Holly
The first week in Angie and Dario’s apartment was… odd. I didn’t want to go out. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I felt like I was in the wrong skin. Everything was just… wrong. I ached for him. I wondered what he was doing. Who he was doing? Yeah, I thought about that, too. But mostly, why had he sent me away? Was he in danger?
My sister was worried about me. I mostly laid around and pined for Alessandro that first week.
Their family came over lots and they brought their kids to try to cheer me up. Adorable twin girls, Tessa’s cute little boys (but not Tessa, I didn’t see her right away), a baby boy who reached for me like I was his long-lost momma.
We did a girls’ movie night in with me and Luciana (Dario’s youngest sister, just in her early 20s) and Bianca (a good friend of the girls. She was in maybe her late 20s and absolutely gorgeous). Bianca fawned over my hair and told me that she has a salon and would love to take me on as a client. I told her maybe.
And then my eyes lit up. Maybe I was ready for a bold change. Like a pixie cut, dyed blue-black with silver tips. She looked mortified and said with hair as long as mine, I’d want to start with a trim to mid-back and then maybe just below my shoulders instead of jumping straight into a short bob. She warned me about haircut remorse, which could be depressing and that could be bad for me, since I was already in a fragile state.
She told me I would make a pretty penny if I sold my hair, because it was in perfect condition, but told me I shouldn’t make rash decisions. She forbade me to dye it, ever, unless I went prematurely grey.
She also said if I didn’t want to cut my hair I should speak to her friend, who was a talent scout. My sister’d had her and Luc hang with me while she and Dario went to run some errand and then we all sat together afterwards (minus Dario) as she and Ang sat and talked about how I should be acting in shampoo commercials.
The second week, Angie got me to go to an art class with her. It was pretty rudimentary stuff, but it got my mind off things for a few hours. Sort of. Everyone was talking about falling off the wagon or trying not to fall off the wagon with their new year’s resolutions and being all positive and ambitious about life. I was not. I was in the dumps something fierce.
I get rescued from my captor and all I can think of is my captor. Is he okay? Does he miss me? Has he replaced me? Will he ever bring me home?
Ang then organized a paint night for us at the Ferrano’s family restaurant so that we could all try our hand together. Ang knew I had a flair with a brush or a pencil, so I think she was planning this so she could show me off. Put me in my element so I’d feel better.
The girls said I was a better coach than the lady who was leading the paint night and my sister said I should teach at her art school, that my talent in the past two years had really taken off.
I’d had two years to do little else but paint and draw so maybe it had matured.
A bodyguard named Will hangs around the apartment and sleeps on one of the couches in the living room. He shadows me when we go out. It’s sort of odd. He almost never takes a day off and doesn’t seem to mind. Dario told me that Alessandro wanted me safe and that Will was a very trustworthy guy who would definitely keep me safe.
I don’t know if I’m in actual danger or if Alessandro just wants tabs kept on me, but the guard is Dario’s friend’s younger brother so that puts my mind at ease a bit, I guess.
Dario has tried to ask me a couple questions about Alessandro. Nothing too pressing, but kind of letting me know that he was an ear, if I needed, and that I could tell him anything, even if it was things Alessandro would be upset about.
And when he told me that he was loyal to me, as his new little sister, not to think he was at all loyal to Alessandro, that made me cry. He hugged me and then put me into Angie’s arms. I didn’t say anything negative about Alessandro. I didn’t say anything about his operation, how I got there. I didn’t want to talk about it. I also didn’t want to give Dario any reason to go to war with Alessandro. Either way, Angie and I had too much to lose if either of the two got hurt.
Angie asked me about my locket the day after I got to her place and I only told her it was a gift from him. I didn’t tell her it had any sort of panic button inside.
She told me about the collar system at the sex slave resort she’d been at, and I started to cry. They made her wear specific collars, depending on who she was servicing at the resort. The place was crawling with members with very distinct tastes. She told me she had to wear something on her neck otherwise she’d go into a panic about being stolen away because her collar with three strands signified that she was ‘owned’ and unavailable.
She talked to me about her anxiety attacks that she was working on and told me Dario was helping her through them and that she’d started getting counseling. She offered to get me counseling and I insisted that I was fine. And then when she tried to ask me questions about Alessandro again, I changed the subject. And when she tried to change it back, I brought up Mom and that shut her down and put her in a mood that meant she left me alone.
She tried again a day later. I brought up our mom again. That shut her down and she cottoned on to the fact that I played that dirty trick on purpose.
“Every time I ask you about him, you’re gonna bring up her?” she demanded.
“Is that what I’ve been doing?” I asked innocently, not making eye contact.
