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I took a sip of Brandy. It was enough to make me smile as she stormed back to me, frustrated. It was all I could do to keep from laughing.
“I want to leave.”
I stood up and walked over to her. “Now, you see, this building . . .mybuilding… was conceived with people like you in mind. Thieves, assassins, and stubborn, ungrateful missies. I’m afraid you need a code to activate it, or else that elevator is nothing but a wall of glass. The code is your way out.” I leaned closer to her ear to whisper the next part. “Though, I don’t think I remember what it is.” I grabbed her phone from her hand and threw it into the pool. “I hope you see now, Maria, because I won’t say it again: you’re mine until I say you’re not.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Maria
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.I squinted my eyes to open them, and it hurt to readjust to the bright lighting in the room. I groaned and stretched out. My head was fuzzy and blurry, as though I were swimming or had been spinning for hours. My body felt numb from inertia. What in the hell had happened? I finally brought myself to open my eyes. Once I did, I took my time to assess the situation. Had it all been a dream? I shut my eyes again and squeezed them as tightly as possible, hoping to push myself out of whatever delusional state I was in. But when I opened them, the setting around me remained the same.
Then my memory began to return to me in small, disjointed pieces. As each fragment returned, it found a way to piece itself with the preceding event, and then it all made sense. The part where I had slammed down a whole glass of wine out of anger returned to me. It was responsible for me waking up in a room I have no memory of entering and—
I quickly checked to see that my clothes were still on my body. Then the worst thoughts filled my head. Would I even know if he had done something to me? No, I would know if the bastard tried to force his way into my body. I would remember something,anything. It was not something I would have no memory of, no matter how drunk I was. I touched myself just to be sure, and there was no pain. Only the memory of how Angelo had touched me consensually in what felt like moments ago. I wanted more, I had been left wanting. My hands reached to my thighs, touching myself and lying open on the bed in this strange, exquisite room. It didn’t feel the same, though. I let my hands fall to my sides with frustration and anger for myself.
It didn’t feel the same way when Angelo touched me, and I was furious at myself for wanting it as much as I wanted it. He was a criminal, after all. I wished I could tattoo the words on the inside of my brain to stop myself from getting any bad ideas.Damn. I swallowed to soothe my dry throat and threw the bedsheet off of my body.
I stood up and moved around the room, my heart beating faster than normal. For the first time since I had awoken, I took a close, curious glance at my surroundings, and my mouth gaped in awe. It was a good start if this was his attempt to impress me. It was avery good start, and I could not begin to deny that.
The room was painted in all white, with pink ceilings. In the center of the room hung a large chandelier, so large it took charge of the whole room. It was a three-tiered confetti drop bronze and gold chandelier, and it sparkled as the sunlight fell upon it. Almost everything in the room was made of glass and other very expensive materials. The cupboard was made of glass and snakewood. There was a tall bookshelf of books, and it struck me as odd that a man like Angelo would be interested in literature. On closer inspection, it looked like he had more crime novels than any other genre. It was not surprising. One was a guide to running businesses. This had to be the master bedroom, which would explain why it was so exquisite and expensively furnished. Like he was flaunting his wealth in my face.
On the table was a record player. A small chuckle escaped my throat. I don’t think I’ve seen one of those in years. It was black and larger than I remembered them to be. I rushed towards it. My ex-boyfriend’s dad used to have one of these, and sometimes we would dance away in the living room when his father, who would never let him touch it, was away. I remembered it vividly, except that, in my mind now, where there was once had been a skinny, blonde, lovesick teenage boy dancing with me, there was Angelo. I caught myself and stopped.What the hell was that?
After watching him set the vinyl up a few times, I had learned how to do it. But that was a long, long time ago. Watching the record player with interest, I started to wonder if I would even be able to get it going, and how much it would cost to get a new one, in the likely instance that I destroyed this one. It looked so expensive. I lifted its arm and positioned the stylus with the help of the cue lever. The music began and startled me, I jumped in delight, celebrating the fact that I had been able to work it.
It was playing Nelly Furtado’s “Shit on the Radio”. I leaned against the wall and let the music speak to me. This man had guts to hold me against my will, especially since he was being unrepentant about it. I can’t believe that he was keeping me here. What did he think I was, one of his whores? Biting my lip, I crossed my hands over my chest. When I got out of here, I would report it to the cops. I didn’t care. He couldn’t possibly have every policeman in the state under his thumb. That wasn’t possible.
His choice of women must have been staggering; he could have any girl he wanted in the world. So why did he come for me? The more I thought about it, the crazier it seemed to drive me. Angelo would get what he wanted from me sooner or later, and I would be just another notch in his belt. He would move on to find someone else, and then what? He would finally get the satisfaction he was looking for from ruining my life. I could not let that happen. There was too much at stake for me to lose.
Just thinking about my mother made my heart break into a thousand pieces. She needed me. She needed me more than I needed myself. After everything that she had done for me, the least I could repay her with was a lover who wasn’t a mafioso. What kind of daughter would that make me? Thanks to him, I’d just lost my job, the only stable thing I had going for me to take care of my family and our hospital. My life was in tatters, and Angelo was at the very root of it, smiling at me. I would find a new job and prove to him that I could manage everything alone. As soon as I got out of this place, Iwould. Though I wondered how many hours I’d have to stay in this room first.
I noticed that the room smelled of roses, and I found myself fantasizing about Angelo despite myself as the music played on. This was madness! I was fighting fire with fire. Settling back on the bed, I stared at the door. Of course, it would be locked until whenever he decided to open it. As if on cue, I heard a noise behind the door. I assumed it was Angelo, and that he had finally come to see me.
There was a knock on the door first. I stayed silent. Angelo wouldn’t knock. He was the kind of man to barge in. The knock repeated itself, and I cleared my throat and said, “Come in.”
The door opened without the sound of keys. I guessed it wasn’t locked, after all.
A blonde-haired, well-dressed woman walked in, smiling so openly it seemed suspicious. Was she here to prepare me like a lamb on its way to slaughter, to prepare me to be devoured by Angelo?
“Good morning, Miss Maria. I’m so glad you’re awake. I was scared to wake you.” She stood there, a few feet away from the door. Her eyes widened when she took note of the music and looked at the vinyl player. “Oh no, Mister Angelo doesn’t let anyone touch that.” She was rushing towards it, then she suddenly paused, thinking it through. “Though, for you, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
Why? What makes me different from the other women that have graced this luxurious suite?
I stared at her in contempt. Even though she had done me no wrong, she worked for the man who was keeping me hostage here.
“Breakfast is ready,” she announced. “But Mr. Preston asked me to prepare a bath for you before breakfast. Let’s not keep him waiting for too long.”
“I would keep him waiting for as long as it takes,” I snorted but got up anyway.
She said nothing but maintained her smile.
I followed her to the next room, which was too luxurious for a bathroom. It was bigger than the size of my living room!
We stared at each other. Obviously, she was used to getting this reaction from his other women. What was it with me and imagining that he had so many other women?
“This is the part where we undress,” she said.
I was beginning to think that the smile was carved into her face, that she was born that way, with her cheeks reaching her ears.
