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I shouldn’t ask for anything. It’s only going to make him more upset with me.I shook my head and took a step back. Giancarlo didn’t need me ruining his life or getting in the way. It was the one thing I knew I was born to do.
His weighted gaze finally landed on me again. Giancarlo jerked his head toward the house, and I turned on my heels, running up the steps. The doorknob turned with no issues once I typed in the code, and I mentally shook my head.
Before the door could close, the engine revved, and the sound of tires peeling off the pavement resonated. I turned just to watch the taillights of Giancarlo’s car disappear down the road.
The door shut, and I leaned against the thick wood. Everything around me was foreign but familiar in the way it was empty. My stomach knotted. I pushed off the door in search of something to do.
* * *
Nighttime rolled aroundbefore I knew it. I’d looked at and explored every unlocked room in the house. Giancarlo lived like someone out of a magazine; it made the house feel empty in a way.
I made mac and cheese and stared at my bowl as it turned cold. I knew when someone wasn’t coming home. I was used to it. There had been countless dinners that had gone cold, or nights I went hungry because I was out of food.
My head rested on the cool surface of the table as I waited for Giancarlo to return. Time ticked by as the ever-pressing silence weighed down on me, a constant reminder I was alone. There was a lot I could deal with. Being sold, fine. Being yelled at and beaten? I could take that and keep pushing forward. What I couldn’t handle was the endless silence of being alone.
Panic crept up my back, sinking its claws into me the longer I sat there in silence. I jumped up. A shout worked its way up my throat. The sound bounced off the walls, momentarily erasing the ever-pressing quiet. Any noise was better than nothing. I found the radio in the kitchen and turned it on. I used to do this all the time when I stayed with my dad. This was no different.
It’s fine. Besides, it’s better this way.I needed to learn to live on my own. Without anyone. The world tilted, and I aimlessly grabbed at the chair to catch myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on the voices coming from the radio.
“I’m not alone.”
For all I knew, Giancarlo would be back tomorrow. There was nothing to panic about. He wasn’t anything like my father. He’d go for a few days, weeks, sometimes months on end, leaving me at home with nothing or no one. Even thinking about that man made my skin crawl and my spine go ramrod straight.
Day two rolled around, and I jumped out of bed smiling. I ran down to the kitchen, expecting to see Giancarlo. When I was greeted with more silence, I turned the tv on in the living room and took in slow, shallow breaths.
I slapped my cheeks and decided right then and there that I’d work on my life once I was free. One thing I wasn’t great at was cooking. My dad never let me cook much. He said if I became too good at it, I might as well cut my dick off and become a girl.
Giancarlo was fantastic at cooking, and he had a dick. I rummaged through the kitchen and found a cookbook. I flipped through it and chose at random. It couldn’t be too hard to learn.
I’d probably have a dish finished and ready to present to Giancarlo when he returned. Maybe it would put him in a better mood.
Day three I spent on the couch and watched every movie I could. I stared at the screen until my eyes burned, and the captions on the bottom of the screen blurred together.
Day four, a knock at the door had me dropping the spatula in my hand, the pancake forgotten as I ran toward the door. My fingers fumbled with the damn lock as I moved as quickly as possible. I yanked it open, a smile plastered on my face.
“Finally, you’re ba—” My mouth snapped shut at the delivery guy standing at the door.
“I need you to sign for this.”
I grabbed the pen automatically and let the disappointment settle in the pit of my stomach. He handed over the package, nodded at me, and left.
I stared outside for a while. I couldn’t help myself as I stepped forward and looked both ways. I held my breath as I listened out for Giancarlo’s car. The cold New York air nipped at my exposed flesh as time ticked by. There was no sign of Giancarlo coming back.
“Where are you?”
Movement to my left made me step further out of the house. I froze on the spot as fear slithered down my spine. There were men in the shadows. Their gazes flickered to Giancarlo’s house. I back-pedaled and slammed the door shut. The lock flipped, and I raced over to the window to see if they were visible from there. One was across the street. He had a newspaper in his hands, but his gaze was on the house.
My hands trembled as I yanked the drapes closed and backed away. It had to be all in my head. I was probably conjuring up crap being left all by myself. My father always said I had an overactive imagination.
I shook out my hands and decided to busy myself until Giancarlo got home. There was a layer of dust on everything.Guess I may as well tidy up. Who wouldn’t want to come home to a clean house?
I forced all my thoughts of loneliness and want out of my head. Instead, I focused on my tasks.
Day five rolled around. There was nothing left to clean, nothing left to distract me. The ceiling gave me no answers, and the thought of getting up to make food made me feel sick to my stomach.
My hand traveled down my torso and wrapped around my cock. Pleasure rippled through me, but it was nothing compared to Giancarlo’s hand.
Or his ass.