“I see right through you,” she’d hissed at me and slammed her bedroom door.
She gave me a couple days of space after that. Or was mad at me for a few days. I don’t know. My sister truly is an angel in human form, but it feels like we’re both in some state of ‘processing’.
It’s probably hard for both of us to imagine what the other endured. I imagine she was like me, in her captivity and hoping I wasn’t sick with worry, hoping I was okay.
We were both likely wondering if we’d been declared dead and if there’d been a funeral without a body present, I know I’d had those thoughts multiple times.
And now that she knows what happened to me, she’s angry. She’s also frustrated with me because she knows I’m carrying a torch for someone she thinks of as unworthy.
And I’m upset too. I was completely ignorant to the fact that she was enslaved while I had been kept safe. She was in so much more awful of a position than I was. And now, I have to make her think I’m okay.
But, I’m not okay.
She had to endure thinking I was going to be hurt if she didn’t behave for her kidnappers. She saw me bound and gagged on camera and was told I’d been set free because she was being obedient. And that broke her. My strong, funny, caring sister who was like a lioness was reduced to a broken slave.
She didn’t get into detail, but said she was locked up for days with monsters who systematically broke her. She finally gets on the path to healing and then finds out I was taken, too, and then it took a couple months after finding out I was missing for her to find me.
She finds me and my feelings for my captor don’t make sense to her.
I’m trying to cut her some slack because she had it way worse than I did, but I’m very wrapped up in my own feelings right now, too. She has her prince. I’m apart from mine. And I miss him. I’m worried about him. I worry about what’ll happen when he’s ready to take me back. Will Dario and his brother go head to head with him? I have to convince them that I want him, that I don’t need their help.
And what plagues me most often is fear. Will he come take me back or find some other flower, like he threatened?
My sister and Dario had a dinner party with all Dario’s siblings, their whole family, even their kooky housekeeper Sarah, who I immediately adored. And Tessa came. She and I hugged briefly and she got a little teary eyed and then introduced me to her children. I’d already met Lucas and Antonio with their Aunt Luc a few days earlier and they told her so in an adorable way.
I then met Dario’s older brother Tommy. I’d already met his pregnant wife Tia, at our paint night. She’s only a bit older than me. I really like her, too. She’s very pretty with a cute barely-there yet baby bump and she’s sweet, too.
Tommy Ferrano is so handsome, I was stuttering every time I tried to talk around him. Dario thought it was funny. I could see the humor in his eyes.
Tommy Ferrano had an edgy, angry, hot-guy vibe and if I didn’t already have my sights set on a Spanish angry hot guy, I would’ve been drawing pictures of my sister’s brother-in-law.
Ang caught me staring at him and snickered.
“Don’t let Tia catch you eyeing her man like that. She’s at the irrational hormonal stage of her pregnancy. We were at the restaurant the other night and some girl was looking at Tommy walk by, looking all flirty at him, and Tia squeezed her wineglass so hard it cracked.”
“I’d never go after someone’s husband!” I defended, “He’s just… he reminds me a little bit of Alessandro, that’s all.”
Angie’s expression dropped. “If you’re trying to make me feel better about Alessandro, epic fail.”
“Why?” I asked.
“If Tommy reminds you of him?” She shook her head, “Then he might be even worse than I thought.”
“What does that mean? You don’t like Dario’s brother?”
We were talking low at the kitchen island while she was shoveling hot appetizers from a cookie sheet onto a serving tray and the room was abuzz with chatter.
“Didn’t say that. It’s not like Tommy does the stuff Alessandro does. I’ll just say my brother-in-law Tommy is the definition of scary bad guy.”
“Not everyone can have a good guy,” I said defensively. “Besides, not every guy who seems like a bad guy is 100% bad.”
She looked at me incredulously, “My guy may do bad things. But he does them to protect his family. What he doesn’t do is sell women into slavery.” She delivered that last bit with a hiss and I felt my chin start to tremble.
I was gonna cry. She looked remorseful. We stared at each other for a beat and then her chin started trembling, too.
I spun around, ran to the bathroom like a stupid teenaged drama queen, and locked myself in there.
There was a knock on the door.
“Just… just a minute,” I called.
“It’s Lisa. Can I come talk to you?” Lisa was the widow of Dario’s father, who’d died a few months earlier. She was in her twenties, though.
I wiped my eyes and opened the door.
“Angel sent me in. I hope it’s okay.”
“I’m done. I’ll just---”
“I don’t need to use the bathroom. Here, come to your room with me. Can we talk there?” She took my hand and we went across the hall to my room.
She sat on my bed and patted it. I sat beside her.
