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I can see his mouth move, twitching almost. As if it’s trying to fight a smile.
“Curious about me, Lori?” He rasps, his feet clicking against the floor as he adjusts his massive body to sit next to me on the bed.
“My name is Marco De Vico, head boss of the De Vico family. Does that ring any bells for you?” he asks.
When I shake my head, a harsh sound slips from his throat. It is angry and scary, much like the rest of him.
“Let me refresh your memory, princess. On this day, ten years ago, your father decided to take the life of my own. Leone De Vico was the fourth boss of this family, and we have allowedyour family rule this city for years. Until that fateful day. Until your father shot my father betweenthe eyes, leaving him to bleed out on the floor of my office. That was the day I took over as head of this family. That was the day I started starving for vengeance,” he says coldly, no ounce of emotion in his words at all.
“You are here because your family deserves to pay, to suffer,” he hisses the last word, the sound slipping through my bloodstream and chilling me from head to toe.
When I speak, my voice shakes.
“If you want them to pay, why am I still alive?” I whisper, his body shifting on the bed at my words.
He towers over me, grabbing my face roughly with his large hands, his eyes glued to mine. From this closeness, I can tell his eyes are brown, maybe even black. Regardless, they are dark and filled with a coldness that leaves me trembling in his grasp.
“Because,Lori, the greatest part of suffering is having that slim bit of hope to hang onto. Hope for better, hope for the pain to end,” he snaps, looming over me like a cold shadow.
“I want them to have hope. I want them to think that they will find you—alive. I want them to think that they can still save you—the precious little secret that they’ve tried to keep hidden.” He pauses, his hands pressing tighter against my face, smushing my cheeks together.
“And when they do, when they finally find you, I want all that hope to be sucked out from under them when they cling onto your lifeless, bloody body. Because as soon as they come to find you, Iwillkill you,” he says, his voice empty like a hollow shell.
It is in this moment that I know I should cry. I should scream and weep and fight back, but I don’t. Because a part of me knows that’s what Marco wants. He wants a fight, and I will not be the one to give it to him. He may have taken me from my perfect, quiet life, but I will not give him the pleasure of witnessing my fear.
When I don’t respond, he moves one hand away from my face, bringing it down the length of my torso before it slips underneath my blouse; the rough skin of his palm scratching my belly before it rises to cup my breast. His thumb circles around my nipple and it rises to attention, poking through the lace of my bra as a low roar escapes his lips.
“For a woman that should be terrified, you are very responsive. Especially when I just vowed to kill you,” he chuckles darkly, my breath hitching in my throat as that fluttering in the pit of my stomach quickens, mimicking the flapping of a butterfly’s wings.
This man is a monster and even though I am terrified, I can’t help my body’s response—its draw to him. No one has ever touched me in anger, or desire for that matter. No one has ever wanted to explore me, so even if I’m meant to die, perhaps I’ll experience some pleasure before the pain.
His thumb circles my nipple faster, applying the slightest amount of pressure as my body trembles in response, though I'm not sure if it's fear or desire. When he bends down and sucks my breast through the fabric of my clothing, my womb quakes, the feeling of an impending climax threatening me as my head spins.
When he senses this,my confusedpleasure, he rears back, ripping his hand and mouth from me as he stands up next to the bed.
“If you listen to me, this will run smoothly. Though I will say this, if you fight me in any way, if you so much as think of disobeying me, this new situation of yours will only worsen,” he says, fixing the lapels of his jacket before he strides out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving me in an overwhelming silence.
It is then that I give into my fear and cry.
CHAPTERFOUR
Lori
It’s been four days since he locked me in this room. Since then, all I’ve done is sit in my loneliness, crying on and off—always ensuring to hide my tears when Marco comes. He visits once a day, bringing me water and bland soup before he unties me and pushes me down on the toilet to pee. Each time, hedoesn't look away, and after the second day, I stopped asking. He doesn't give a damn about me, and I'm starting to believe that this man is devoid of humanity. He removedmy underwear the first time he took me to the bathroom and hasn't put itback on since. And the only time he touches me iswhen he fiddles with the rope around my wrists.
Today is day four and I’m almost certain that I’m going insane. My neck hurts from turning away from the windows, the bright light burning my eyes. I've had to keep them closed, especially since I asked him to draw the blinds yesterday and all Igot was a dark chuckle and a shake of his head.
I’m awakening from a troubled sleep when the door opens and Marco steps in, my eyes still closed due to the light. I know it’s him because of his smell—his rich, expensive scent that has my hormones spiking even though I want to kill him. Plus, no one else has come in this room besides him.
He walks to the bed and pauses. I can feel his gaze burning into my skin as I squeeze my eyes even tighter, not opening them for him in the slightest. Apparently, this amuses him because he laughs when he starts untying me.
“Not happy to see me today, princess?” he asks, but I don’t respond.
I’ve been wavering between a myriad of emotions and today, I feel angry and defiant.
He yanks me from the bed, slamming me against his chest as his rough fingers grasp my chin and force my head up to look at him, my eyes opening only to narrow.
“Be a good girl and answer,” he growls.
