Sharon
Sharon flipped over in the bed and groaned into the pillow, willing for sleep to finally find her. After a rough day of classes, she had come home and studied for hours until she could barely keep her eyes open, hoping that tonight would be the night she would get a full night’s sleep.
So far, her plan had not worked.
Pulling the covers over her body, Sharon tucked herself into a cocoon and forced herself to keep her eyes closed. Not that she wanted to go to sleep. When she did, she had dreams of Vittorio and of the violence, sometimes drifting into him being killed by his rivals. The mere thought of his death chilled her heart. She might have run from him and his life, but she didn’t want him to die.
Her eyes opened and she stared at the wall, counting the cracks in the cheap paint that graced it. Though she didn’t want to go back, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she had stayed, ignored the fact that he had killed a man before her, and continued to love him as if nothing had happened. Would they eventually have drifted apart, his life becoming too much for her to handle?
Would he have allowed her to return to school, to finish out her dreams of a college degree? Or would she have been a prisoner in his penthouse once more, like Rapunzel in the tower, waiting for the life that would never happen? He might have loved her, but Sharon could not imagine Vittorio allowing her to blend her normal life with his brutal one.
So, would she ever be normal again? Sharon thought about Marc today and how he had attempted to ask her out. That is who she should be interested in, someone who lived a calm life and not full of violence. No doubt Marc would have taken her to nice restaurants at first, even to a few parties on campus, before kissing her. Sex would be vanilla with him, with no surprises and definitely no ropes. Then he would have taken her home to meet his parents, probably a sailboat-loving family in the upstate, given his nice tan and accent. They would love her, of course, and she would like them.
But even though she could dream of how that relationship would be, it would not make her happy. Vittorio’s words rang true to her. She would always be his.
The sound of her doorknob turning ever so slightly caught Sharon’s attention and she turned toward the door, her heart stopping in her chest as she saw the masked intruder standing there, his body framed by the kitchen light they left on at night. Her first instinct was to scream, but he put his fingers to his lips, shaking his head slowly. They had found her. Rocco had found her, and now he was going to kill her to make Vittorio hurt.
Oh, she should have never left!
Clutching the blanket over her, she watched with bated breath as he came into her room and shut the door, trying to remember where she had put her mace. After her kidnapping, Sharon had replaced her mace, putting one in every bag and drawer in her room, so she would never go without it.
She had half-hoped she would never need it again.
When he got close to the bed, she lashed out with her foot, hoping to catch him off guard.
But he saw it coming and grabbed her foot, his touch surprisingly gentle as he ran his gloved hand over her instep.
“Did you really think that was going to do anything?”
Sharon froze.
“Vittorio?”
No, he couldn’t be here!
He nodded, his eyes glittering in the dim lighting.
“Are you going to come willingly, or do I have to keep up this ruse?”
He had come for her. Sharon wanted to be excited about it, but fear filled her body more than anything. He had to be upset that she had left him when he had told her not to. He had to be upset she had seduced him, told him she loved him, and then walked away.
“W-what are you going to do with me?” she asked softly, unable to help herself.
“That is for you to find out,” he said, his voice heavy as he held out his hand to her. “Will you come with me?”
He was asking her, leaving it in her court to make up her mind if she wanted this. Sharon was surprised that he wasn’t demanding she come with him, but that he was asking her.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I will protect you from a distance,” he ground out, clearly upset with her that she was not coming immediately. “Please.”
The word nearly broke her, and against her better judgement Sharon took his hand, feeling the cold leather against her skin. He helped her out of bed and she threw on some shoes, grabbing her bag before she was led out of the bedroom and out of the apartment, Vittorio securing the door behind him. He was silent as they walked right out of her building and into a waiting car, Sharon sliding over so that he could fold his large body in next to her.
The car moved as soon as he shut the door and she watched with wary eyes as he removed the mask, running a hand through his hair. He looked just as she had remembered, though there was a haggardness to his face, as if he had not been sleeping well. Lines of exhaustion bracketed his mouth, his eyes tiredly looking at her, and Sharon felt a jolt explode through her body as their eyes connected. Vittorio had come after her. He had asked her to come with him, not demanded her to do so.
He also looked as if he had missed her, which warmed her heart despite the tension between them. She didn’t know what to say, what to do with this Vittorio.