“I overheard you and your sister. I’m sorry for eavesdropping. But, totally between you and I --- I know what you’ve been through. I’ve been through something very similar.”
“No,” I gasped.
She nodded, “Dare’s father bought me, put me in school with Tessa, and then I became her friend and then we, Tom and me, started ‘dating’.” She put up mock quotes.
Wow.
“He was good to me. Not so much to others. A lot of people said he was bad to the bone and a lot of people didn’t understand who he was to me. I know just a little bit about you. I also know just a little bit about your fiancé, enough to know how you feel when those around you can’t understand why you’re mourning someone they think is bad. I know your fiancé isn’t dead. But mourning can happen when you’re apart, too, I’d imagine.”
I’m in a little bit of shock. No, a lot of shock.
She continues. “I loved my husband dearly, even though I know he did some bad things. Tia, she loves Tommy more than anything and he is a man who can be hard to love, I’m sure. Dare has way more light than dark but believe me, he’s no angel. That guy’s got some marks on his soul, too. Your sis is 100% loyal to him and would be even if he were a bad guy. She would only see the good in him.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you telling me.” I tried to smile.
“Girls who have been through captivity, who’ve seen the things we’ve seen? I think it’s harder for some of us to love and trust genuinely, but when we do, with all we’ve seen and all we know about the reality of the cold cruel world out there? It’s a deeper level, I think. And it means we know how to overlook some things. Am I making sense?”
I nod. She’s making so much sense that my heart and belly both feel funny.
She pats my leg, “If you ever wanna talk, I’m here. Gimme your phone.”
I pass it to her and she programs her number in and texts herself so she’s got my number.
“Please keep to yourself what I’ve told you. I don’t know how many Ferrano secrets you’ve been told, but since you’re a member of the family through Angel, you should know… we all know what it’s like to love someone that others can’t fathom loving. We see things not everyone sees. Sometimes the bad guy shows the bad to the world but shows his good to his girl. We get protective of them and they need that from us. It helps them know who they truly are deep down.”
I grab her hand. “Thank you, Lisa.”
I don’t want to say anything about my specific situation. It’s mine and Alessandro’s and ours alone. But her words are helpful.
She gives me a squeeze and we walk back out together as dinner is being served.
My sister eyes me and Lisa and then she blows out a breath.
Dario walks by her and kisses her temple, “You good, my baby?” he asks.
She nods at him and then she looks at me and mouths, “I’m sorry.”
I nod and swallow and I take a spot at the table between Lisa and Sarah. I’m right across from Tommy, who is kissing his wife’s knuckles one by one, looking into her eyes with this sexy hot expression. She’s beaming with a joyful look on her face, her free hand resting on her little baby bump.
And I feel so jealous and simultaneously guilty for feeling jealous, that my insides feel like they’ve shriveled up.
***
Will’s a nice guy. He seems to take everything in around me, takes protecting me very seriously. He actually burst into a Forever 21 changeroom to rescue me during a fire alarm.
The other day, I went out without Angie. I wanted to go to the mall and she had house hunting plans with Dare, who wanted to buy them a house (probably because me and Will were cramping their honeymoon lifestyle in the condo) as soon as possible.
She’d given me her credit card and told me to get more clothes. I’d been wearing yoga pants and jeans that she’d been sharing with me, since it was winter time and all my Mexico clothes were summery, but she told me to go and get some of my own.
It was weird to wear jeans. I didn’t have any back home, in Mexico. Funny how I thought of that as home…
The day after we arrived and I’d put a pair on of Angie’s jeans but I was walking almost stiffly.
She jerked her chin up questioningly as I’d approached her at the kitchen island where she’d been making breakfast.
“I haven’t worn jeans in over two years. It feels weird. And these are too short.” I was a few inches taller than my sister. This was new. Before she left for Thailand, I was slightly shorter.
“I feel ya,” Ang said, “I spent two years with 99% of my time in lingerie, so I know.”
Dare had looked up from his newspaper at her and his eyes held something both sorrowful and fiercely protective at the same time. It made my heart feel like it was swelling up to see that.
I turned down repeated offers to go to the mall with her to shop and waited until the day I knew she was busy so that I could go without her. I was too worried that being alone with her would equal more questions, more negative talk about Alessandro. More arguing between us.
At the mall, it also was weird but familiar, to wear a coat again. It was late January and cold in Portland. It wasn’t Alaska cold but it was colder than I’d been around in more than two years.
Throughout the mall trip, Will’s fun personality broke down my somber mood a little and we got chummy. He was smart and funny, constantly cracking dumb, corny jokes. He was also kind of cute in a jock-next-door sort of way with his nice smile, curly brown hair, and big puppy dog chocolate brown eyes.
