Sharon
“So, you are telling me you have no idea who kidnapped you?”
Sharon squirmed in her seat, shaking her head wearily. She had been at the police station for hours, stuck in a little room with a table and chair like she was a criminal. The detective before her hadn’t relented, apparently not believing that she had no idea who had taken her off the streets.
She hadn’t known who those two goons were. Sure, she knew all the facts from the time she’d ended up half-naked in that club, parading around the stage before Vittorio had rescued her.
But what she hadn’t interjected was Vittorio himself.
“I do not know,” Sharon said once more, her voice steady. “They threw hoods over our heads and kept us in a room with no windows. I-I was just fortunate enough to escape when they attempted to move us.”
The detective arched a brow in disbelief.
“You escaped.”
“I already told you this,” she said, knowing he did not believe her story.
But what could he do about it? It was her story, her version of events and, short of hooking her up to a lie detector, he had no way to prove that she was lying.
“I slipped past the man who had come to get us and ran like hell. It took me quite some time to get here. I-I am just grateful that I was able to flag down a car to bring me home.”
The man exhaled a breath and pushed away from the table, standing with his notepad.
“Wait here.”
Sharon watched him go, waiting until the door was shut before she let out her breath with a shudder. She knew they were watching her, so she didn’t even attempt to make any sudden movements, Instead, she hunched her shoulders so she kept the wounded girl look a bit longer.
On the inside, she was wounded, horribly so. It had been two days since she had escaped Vittorio, two days since she had careened from upstate New York in his prized Mercedes. She had driven through the night, scared that he would wake up any second and find her missing. Finally, when Sharon thought she was far enough away, she had slept in the car and then drove the rest of the way to her apartment, ditching the car in a nearby parking lot.
Her roommates had been excited and relieved to see her, though Sharon didn’t give them much information before collapsing on her bed for a decent night’s rest.
But Vittorio had claimed her dreams, with the tenderness she had seen in his eyes during their last session, the way he had told her he loved her. Sharon had woken with tears in her eyes and a hole in her heart. Why couldn’t he have been her Prince Charming? Why did he had to be so… so ruthless, so unfeeling when he had killed that man in front of her? She had loved him.
The detective returned, and Sharon straightened.
“You can go,” he stated, looking none too pleased with it. “But if you think of anything, call me.”
“I-I will,” Sharon responded, standing. “Thank you. I’m just happy to be home.”
He said nothing but escorted her out the police station, giving her his card on her way out.
Sharon thanked him as she moved down the sidewalk, feeling her chest loosen the farther away she got. She hadn’t anticipated her roommates filling out a missing persons report. Of course, she was touched that they had been worried about her, but now she had to be careful about what she did for a few days, especially since that detective didn’t believe her.
Who was she kidding? Sharon knew she was going back to her real life, her life before Vittorio. Her life would become dull once again, just the way it should have always been.
Besides, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe her story. She could have told the detective the truth and he would have probably committed her to the psych ward. She wasn’t the type of girl whom a mob boss would fall head over heels in love with.
“Ugh!” she said aloud, not caring who was around her.
She had to forget Vittorio. Their worlds were never meant to cross, and she was never meant to fall in love with such a brute.
She was better off, no matter how much it hurt. As much as she wanted to say that her feelings weren’t real, the hours that ticked by while she was separated from Vittorio were painful. She could literally still smell him on her skin, feel his lips on hers as he took her over and over again. He had poured his love out to her.
And she had walked away.
Sharon straightened her shoulders as she turned the corner, her apartment building coming in sight. She sure as hell had walked away. He was brutal, uncaring toward others and, while she felt that he had feelings for her, those feelings could not be love. She had asked him to stop and he had ignored her, yelled at her like it was her fault that he had killed that intruder. That could not possibly be love.
Sharon’s steps faltered as she got closer to her building. Wasn’t she right, running? Everyone around her would think she was crazy to stay.
But in Vittorio’s arms, under his touch, she had been happy. He had given everything and more.
“You are being ridiculous, Sharon,” she grumbled, pulling open the door.
Of course, this was the right thing for her life. She couldn’t live in his violence filled one, worried about her livelihood at every turn.
It was not for her.