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I pull up one of the audio files, the date tracing back to early this morning. When I press play, her father’s voice sounds over my speakers, her older brothers following behind it.
You’re telling me that after an entire week of sleepless nights, you don’t even have a fucking lead, Carmelo? We’re the most powerful family in the city and you don’t even have an idea of where they’re keeping her?
Graziano Saracino is angry. And I fucking love it.
No, Papa. The boys and I have tried everything. We have a guard on every square mile of this city, we even got mothers cousins from Jersey to come in and do some digging. He must have her in a fucking cellar in Area 51 at this point—
Carmelo sounds panicked, his voice rough and on edge as he scrambles over his words.
You need to try harder, boy. This is your little sister for Christ's sake. She doesn’t deserve this! God only knows what they... what they’ve done to... my baby girl.
He chokes up, his words are garbled and raspy as he tries to get them out. It is in this moment that I should be tap dancing with glee, but I don’t. I just close the file and sit back in my chair, twirling my glass tumbler around on my desk as the conversation replays in my head.
The first steps of my vengeance mission have finally come to fruition. Her family is restless, frantic and alarmed, just as I wanted. Yet right now, my anger is still bouncing around inside of me like a caged animal. I have to get out of this room, go outside, gun someone down. Anything but sit here in this house thatshe’sstill in.
I walk out of my office as I kill my glass of bourbon, throwing it against the wall as I rage through the house with turbulent emotions. Before I brought Lori here, my anger was cut and dry. I knew what I wanted, and I knew what it took to get there, however, since meeting her, it’s all gone to shit. I’m nothing but a hurricane of feelings that I do not want to give light. I do not want this frustration, this constant gnawing at my insides that she causes. All of this rage is her doing. It was so much simpler before she came along.
I pass by the staircase, the door to her room in clear view as I look up. I feel the rational part of me whisper to go outside, go for a drive and get the hell away from here, but my feet have other plans. It’s like this force is pulling me towards her room, towards her. Suddenly, I find myself outside of her bedroom door, my hand on the doorknob. I don’t move, I don’t breathe, I just stand there and feel every fucking annoying emotion that this woman has put inside of me.
Just as I am about to turn the knob and open the door, I hear a throat being cleared behind me. When I turn, I see my mother, arms still crossed, and a silver-brown eyebrow raised. I toss my head back and stare at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I ever got to this point.
With that, I turn on my heel and storm out of the house.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Lori
I’m being awoken by a soft touch to my face. When I open my eyes and stretch, I realize that my hands are free and that Mariella is standing above me.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she smiles down at me, a blurry angel looming over my sore and sleepy body.
I sit up, rubbing my free wrists as I stare at her.
“What time is it?” I ask, sleep still covering my voice as I speak.
“A little past seven in the morning. I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you the news,” she says, a twinge of excitement in her words.
“News?” I ask, wondering what could have her in such high spirits.
“Yes. Marco has agreed to move you to a new room, one a lot cozier than this one. You also will be free to do as you please in there, just keep in mind there will be a guard outside your door, so for the sake of your safety and my wellbeing, do not try anything, okay?” Her words spin around in my head as I try to grasp them.
“How?” I wonder, searching her blurry face as she pulls me up from the bed, a pile of new clothes resting on it.
“I put in a good word for you,” she chuckles, nudging me before she hands me the clothes.
“Go ahead and get dressed. I just grabbed you something to walk down in because the guards are out and I want you decent. You can shower and change again when you get to your new room. I spent the majority of the night stocking the bathroom and closet for you. The bed is made. Not to mention, I grabbed a fresh bundle of roses for you and put them on the nightstand. They smell lovely today.” It sounds like she’s rushing the words out, but I think it’s because they’re so shocking that I can’t really understand what she’s saying or believe if their true.
“Am I dreaming?” I wonder aloud, hating the bewilderment in my voice. I’ve really been held in captivity and deprived for so long that I can't even imagine a nice change of clothes and fresh linens.
“No, now go change. Your breakfast is in the new room and it’s getting cold!” She scolds, swatting my bottom as I yelp and rush to the bathroom.
I discard the large clothes and slide on the leggings and sweatshirt that she gave me, which thankfully, actually fit me this time. I fumble around on the sink in search of the hairbrush, grabbing it after a few tries before I run it through my knotted and tangled strands. Once I’m finished, I walk back into the bedroom.
“Great. I had our chef make you his famous frittata, you’ll love it. There’s some coffee too,” she says, my mouth dropping open.
“You have a chef?” Of course they do, they’re loaded.
“Yes, and he’ll be thoroughly upset if he finds out you wasted his meal. Come,” she grabs my hand and walks me out of the room and into the hallway.