We shopped and then we went for chili fries in the food court at the mall and talked movies and music and I didn’t get all the pop culture references because I’d been locked away the last two years with limited access to the media (we only got a handful of TV channels and I’d not gone online at all until getting to Angie and Dario’s). Back in Alaska we had a crap computer and a crap internet connection that we only had sometimes since Mom regularly didn’t pay the bill, so I wasn’t exactly techno-savvy.
He teased me when I devoured a large order of chili fries. They’d been my favorite way back when, and I hadn’t had any fast food in two plus years so I really did devour them.
It got awkward when I wanted to shop for bras and underwear and had to ask him to wait outside that store because I was way too shy for that. He was anxious about being too far away from me but reluctantly waited outside the store.
But then when I was trying on a pretty dress that reminded me of the dresses I wore in Mexico (just a bit thicker fabric), the fire alarm went off while I was in the dressing room and Will busted the door to get to me before I had a chance to get fully dressed.
He threw my sweater over my head - I hadn’t even gotten my arms into it - and me over his shoulder and grabbed my purse and we were outta there.
We got outside and it was just a false alarm, which was a relief, but the whole thing was kind of embarrassing. He’d seen me in my bra and I’d had to get my shirt the rest of the way on in front of a crowd while he stood with his back covering me. My face was fuchsia!
He explained that the state of emergency overwrote any sort of dressing room icons with skirts on them in a kind of arrogant alpha male way.
He then apologized and told me that he was just taking my safety seriously. We went to an afternoon matinee movie after that and it was a slapstick comedy that we giggled all the way through.
By the end of it, I felt like I’d made a friend.
***
The next day was Saturday and Angie informed me that she and Dario had a date night planned and that she was going to surprise him with a hotel room. She said this, blushing. I blushed, too.
Yep. Verbal confirmation that Will and I had been cramping their style.
“I might be ovulating,” Ang whispered to me and I smiled big and blew her a kiss.
“Blowing baby dust at you, sis.”
She gave me a big giddy smile.
Will knew from his chat with Ang that it was just he and I for the night and I suggested we watch some movies and I make dinner.
I decided to make spaghetti and meatballs, the back of my mind on the fact that I’d see what Will thought. He’d be like a taste tester, because I decided that it’d be the first meal I made for Alessandro as his wife. I had plans to perfect my recipe until I knew I would knock his socks off.
***
I’m in full food prep mode, two burners going, sink overflowing with dirty dishes, when Will gets up from the sofa, where he’d been flicking through Netflix, calling out movie suggestions to me, but he got up because his phone rang.
I hear him walking down the hall with it, answering, “Will Coulter here. Yes, sir… We are.” He steps out of the condo into the hallway.
I stir the sauce and dump the cooked meatballs in carefully and then wipe the stove of the splatter that happened despite my being careful.
I set the two placemats with cutlery and napkins up at the kitchen island. I turn the water on full blast to fill the giant pot to cook the pasta and start to load the dishwasher with the dishes I’ve already dirtied while prepping. As I’m shutting the dishwasher door, my body locks. I feel my hair going up, as if someone has the length of it in their hand. Lifting it.
What on Earth?
I lock tight. My initial instinct is that it’s Angie, behind me. She always loved to play with my hair, even when it wasn’t nearly to my waist. But Will is the only other person here.
And I hadn’t been getting anything I could decipher as flirting vibes from him, so this very intimate touch puts me on high alert. It might not be Will. Will went in the hall. I’m not in arm’s reach of the butcher knife on the counter but maybe I can lunge if I’m quick.
As I’m about to turn and react, the grip on my hair tightens and then I hear him. Not Will. Not some strange intruder. Him.
“Mi pequeña flor,” Alessandro says under his breath. No, it’s more like he breathes it out, rather than saying it.
I let out a relieved breath of my own and I sink back against him. I feel his heat, the hardness of his body. He still has my hair and he isn’t exactly being gentle but I still melt into him in a way that must tell him I’m relieved it’s him, that he’s here.
“Dinner for two? Date?”
“No,” I laugh and then try to turn around, but he traps me against him, using my hair to keep me where I am.
“Who you cooking for?” His voice is low, against my ear, but it can’t be mistaken; it’s also lethal.
“You.” I have goosebumps everywhere and I’m not sure if they’re the good kind or the bad kind.
“You didn’t know I was coming.” His voice holds accusation.
“I’m practicing. For you. I know it’s your favorite, so I thought I’d try to see if my recipe was good. I’d get Will to taste it and let me know. I haven’t cooked in a long time, but it used to be good---”
“Will? Will isn’t to taste anything that’s mine.” His grip tightens, too tight, and I let out a little cry.
