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I switch back to the camera in the room, but I don’t see my little mouse kicking or screaming the door down. No, she stands there, staring at it for a moment, before she turns and heads right back up the stairs and into the library, her expression carefully blank. I narrow my eyes, because that’s not normal behavior for a captive. Shouldn’t she be trying to figure out another way out?
I follow her on the other cameras, watching as she goes back into the library and right back to perusing the shelves. What the hell is she looking for? I watch her for another few minutes, before I finally tell myself she’s not going anywhere and to forget about her for now. I’ll blow off some steam, clear my head, and then be ready to handle her.
I switch to the camera outside the hidden door, see no one in the halls, and then I block the feed for the thirty seconds it takes me to open the door and walk out into the main hall, and make sure it closes shut behind me. This one is made directly into the wall, behind a full length painting of a castle that my mother had commissioned on a trip to Europe one summer when I was ten. It’s ghastly, but I suppose it has its uses.
I walk down into the gym, and the air in the room immediately changes as my men see me. There are three of them in the ring, and two more lifting weights. I see Davide in the ring, and Tommaso lifting weights. I never took time to learn the other’s names. Davide and Tommaso nod at me, while the others give me wary looks. Good, they should fear me.
I walk straight to the ring and climb inside. “After some sparring, Boss?” Davide asks, straightening.
I look at the smallest of the two men beside him and point. “You, get ready.” Then I turn around and head to my corner, cracking my neck. We don’t do mouth guards or gloves. I want them to feel the pain I’ll give, and the pain I’ll take with each punch.
When I turn, he’s the only man in the ring. Davide and the other man are hanging on the ropes on the edge. I motioned for the man to come forward, and I see him gulp as he does. I nearly sneer and tell him to leave, because I don’t want a fucking pussy-assed fight, but perhaps a lesson is needed.
I don’t go easy on him, pounding into him, making him groan and curl in on himself as I beat him down. But I have to give him some props that he doesn’t tap out. He takes it, until I land a punch to his temple, sending him to the floor, knocked out cold. I motion for Davide to drag him out, and he quickly does so. The other man climbs in, clearly understanding I’m not done.
I repeat the sparring session with him, and one other man who is either brave or stupid enough to volunteer. I pour every ounce of frustration into the fight, feeling the rush of adrenaline as I land hit after hit. I love a good fight. I was born for it. I’ve trained ever since I could walk, and I’ve never let myself slack. But it’s also had the effect of me chasing that high every time I fight. That desire to know I’ve won, and feel the blood dripping from my hands.
By the time he falls to the ground, out cold, nose broken, and eye already swelling shut, I manage to step back enough to know I’m done. Any more, and my hands won’t be much use for a while. “Have the doc see to him,” I order Davide, who nods and drags the unconscious man out, while I climb out of the ring. My muscles are tired, and my mind is finally, blessedly clear.
“You want the doc to see to your hands, Boss?” Davide asks with a jerk of his chin toward my swelling and blood covered hands.
“No,” I say dismissively as I head out of the gym. I don’t bother with the secret hallway considering my men are now milling around the halls. Though I’m not surprised when Dante falls into step with me as I head toward my wing, neither of us speaking.
When we reach my bedroom, Dante follows me in when I unlock the door, making me give him a scowl. “Shouldn’t you be in bed with my insolent housekeeper?”
He gives me a smirk and replies, “I will be as soon as I see to your hands. Don’t need you bleeding on the sheets and then hearing about it tomorrow.”
“Why the hell are you sleeping with her?” I demand, heading for the bathroom. “If you’re that desperate to get your dick wet, I’m sure we can find you someone who isn’t liable to bite it off if you piss her off.”
“I have my own ways of dealing with her if I piss her off,” he replies, and I don’t miss the glint in his eyes when I glance back at him.
“Don’t come crying to me if she tries to kill you. And if she succeeds, just know I’m going to give her a raise because then I won’t have to deal with your annoying ass.”
“You make me feel so warm and fuzzy with your words, Boss,” he drawls silkily.
“Fuck off,” I huff as I grab the First Aid Kit from under the sink.
“I think that’s my line to you,” Dante replies easily, grabbing the kit and opening it. “And before you go and see our guest, you might want to hide these or you’ll scare her.”
“That’s the point,” I remind him sternly. “She’s not a guest, she’s a prisoner. And seeing how dangerous I am will keep her in line.” He gives me a pitying look but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he quickly and efficiently sees to my hands, wrapping them, then sets the key to her room on the counter, and leaves without a word.
I grit my teeth as I head for the bathtub. As soon as I sink into the warm water, I immediately grab my phone and pull up the screen to watch her. My eyes never leaving it until my body registers that the water has gone ice cold. As I climb out and dry off, I realize my plan to keep from watching her is long fucked.
My obsession with this woman isn’t going away. I just sat and watched her scouring through books for over an hour. All because I can’t seem to get her face out of my mind. So I do the one thing that I told myself I wouldn’t do.
I dress, grab the key from the bathroom, and head for my closet. It’s time for me to pay my little mouse a visit, and time for me to see if I can get some answers. I want her name. Unfortunately for her, it doesn’t matter what my plans are, because she will never be free of me.
CHAPTER8
Gia
My eyes arebleary as I tell myself I need to stop. I have looked through almost three quarters of the books in this space, and nothing tells me of a possible way to get out of here. It’s a fool’s dream, I know, but at this point, it’s clear they’re not going to let me leave of my own free will. Not that I really expected anything else. After all, when I tried earlier, the giant man just picked me up and set me back in, slamming the door in my face, and locking it from the outside.
Neither he nor the woman who came in with the food said a word to me. Well, not that I gave them the chance. I long ago learned how to sneak around unseen, and even though I hoped to get past them, I wasn’t quick enough. My damn ribs and stomach are to blame for that. I’m moving a little too stiffly to be agile on my feet. But the way he treated me also makes me think that he’s not the man in charge. If he was, wouldn’t he have spoken to me?
Still, there’s something that’s familiar about him that I can’t place. Like I’ve seen him before. I’ll have to think on it. It’s not like I don’t have the time after all.
When I get back downstairs, I look at the food on the tray that’s long gone cold now. Still, even cold it looks delicious. There’s a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, with a piece of garlic bread that looks homemade, and a glass of red wine. An interesting choice to give a captive. Still, should I eat it? They could be trying to knock me out again. Or poison me. But my stomach growls as it reminds me it’s been a very long time since I’ve eaten anything.
