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Glancing back at her, I reply, “Yes. And since I’m getting furniture delivered for you, I’m providing you with a much better space than you did for me when you had me in your home. I look forward to your gratitude.”
Her mouth falls open, but she’s speechless, and I leave the room while smirking to myself. I’ll need to get the furniture delivered tonight, along with clothes for her. One last thing I’ll need is a lock—for the outside of her door. Never know when something like that might come in handy.
This is going to be more fun than I thought.
Chapter Nine – Thea
I end up on the floor after a while. I pouted, cursed the motherfucker out, and imagined all the ways I’d hurt him, along with some imaginary scenarios that involved me sneaking out of here without Silus catching me—but I know better than to try my luck.
Honestly, I’m confused and annoyed. Any other bad guy would’ve just taken what he wanted from me and then killed me when he was done with me, but no, Silus has to be different. Silus has to be freaking psychotic and act like he’s obsessed with me after knowing me for a few hours.
I mean, what the fuck?
So, yeah, I end up on the carpet, my legs and arms spread out like I’m in the middle of making an angel in the snow, and I stare at the ceiling, wondering if his goons caught my brother already.
If I run, and they have Max? He’ll hurt Max. He made that clear already; if I misbehave, if I try to escape, Max will take the brunt of it. As much as I want to be in it for myself and myself only, I can’t do that to my brother. He’s pretty much my best friend, the only family I could count on my whole life.
I’m stuck here until Silus decides it’s time to let me go, assuming he doesn’t kill me before then, of course. Because who knows? The mafia boss might get tired of little old me and decide there are greener pastures somewhere else.
What really pisses me off the most is the fact that he can say all those things, that he can kiss me like that—toe-curling, mind-blowing, etcetera—and pull himself off me and walk away. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the man is teasing me, tempting me, wanting me to beg for his dick.
I will never beg for that man’s cock. He can go fuck himself.
I cover my face as I groan. I need to remind myself of that anytime I’m with him, because for some strange reason it’s all too easy for me to close my eyes and give in to Silus anytime that black stare is on me.
Fucking hell. How did it end up like this? I told Max his plan was going to backfire in our faces, but I didn’t think it would blow up quite like this. This is crazy.
I lay on the carpet for what must be hours. The next thing I know, Silus is walking in, lugging a large box behind him. “Still pouting?” he asks when he sees me—though I do sit up once he enters the room.
“Fuck off,” I hiss, which only makes him smile. He must get a kick out of my attitude or something, I don’t know, but it’s annoying, seeing him smirk and smile every single time I’m trying to act tough.
“Interesting choice of words. A pity you didn’t say fuck you,” he says, dropping the long box against the wall opposite the door. The door is open, but I know better than to try to make a run for it. With his long legs? The man’ll catch me in two strides. “Because I could think of a few comebacks to that.”
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what sorts of remarks he would’ve said if I would have chosen to say fuck you instead of fuck off.
“We can’t all be comedians,” I deadpan.
All Silus does is smile as he leaves the room. He’s not gone for long, however; within another minute he returns carrying another box. I sit, hugging my knees to my chest, watching as he carries box after box into the room, leaning them against the wall and laying one or two down. I don’t offer to help. I’m the kidnapee here, so I’m not lifting a finger.
I don’t get up to inspect the boxes, but I see some pictures. A bedframe, a tall and a short dresser, and a desk. All for little old me in this prison cell.
The final thing Silus brings into the room is a screwdriver, and he slips it into his pants’ pocket before unbuttoning his suit jacket. “What do you want to build first?” he asks as he pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it over one of the boxes leaning against the wall. The man wears all black, like the devil himself, and I hate how good he looks.
He begins rolling up the sleeves to his black, button-up shirt, and I get a little too distracted by his bare arms. The man has tattoos on both his forearms, and I hate how I’m instantly more attracted to him as a result.
Tattoos are sexy, okay? I don’t make the rules.
When I don’t say a word, he says, “All right, I’ll choose. We’ll start with the bed frame so we can get your mattress set up.” He pulls the respective box to the middle of the room, laying it between us, and then he pulls out the screwdriver from his pocket to use it to help undo the staples holding the box shut.
“Why didn’t you have them build it?” I ask with a frown. If I don’t focus on frowning, I might just stare at Silus a little too hard and make a fool of myself—and I don’t want that. It’s bad enough he’s the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen; I don’t need to act like some wimpy schoolgirl with her first crush.
“I thought we could build the furniture together. It’ll be a bonding experience.”
I laugh, but that laugh tapers off immediately when I realize he’s not kidding. “You’re serious. You… want us to bond while building furniture?” It all sounds so ridiculous when I say it. How come he sounded so damned sexy when he said the words?
Silus’s wide shoulders go up and down once. “We have to get to know each other somehow, and what better way than this? I don’t know if you know this, but when you’re building furniture with someone, you get to know the real person.”
“And how’s that?”