“Has he tasted anything that’s mine, Holly?”
I shake my head.
“No?” he demands, then spins me around and looks deep into my eyes. I look up at him. I’m frozen. God, those eyes.
“No. Of course not. I’ve missed you,” I say and my hand reaches up to touch his jaw. He catches my wrist and holds it tight. Too tight. His eyes are a dark, brewing storm.
“Are you here to take me home?” I try to ignore the pain.
“No. I saw photos of you and Will. Too cozy. I came to make sure you know who owns you.”
“I do.” I give him a smile and the good kind of goosebumps are all over me.
This seems to make him angrier. He’s frustrated with me. Good. I’m not going to let him scare me. I’m not scared. I’m elated to see him.
“Let me get you a drink. Sit down. I’ll finish the pasta. I hope it’s good. Like I said, I’m out of practice.”
The water is still running. The pot is overflowing. He looks at it and then lets me go.
I lift the pot out of the sink, pouring some of the water out as I do, then put it on the stove and turn it on. The sizzling starts. The pot on the stove isn’t the only thing sizzling; I feel like the whole room is sizzling with raw energy.
“Where is Will?” I ask.
“I gave him the night off.”
“Oh.” I go to the fridge. “Wine? Beer? Water? Gatorade? Root beer? My brother-in-law has a thing for orange Gatorade. There’s almost a whole shelf of it in here.”
“Beer.”
I grab a bottle and reach for the bottle opener in the drawer. He grabs it from my hand, twists the cap off, and chucks the cap into the sink. I lean against the counter and take him in. He’s wearing a black suit, a light grey dress shirt the color of some of the swirl in his eyes right now. Shiny black shoes. He’s clean shaven, no five o’clock shadow, and he smells amazing. I want to throw myself at him. Instead, I reach for a bottle of wine in the fridge.
“You’re too young to drink,” he murmurs and takes a swig of his beer.
“Depends where I live. I’m not too young to drink at home in Mexico.”
“You’re too young to drink here,” he says.
“I’m too young for a lot of things,” I tease, and fetch a glass from the cupboard. I’m shaky and I know he sees it. It’s so odd to be in his presence here in Ang and Dario’s apartment.
“Does Dario know you’re here?” I ask, conversationally. He comes over and takes the wine opener from me and opens the bottle and then pours me a glass.
He shakes his head, “I don’t answer to Dario.”
I shrug and quip, “It’s only his apartment.”
“But you answer to me.” He eyes me up and down.
“Do I have something to answer for?” I ask.
“Do you?”
“There’s accusation all over your face,” I point out and sip the wine.
Truth be told, I don’t usually drink wine. I don’t really like it. It makes me think of old socks and I have a vision of Lucy and Ethel from I Love Lucy squishing grapes with their bare feet, which doesn’t help. But I sip it anyway.
He flexes his jaw muscles and continues to glare at me.
I turn away and stir the sauce on the stove and then I turn around again to look at him. I’ve caught him staring at my ass. I guess it must be odd for him to see me in jeans, too.
I’m wearing very skinny black jeans. My feet are bare, but I’ve got pale pink nail polish on my fingernails and my toenails. I’m wearing a baby pink cashmere sweater that is slightly off the shoulder with a whole lot of back cleavage, but I’ve got a black lacy racerback bralette underneath. I’m wearing pink lipstick and black eyeliner.
“Do you like what you see, Alessandro? Or should I call you Lex?” I grab the wineglass for more liquid courage.
He smiles but it’s a little bit dangerous-looking and his eyes have gone even darker.
“I saw that name on your login and twice heard Dario talking to someone on the phone on hands-free called Zack and they referred to you as Lex. Dr. Jimena said it’s your nickname?”
“You can call me baby.” He’s suddenly got me pinned against the counter with his body. He takes my wine and sets it beside me. His hands go to my hips, his mouth is now barely an inch from mine, “Or master. Or whatever you think I am to you. What do you wanna call me?”
“My fiancé?” I ask, hopefully.
He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulls out a little blue box.
“Speaking of which.” He pops the ring box open and my heart misses a beat.
It’s a square diamond on a platinum (I think) band. It’s big. Not ostentatious or gaudy, but it’s gonna draw attention. It’s gonna scream at anyone looking that ‘she’s engaged’. He slips it on my finger and then backs away.
“Wow.” I say, looking at it. It’s breathtaking. “I love it. Thank you.”
He’s just staring at me, jaw ticking, almost like a ticking time bomb.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I tell him, hoping to alter his mood.
