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“Show me your account,” he ordered.
I scrambled across the bed, pulling the sheet back over my body while I was at it. My phone was still in my purse on the bedside table and I took it out and pulled up my Instagram account. He held out his hand, clicking his fingers impatiently, and I passed the phone to him. There was a long moment of silence as he stood with one hand on his hip and scrolled silently. Then he paused, looking at me with an eyebrow raised.
“You make money with naked pictures of your body,” he observed.
“I do not,” I said.
He turned the phone around to show me the picture I’d posted a few months ago where I’d posed almost nude for a photo shoot. I blushed and pulled the blanket closer to my chest and he smirked.
“I’m not naked there, it’s art. There’s a pillow over my chest,” I said.
“A pity,” he said, slipping my phone in his pocket.
“That’s my phone!” I reached for it without thinking and he seized my wrist and pushed me back against the bed.
“You gave up your phone privileges around the time you decided to look at my personal laptop,” he snapped. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d shut up and let me decide what I’m going to do with you.”
I opened my mouth to counter him, but the look in his eyes silenced me. There was something terrifying lurking just beneath the surface, no longer exciting as it had been last night. Now it just made me go cold at the thought of what he might do.
I shivered and watched as he ran a hand furiously through his hair and paced the length of the room. Then he pulled out his phone and put it to his ear and spoke rapidly in Italian. I understood a few words here and there, but he was talking too quickly for me to make out anything of value.
He hung up after a minute and turned on me. “You’re coming with me,” he said flatly. “Or I’ll have to dispose of you.”
“What?” I stammered. “Are you insane?”
“Listen,” he said forcefully. “My brother has this resort in his pocket and they won’t tell a soul if some nosy girl goes missing. So you can make the choice between coming with me where you might be useful or else. Honestly, disposing of you is the better option for me.”
My pulse was racing, out of control, and sweat was running down my back. There was a faint buzzing sound in the back of my skull as my mind raced at a million miles an hour. I didn’t want to believe he was capable of kidnapping or killing me, but one look at the hard expression on his face and I knew he was. Somehow I’d been so tipsy from the wine and drunk on desire for him, I’d missed all the red flags.
“My parents are going to miss me,” I whispered.
“People go missing every day,” he said. “I’m not worried about police either.”
“What are you going to do with me if I go with you?”
He reached out and pulled me to my feet in a rough movement. I gasped and collided with him, clutching the sheet closer, and he smiled. His hand came up and tangled in my hair, drawing my head back until I was forced to look up into his burning, dark gaze. Despite everything, my nipples hardened and my heart raced even faster.
“Have some fun with you,” he said. “It’s been a while since I had a live-in and you seemed loose and willing last night. I’m looking forward to getting to fuck you.”
Images of being pinned to a bed while he had his way with me flashed through my mind. It was both terrifying and strangely arousing. I struggled against him and he tightened his grip on my hair and I gasped, choking back a sob.
“I’m not,” I managed.
“Not what?”
“Loose. I won’t have sex with you.” I wasn’t able to stem the tears this time. They flowed hot and free down my face and he followed them with his eyes. God, he looked almost hungry with his mouth parted and his tongue caught between his white teeth.
“Oh, so I didn’t make you feel good last night?” he snapped.
“I’ve never done it,” I gasped. “That’s why I said no sex last night. I’m not who you want, I don’t know how to do anything more than what we did.”
That surprised him. His brows drew together and he studied my face, his fingers still firmly ensconced in my hair. My chest heaved and his gaze flickered over me, lingering on my breasts, and then he pushed back and released me.
“You’re trying to tell me you’re a fucking virgin?” he said.
Was I supposed to be indignant or ashamed? I wasn’t sure so I nodded and kept my head down, glaring at him from beneath my lashes. He sighed harshly and went to the desk, taking out something that looked like a pen. It took me a moment to realize what he was doing, but it was too late to struggle when it sunk it what was in his hand. He uncapped it and pushed it into the soft skin of my neck and I cried out at the pain.
“Ride’s almost here,” he said. “We can talk about your virginity later.”
