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I pace up and down for a moment, trying to figure something out. I need to get out of here.

Then a thought strikes me, and I pause my pacing, staring at the door.

Matteo stormed out and slammed the door shut behind him. I don’t think he locked it. I wonder…

I approach the door slowly and test the handle. It’s unlocked! Yes! Finally, Mister Perfect Don makes a fucking mistake. I turn the handle and open the door only to come face to face with a guard glaring down at me.

I recognize the big goon as the one who kidnapped me from the street. Shit. I shut the door quickly and back away. My heart races in my chest. I don’t know if it’s from the fact I thought I could escape or the surprise of seeing the goon outside.

Matteo clearly is Mr. Perfect who learns from his mistakes. He isn’t taking a chance after my last escape attempt. An armed guard is certainly a deterrent, and I doubt I’ll best him or catch him off guard.

Frustrated, I go to the bathroom to shower. I let the warm water wash over me, then wash my hair. I need to scrub the feel of men off my body.

Once done, I climb into bed. I consider retrieving my book but decide I’d rather rest. The weird dreams about Matteo return, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I woke up hot and flustered two, maybe three times, during the night. My imagination certainly knows how to run wild.

When I wake in the morning, I do a few push-ups and jumping jacks before I have another shower. When I come out with a towel wrapped around me, Maria’s put more clothes on the bed and breakfast and coffee on the table.

Maria is just about to leave the room when I stop her. “Maria, please, can I ask you something?”

“No,” she says coldly. “I’m not to talk to you.”

“Please, I just want to know what Matteo Ricci wants with me. If you could ask him to come talk to me.”

“No, I obey Mr. Ricci. Stop talking, get dressed, and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

She shuts the door behind her, and I reluctantly do what she said. When I’m done with breakfast, I return to the book, with nothing better to do than wait for Matteo’s daily visit. Except it never comes.

I wonder if I gave him an infection and he needed to go to the hospital. They do say the human mouth is full of bacteria. Ew, I wonder if he’s infected me with something. You never know.

Paranoia settles in my stomach now, and I focus on my breathing and how I feel. My body doesn’t feel any different, but that’s not to say that something won’t change by tomorrow or the next day.

I hope Matteo knows he’s driven me to insanity.

I have lunch and dinner without seeing him, and eventually have a shower before bed and have the weird dreams again.

The next morning when Maria comes in, I quickly ask, “Why didn’t Matteo come to see me yesterday? Is he okay?”

Maria doesn’t say anything as she sets down the tray and takes my dirty laundry.

“Come on, I just want to know if he’s okay.”

I’m not worried about him, but maybe if he’s out of the house, there’s a way for me to escape. Maybe his men relax when he’s not around.

I ask Maria again at lunchtime and at dinner time. When she comes to collect the dishes for dinner, I frown and put my hands on my hips.

“You know, it’s incredibly rude to ignore a guest.”

Maria gives a short ‘ha’ and places some clean clothes on the sofa next to me before she collects the dishes and leaves without a backward glance. I glare as she shuts the door.

I pick up a new book and start reading it. The selection still sucks, and Matteo hasn’t sent any romantasy as he promised. When I see him, I’m going to complain.

These books are okay. I don’t mind fantasy, but it’s not my favorite genre, and these authors are older authors who write long, flowing prose. Which I’m not a fan of.

I eventually go to bed, and the next morning I have breakfast first, then exercise a little more than I did yesterday. After the hot, intense dreams I’m having, I need to exercise off a little frustration, though there are few exercises I can do while locked in this room.

I do my best though, using books for weights and doing push-ups, jumping jacks, and running on the spot.

Still, throughout the day, I get my meals but no sign of Matteo. I’m starting to stress that he’s not unwell and I’ve really pissed him off, and he’s planning something for me. I wish he’d do it so I don’t have to wait. It’s the waiting driving me stir crazy.