He flinches.
“Have you missed me, Lex?”
He flexes his jaw.
I scrunch up my nose.
“Lex,” I try again and then I shake my head. “I don’t think Lex suits you. You’re Alessandro to me.”
There’s weighted silence but there’s this weird look on his face and I feel a stab of unease.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“No,” he says simply.
But, it’s not something simple. I can tell.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says.
“What?” I want to reach for him. I can tell by looking at him that it’s even more of a bad idea than usual.
He stares at me a long moment.
“Finish making that food for me.”
“That’s something I can do,” I say with a giggle, but he moves in again.
“And then tell me you know who owns you. Tell me you aren’t remotely interested in your bodyguard, a guy who wants you.”
My smile vanishes. “He doesn’t. And I’m not. Not remotely.”
“He does. But maybe it’ll make him that much more protective. So long as he doesn’t act on it. If he so much as hints that he’s gonna lay a finger on you, you open and push that locket.”
I swallow. “He wouldn’t.”
“He better not. I’ll be communicating that to him before I go.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“It is.”
“He saw me in my bra and he didn’t even…like…”
Oh shit. Immediately, I can tell this was the wrong thing to say. He’s on the move, about to go somewhere, likely to hurt Will.
I grab his arm. He glares at me, at my hand on his arm, like I have a whole lot of nerve grabbing him like that.
“A fire alarm went off while I was in a changing room in a store. He came in, didn’t even look at me, threw my coat over me and rushed me to safety.”
He stops and takes a breath.
“He doesn’t touch you. Ever.”
I shake my head.
“You don’t ever forget who owns you, you understand me?” He backs me up against the wall. I’m looking up at him and my heart is racing.
“I couldn’t if I tried.”
“Don’t try.”
I nod.
He stares at me.
“When will we go?” I ask.
“I’ll leave in the morning.”
My heart leaps with joy. He sees my elation.
I smile. “Are you taking me with you?”
“No,” he says.
My expression drops.
“Spaghetti.” He jerks his chin toward the stove.
The water isn’t even close to bubbling. I move to it and add the sea salt and the olive oil and he sits at the bar and takes a long draw on his beer bottle, watching as I get the garlic bread ready.
It’s all so strange. Him. Here. Jealous. Possessive. He says he’s not taking me, but somehow, I still feel hopeful about us.
Something is going down in Mexico that he wants to protect me from. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s what I tell myself at night when I’m alone in bed wishing he were with me or at least watching over me. I kissed the bathroom mirror the first few nights I was here, looking into it, not like I was looking at me, but looking through it, to him watching me on the other side. And it has been killing me that he’s not actually on the other side.
But, he’s here now.
I busy myself, not looking at him, yet feeling his eyes follow me.
Is he going to do sexual things to me tonight?
My cell phone rings while I’m putting the pasta into the water. It stops my chain of thought, as he grabs it.
“The fuck is Luc?”
He’s saying it like ‘Luke’.
“Luciana,” I say, “Dario’s youngest sister.”
He passes it to me and I answer it.
Angie had given me that phone, trying to integrate me back into society.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, chickie. What’s up?” she greets.
He shakes his head at me and I know instantly that he doesn’t want me to tell anyone he’s here.
“Not much,” I fib. “How ‘bout you?”
“Was gonna see if you wanted to come over? Ed’s gotta work and I figured we could have a girlie night in. Lisa’s coming. Tess is busy, but Bianca’s comin’. Tia, too. My kids are goin’ to bed in another hour and baby Nicky has slept through the night the last three nights so touch wood he’ll do it again. We’re gonna watch Bad Moms, eat junk food and do facials and other spa treatments. I went crazy at Sephora today and got us all sorts of fun stuff. Foot wraps, pore strips, charcoal face masks. You in? Nino can come get you when he drops Bee off.”
Nino is Bianca the hairdresser’s husband. “Oh. I, uh… I’m gonna have to skip it.”
“Why? Angel and Dare are out for the night. Why sit there alone? Well, I know you’ve got Willie there, but still. Come over! We’ll give him a mani-pedi and take pics of him with mud masks on.”
She’s giggling. Poor Will has gotten stuck with a bunch of girls a few times now.
“I’ve kind of got a headache, Luc. I’m just gonna grab a bubble bath and crash early.”
“Oh no. What about dinner? Want me to get Ed to send some food over?”
Ed’s her hubby and he’s the chef at their family restaurant where we had the paint night. The food is amazing.
“I’m about to eat, no worries.” Alessandro points at the stove just as starchy water bubbles over, making a mess. “Oops, spaghetti water bubblin’ over. Gotta go, Luc. Thanks for the offer. Another time?”
