dressing, and waiting for Justine. She brings me breakfast and any updates she can gather, along with continued requests for ways to placate Tori who continues to reach out daily, wondering where the hell I’ve disappeared to. As much as I wish to find a way to tell her the truth, this isn’t something I want my best friend wrapped up in.
In the hours I’m alone in the apartment, I fill them by drawing, reading, or rewatching episodes ofFriendsuntil the next meal arrives.
It’s not always Justine who visits any more. Sometimes it’s Jaxon, and a few times it’s been Markus, the most elusive member of Luca’s group that I’ve met. He doesn’t speak when he enters. Hell, he doesn’t even look at me. Just sets the tray of food on the table and exits as quietly as he came.
Evenings prove to be the most challenging. During the day, when Luca isn’t taking up all the space in his room with his presence, I can momentarily forget how much my body wants the man I should find repulsive, but at night…
My skin yearns for his touch. My very being pulses in sync with his breath as we sleep side by side, always separated by the fortress of pillows I diligently build each night. We never touch, but the magnetic force between us feels palpable.
He never returns before nine, and we’re in bed by ten. Our short hour together is typically spent in silence. Most questions I ask he refuses to answer, and no matter if I’m polite or rude, he remains indifferent…until I find his eyes on me.
When he’s staring, that’s when I feel weakest. As if this man could demand anything of me and my resistance to him would be futile.
The darkness within him has grown on me, no matter how much I try to fight it. I can hardly breathe when he’s near, and sleeping without touching him or even myself becomes harder every passing night. Hell, I’ve even started stashing pillows under the bed so there aren’t as many to place between us.
Yes, I’m well aware of my own madness, lusting after my captor. But damn it, he’s too fucking enigmatic to resist.
