I heard the lock on the cell door click and footsteps cross the stone floor. I didn't know how long I'd been in that prison because there was no way to tell when it was day or night, but it felt like it had been a month. I could barely open my eyes to see who was in the room but I just didn't care. All I knew anymore was darkness and sleep. I didn't want to open my eyes or be aware of anything. I just wanted to go back to sleep.

I knew the water that they had been bringing me was drugged. Every time I took even a sip of it I just wanted to go back to sleep. I considered stopping drinking it but the thing is, I felt so much better when I was asleep. At least there I could dream that I was somewhere else. But even when I didn't dream, when I slept I wasn't aware of the fact that I was being held prisoner in this horribly cold stone room. So, I continued to drink the water so that I didn't have to be there anymore.

I felt hands underneath my body. That was the first time anyone had touched me since I had been put in the cell. I tried to open my eyes but the room was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing so I just closed them again. I was scooped up and wrapped in the blanket that was covering me, then lifted off the bed. I was so weak and tired that I couldn't hold my head up and it just fell backward and dangled as it left the pillow.

I heard the steady click of footsteps as I felt myself move through space. After quite a few steps I heard the familiar moan of the female voice that would appear just before and just after the tray of food and water had been brought into my cell. She was right near me somewhere. I opened my eyes but everything was a blur and upside down from my perspective, so I just shut my eyes again and prayed that I wasn't going somewhere worse than I had already been.

After being carried up a few different flights of stairs and down a carpeted hallway, I felt my body being set down onto a soft bed and a thick fluffy down comforter pulled over me. It was so soft and warm and cozy that I almost started to cry, but instead I just drifted off to sleep again.

* * *

When I finally opened my eyes, I just lay there for a few minutes trying to adjust to the light that was streaming in the window. I was confused because I didn't feel the heavy weight of my drugged eyelids or the thick fog in my brain like I had when I woke up in the dark cell. The room wasn't bright, but there was natural light streaming in through the curtains and I could see that I was in a furnished room.

I had been drugged and in the dark for so long that at first I had a hard time recalling what my bedroom in my apartment looked like. But then I realized that I wasn't back home, or in my old bedroom in my father's house. My brain was still moving a bit slowly and being in an unfamiliar room didn't help. I was still very disoriented, even though I didn't feel drugged anymore.

I used to know immediately where I was when I woke up in the morning. I used to know what day it was and I could tell by the angle that the sun came in through the window if I had slept through a class or the whole day and was actually waking up at five o'clock at night. But that was all gone now like someone had taken an eraser and wiped that part of my brain away.

I pushed myself up so that I was leaning on my hands and I looked around. The room was enormous with a dressing table and a desk and round table that was surrounded by chairs. There were also a variety of stuffed chairs scattered around the room that were all dark in color so I didn't realize right away that there was someone sitting in one of them. When I did it startled me but because all of my reactions seem to be dulled I just sat there leaning on my hands and staring at the shadow in the shape of a man.

"Good morning, Brooklyn," a deep voice said from across the room. "How are you feeling?"

"How am I feeling?" I didn't even know how to answer that question. Confused ... angry ... scared. Those were a few words that I could use to describe the way that I was feeling, I suppose. But I didn't choose any of them.

"Dead."

"Dead? You look very much alive to me," the voice said as its owner remained in the shadows.

"Well, I might as well be from what I understand. Where am I?" I asked as I started to feel steadier.

"You're at my villa ... my family's villa."

"Villa? Like as in France?"

"Italy."

"How long have I been here?" My words were coming out so slowly it felt like my thoughts were being poured out like molasses.

"Six days," said the voice. "You haven't eaten much. I imagine that's why you're feeling so weak."

"Yeah, that or the drugs you've been feeding me."

"Yes, I imagine that you feel disoriented from the sedatives as well."

"How do you know how I feel? You don't know me."

"Well, I do know who you are, and I know a little bit about you."

"What do you know about me?"

"I know that you lived in Manhattan and that you were studying fashion design at Parsons. And that you had a dream once where you wore a long pink dress that was made out of feathers and when you woke up you realized that you wanted to design beautiful dresses."

I looked into the dark shadows at the shape that was sitting on the chair and I immediately knew who it was. There is only one person in the world I had ever said that to, that I had ever told about my dream.

When I was sixteen years old, my mother and father took me to a remote island resort for the summer that only certain families even knew about. Certain wealthy families, but also families with certain connections, but I didn't find out about that part until much later.

My father always impressed upon me how lucky I was whenever we were at exclusive restaurants or resorts, like the private island we were vacationing on. I always felt like he thought that I wasn't grateful enough unless I knew how much money he was spending.

I blushed as I remembered that dream. It was so long ago I had almost forgotten it. Almost but not quite. But the part I remembered most wasn't the dream. It was the look on Adrian's face as I was telling it to him. I kept expecting him to laugh but he never did. He just smiled as he listened and then told me he thought I would look gorgeous in a dress like that. That was when I started to fall in love with him.

I didn't even know what love meant back then. I don't think anyone really understands at sixteen. But what else is it when you can't stop thinking about someone, year after year. When you meet other boys and they never quite measure up to that one, the one boy you dream about almost every night. What exactly is that if it isn't love?

The memories of that summer had kept me happy for years. Whenever I was feeling down, I would think about those days and weeks and the memories always made me feel better. My father was there on business and my mother found ways to stay busy with the wives of all the businessmen who were there for the summer as well. So I went off and entertained myself by finding caves and tide pools along the beaches and that was how I met Adrian Bellini.