“Sure Holly. Feel better.”
“Thanks. An early night should do it. Bye!” I end the call and start dealing with the pasta.
“Busy social life,” he remarks.
“They’re all trying to keep me busy. I was kind of depressed for the first bit after I got here.” I shrug.
He watches me deal with the mess and says nothing until the food is served up and I’m sitting beside him.
“This would’ve been cozy for you and the kid.”
“We were just hanging out and watching movies. He’s only here because you want me watched.”
He doesn’t reply.
“Do you wanna watch a movie?” I try
He shakes his head, “No.”
“Okay, well, I hope you enjoy it. I had hoped to fine tune it and get it perfect for you but it is what it is. I’m happy you’re here.” I smile and lift the parmesan cheese and sprinkle a lot on my plate and pass it to him.
“Want spaghetti with your cheese?” he teases. He’s not smiling but his eyes are sort of smiling.
I smile and start twisting the pepper grinder.
He doesn’t smile back, but he isn’t scowling, either, so that’s something, at least.
“I take that back. Want any spaghetti with your cheese and pepper?”
I giggle and stick my tongue out at him.
His eyes flash with something that almost looks playful. I watch him take his first bite.
He doesn’t say anything. I take my first bite.
Hm. Pretty good.
He chews, swallows, and takes another bite.
I’m watching him eat. His eyes sweep over me.
“Is it okay?” I finally ask, “The meatballs are made from scratch.”
He doesn’t answer me. He keeps eating. He’s focused on his plate until it’s empty. Not a strand of spaghetti remains.
“Do you want some more?” I ask, jokingly, I’ve barely eaten half of mine.
He jerks his chin up.
He does. He wants more.
I happily pile more spaghetti and meatballs onto his plate and pass it to him. He stares at it a second, goes back to the pot and spoons out another big pile of meatballs on top then sits back down beside me.
And I feel joy bubble up when I watch him devour every single meatball and most of the spaghetti, while I clean up.
When he’s done, I reach for his plate and rinse it and put it in the dishwasher.
“Esmerelda shoot her mouth off? What else she tell you?” he asks, snappily.
I shake my head, “About that being your favorite? No. No one tells me about you. I just… I figured it out.”
“How?” He looks skeptical.
“Every time I had it for dinner I’d see you. Like you always asked for it when you got back from being away from home.”
“So, Sherlock, where’s your room?” he asks, looking annoyed.
I point. He grabs my hand and heads down the hallway to the guest room. Dario had transformed it from an office into a bedroom for me.
My heart starts racing.
It has a double bedroom set in dark wood with a pink and purple bedding set. Lots of pillows. Dare teased that it looked like the Easter Bunny decorated it.
There’s a chair in the corner that’s piled with bags of my recent purchases that I haven’t gotten around to putting away yet. Dario had had a desk, futon, some old arcade games, and his Bowflex in here, but he moved the office furniture to the far end of the family room and put the Bowflex in his and Angie’s room. He put the arcade games in storage and the futon by the trash bin outside, which I thought was silly, since it seemed like a good piece of furniture and Will could’ve slept on it in the far corner by the desk. My sister’s husband said he hated it.
“I don’t hate that,” Angie had looked kind of sad.
He’d looked at her quizzically and then got a remorseful look on his face and he took her into his arms and was whispering something obviously sweet that made her melt.
She later told me they’d spent their first night “together” on that futon.
***
Alessandro takes his jacket off and then throws himself onto my bed. I’m just standing there while he does this. He puts his hands behind his head. I sit on the edge of the bed. I’m holding my own hand, fingers outstretched, looking at my engagement ring.
He catches my hand, gives it a tug, and I fall onto him.
I smile big and move in to curl up with my head on his shoulder. My heart is racing and I’m filled with excitement.
He yawns.
I hesitantly reach and put my hand on his belly, which still feels pretty rock hard despite the fact it has a whole lot of pasta in it.
He lies there, not reacting. His eyes are closed. My hand moves a little on his belly and I nuzzle in, my head finding a comfy place on his shoulder. He’s asleep.
And I lie there for what feels like hours thinking about him, about us, about what our future could possibly be…before I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
***
It’s pitch black and my jeans are being pulled off me. I startle.
“Hey.” It’s him. “It’s me.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he returns and it’s dark but it’s like there’s a smile in his voice. I’m suddenly wide awake and wishing it weren’t too dark to see it.
I glance at the digital clock radio glowing beside my bed and it’s 2:44 AM. We’ve slept for hours. But evidently, he’s not sleepy right now.
“Are we over our carb coma?” I ask with a chuckle.
