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His words are my undoing. Pleasure rips through me, shattering me.
“Yes!” he growls. He thrusts in again, grinds against me. I watch him, amazed by the power of his release, the way his face is contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
I reach up, pressing my palm against his cheek. A wave of emotion overcomes me, and I lift my head to kiss him.
He jerks back, staring at me in shock. Like he’s wondering what I’m doing. “That’s not what this is.”
I don’t know what he means, but I know I feel his words like a slap in the face.
He moves off me, quickly exiting the bed. It's bad enough that I'm attracted to the man who kidnapped me and will very likely kill me, but it is beyond crazy that I feel his actions as a rejection. If I do survive this, I'm going to need some pretty intensive therapy to deal with how messed up all of this is.
He strides naked into the bathroom, and a moment later, I hear the shower going. I'm feeling vulnerable and want to put the robe on as if it would protect me. But I don't want to anger him. So far, he hasn’t hurt me physically, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Or he could lock me up somewhere with fewer comforts. Things are bad enough. I don’t want to make them worse.
I pull the covers up around me tightly. When he comes out of the bathroom, he dresses and then goes over to the table, picking up the phone I used earlier. Panic flashes through me. Will he be able to tell that I used the phone? Of course, he can if he takes time to look. But maybe he won't look.
He turns to me, watching me, but I can’t decipher his expression. "Tomorrow, Donovan is going to move you out to my compound. I expect you to behave."
For a moment, I wonder if that behaving simply means to not resist Donovan when he takes me to the compound, or does it mean something more? Will he want to touch me too? I've heard of stories where that happens. Where several men touch a woman. I’ve heard my father’s men say how they’ve taken a woman one after another.
He cocks his head to the side and studies me. "Not to worry,cara mia. You are still too valuable to me to kill."
It seems like I should be relieved by that, but I'm not. "Will he want from me what you want?"
His brow furrows into confusion, and then finally, he says, "No. I don't share." His dark expression softens only slightly. "None of my men will touch you like I do. You have my word."
He didn't say his men wouldn't hurt me, only that they wouldn't touch me in the intimate ways that he had. At least now I know if his men do touch me, it will be for the purposes of killing me and not to have sex with me.
"Get your rest, and then tomorrow, you need to eat a good breakfast. You lost too much weight."
My insides respond by warming, as if his words suggest that he cares for me. Fortunately, at the moment, I have control of my brain, and while I don't know why he cares about my weight loss, I know it's not because he cares for me.
"Where are you going?" I figure even mob bosses need to sleep sometimes, so why is he leaving?
"I'm going to do a little more work. I’ll sleep elsewhere."
I wonder if he would have stayed had I not tried to kiss him. There was something about that kiss that seemed to unsettle him. At the same time, there's a relief that he won't be in the room with me. I’m tired and sore and want to be alone.
I'm awakenedthe next morning by Maria entering my room. She sets a new pile of clothes on the table.
"Your breakfast will be up in fifteen minutes." Then she exits the room, leaving me alone.
I know from experience growing up in my family that when any of my father's men or staff tell me to do something, I’m expected to do it. They are an extension of his orders, and so Iassume it's the same with her. She’s telling me to do something Niko wants me to do.
I exit from bed and head to the bathroom where I shower and then put on the clothes Maria left for me. The dark jeans are a little loose, as is the top. The sneakers are a half-size too long. But at least nothing is too small.
I remember that Nikko said I would be moved today, so I pull my passport out from underneath the mattress and attempt to hide it in my clothes.
Maria returns with a tray with a full breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon, milk, and juice. It smells delicious except for when the scent reaches my stomach and it rolls over.
"I'm not really very hungry."
"You are expected to eat.”
I decide I'll wait until Maria leaves and then flush the breakfast down the toilet to make it look like I ate it. But she begins to straighten the room and every now and then looks over in my direction, as if she's checking to make sure I'm eating.
I have a baby growing in me, so I should at least make an attempt to eat. I get one egg down when my stomach revolts. I bolt from my chair, rushing to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time for my stomach to empty its contents.
I sit by the toilet, feeling exhausted and overcome with chills. I hear talking in the bedroom, and a moment later, Maria enters the bathroom along with the man who had driven me back here last night. Had it really been only last night?