My father had mentioned the Bellini family before but I had only heard the name during vague business discussions between my mother and father. Usually, the conversations that involved that name wound up in a fight so I tended to go to my room and turn on some music whenever the name was brought up.

It wasn't until I watched this tall, handsome boy walk across the beach over to where I was sitting that I laid eyes on him. His skin was already very tan and as he crossed the beach in just a pair of white shorts I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

As he drew closer to where I was sitting I realized that he wasn't a boy at all, really he was a man of twenty. Four years older than I was. But boy was all I knew to call someone I liked back then. As he approached, I saw the darkness of a late afternoon shadow on his jawline and when he put his sunglasses on his head to show me a shell with a creature tucked inside, I couldn't stop staring at his gorgeous, dark brown eyes.

I could never understand the way his eyes made me feel. Like I was at the end of a telescope that he was looking through and I was being examined very closely. Like every ounce of attention he had was trained right on me. It made me feel uncomfortable but it also made every inch of my body tingle.

I almost couldn't breathe when I would look up and see his eyes focused on mine. Whenever he looked over at me the whole world around us seemed to disappear. It was like the ground fell away underneath me and his eyes were the only thing holding me in place and if I looked away I would fall too.

We spent a lot of time that summer walking on the beach. He was there working with his father so there were a lot of days I didn't see him, but one of the days we spent together was when I told him about that dream.

Not long after that day something happened. His family was called away from the island and after that, my dad told me to stay away from Adrian and his brother Lucas, that they were not good people.

I didn't understand why my father would say that without explaining anything to me and I was angry with him for a long time. But eventually, I started hearing things about girls disappearing in horrible ways and the Bellini family having something to do with it. I didn't understand any of it until now and as I sat there staring at the shadowy figure on the chair I came to the realization that I was now one of those girls.

It's funny how you don't want to believe things you hear about people you think you know. I couldn't even fathom any reason to be afraid of Adrian even when I heard the stories of kidnapping and torture. I thought they must be lies or gross exaggerations. Now I knew the truth.

"Adrian," I said as I pushed the hair back that had fallen over my face.

"So, you remember me?"

"Of course, I remember you. Not like it matters."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I know about you."

"What is it that you know about me?" He said as he leaned forward, his face coming out of the shadows. It had been years since I had seen him and I was astounded by how well I remembered him. His face looked a little bit older, but almost exactly the same as it had in my memory. Exactly the same as it has every time I've pictured him in my head over the last seven years.

And his eyes. His eyes were astoundingly beautiful, and from where I sat appeared like two deep black pools of water with specks of moonlight reflecting off the surface.

"You kill women," I said looking right into his eyes. I wasn't going to let him know anything I was feeling about him. I didn't want him to know that seeing him sitting there crushed my world because he had been the one that I measured every single guy against everywhere I went throughout the last seven years of my life. But I didn't want to think about any of that now. And I didn't want to think about the way his eyes were still making me feel.

"I've never killed anyone, Brooklyn."

"That's not the way I hear it."

"What is it that you've heard? I'm curious."

"I've heard that you and your brother torture and kill women when their families can't pay their debts. I've heard that a lot of girls my age have disappeared and have never been seen again," I said as I looked down. I couldn't stand looking into his eyes anymore. I couldn't stand seeing the look in those eyes that melted every part of my body so long ago, and that my sixteen-year-old self fell in love with. I couldn't stand the idea of who he was now. "I've heard that you're a monster," I said as tears filled my eyes.

"My family does have a reputation, yes. But you can't believe everything you hear, Brooklyn. I suppose you're right, though. I suppose I am a monster like you say."

Adrian got up and I jumped back a little on the bed, afraid that he was going to do something to me. I didn't know what but I didn't feel like I could trust him and that thought killed me.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Brooklyn. I'm sorry that you're so afraid of me, but I imagine that you have every right to be. There's a bathroom through that door. Feel free to take a bath and clean yourself up. While you're in there, I'll have a maid come in and change the sheets and bring up some food for you. There are clothes in the closet that are all yours now. Everything in this room is yours."

"Why are you doing this to me, Adrian," I said, trying very hard to sound angry but only succeeding in making my voice slightly louder.

"I'll come back up in a little while after you've eaten. Maybe we can talk then if you're up for it," he said as he stood in the middle of the room and stared at me. I was still in awe of his beauty. The way his black eyes and eyebrows stood out against his pale skin and bored into me. And the way his muscular arms hung on either side of his body.

"You make it sound like I have a choice," I said as I glanced up briefly. I hated myself for being hypnotized by his eyes every time I looked up at him and now that I knew what kind of person he really was, I hated myself for the way I felt when he looked at me.

"I'll be back up later," he said as he turned and walked out the door. I wasn't surprised when I heard the lock click. I knew I was his prisoner.

I had to keep reminding myself that he wasn't the same person that I had spent all that time with that summer. He looked like the same person, but he wasn't at all. He wasn't the person that listened to me and smiled at my ideas. He wasn't the person who was genuinely interested in who I was and what I had to say. He wasn't the person I had felt completely safe and comfortable with or the person who seemed like he understood me in a way that no one else had up until that point or has ever since.

I cried thinking about how cruel life was. I didn't understand how it could be that I was here with him now. Why had I been taken away from my life by the one person I had dreamed about for the last seven years?