My sweater and bra go up at the same time, over my head.
His mouth is on one nipple, he’s twisting the other.
My back arches and I grab his head with both hands.
His hand goes into my panties and his fingers hit right where I need them. He circles and circles, while drawing my nipple into his mouth, sucking, and then releasing. Repeating. He then bites it a little and I squeal and grab his hair tight with both hands. It’s super soft.
I spread my legs wider. The sensations are climbing. It’s going to hit me huge like a huge wave crashing over me.
He stops. His mouth lets go of my breast and his hand stills, though it’s still against me.
“You don’t forget who this belongs to,” he says and gives it a squeeze.
“Never,” I vow.
“You touch yourself, making yourself come these past weeks?”
“No,” I pant.
“No?”
“I… I can’t.” I’m desperate for him to go back to what he was doing. I’m squirming.
“No?” his voice is soft. I want him to start moving his fingers again. He’s still, cupping me possessively. His mouth moves to my ear, “Why?”
“I’d see you. In my mind, I mean. I’d wish you were with me, or at least watching me. I know you’re not so I’ve had no desire. No libido at all.”
He kisses my earlobe. “Hold my cock.” He’s on his side. I reach down and he’s naked. I guess he must’ve shed his clothing before he woke me.
“Stroke,” he whispers.
I’ve got him in my hand. It’s big. It’s smooth and warm. It’s rock hard, too. I squeeze and move my hand up and down and then I caress the tip with my thumb.
“You done this before?” he quizzes me and he sounds angry.
“No, why?”
“You’re touching me like you’ve done this before.”
“I watched you. The first time you… came on me. I’m just doing what you were doing. Is this okay?”
He doesn’t answer me. His hand starts to move again, rewardingly on me, and I drop my knees and put the soles of my feet together.
“Good girl,” he tells me and I melt.
He must feel it because his voice is rough, “You gonna be my good girl?”
“Yes. Always,” I whisper and there are goosebumps all over me. My nipples suddenly feel like they could cut glass.
He stops again.
I whimper.
He kisses me.
I run my free hand up his back, feeling the strength of him, feeling his silky skin. I try to match his pace with my right hand on his cock.
He moans into my mouth in one beat, the next beat, I say “I love you,” in a whisper. He freezes, and then the beat after that, he breaks away.
“Arms over your head,” he snaps.
I’m temporarily frozen, speechless. It’s as if he decided he doesn’t like how this is going and is changing the mood.
I obey, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
He rises, then he’s straddling my face and I gasp as my hair is yanked back and his cock enters my mouth fast, deep. Too fast. Too deep.
“You love belonging to me,” he grunts, “Don’t you?”
I nod a little but there’s not much room to move as he’s essentially sitting on my chest.
He leans and flicks the lamp on. I look up. Wow. What a view.
“I wanna see you while I fuck your face. “No fucking body else---” he starts, through gritted teeth, and then he throws his head back and thrusts into my mouth. I choke and gag. He fists the base of his cock and keeps going.
I grab his hips and try to pull him back out of reflex.
I choke again.
He throws his head back and my eyes rove over the corded muscles of his body, his throat. And down here, under him like this? It’s sexy as can be. But, he needs to slow it down a little so I can breathe.
I put my hands to his torso and it’s like it breaks a spell. He grabs my wrists, pins them over my head, and starts going faster, deeper. I’m choking on it and it seems to spur him on to go harder and faster.
My hands are pinned hard, my wrists are being held way too tight. It feels like he’s gonna snap the bones in them. I kick a little bit, struggling for air and he laughs an evil-sounding laugh and then growls at me as he’s thrusting into my face with a ‘take that’ lip curl. He releases one wrist and pinches my nose for a second and glares in my eyes and I’m going dizzy, struggling to breathe.
Tears start flowing down my face. The crying kind, the choking kind, too, and I’m not sure if he’s gonna suffocate me.
He’s so mad at me. Why is he so mad at me?
Is it because he was getting lost in the moment, the sweet, the emotional? And I broke the spell with my words of love. And he wants me to hate him as much as he wants to own me for some odd reason, so now he’s trying to face-fuck the lovesick schoolgirl stars right out of my eyes?
He stills with a hiss and I gurgle on the liquid that’s suddenly in my mouth. Suddenly my mascara and spit are mixed with the come that’s dribbling down my chin.
He quickly flips me over and slaps my ass really hard.
I’m bawling. I’m bawling and gasping for air and I feel like my heart is about to tear out of my chest.
I feel it coming up, I’m going to vomit. I jump up and run out of the room. I hear him grunt, “Yo, the fuck back here…” and he’s quickly on my heels, but I’m in the bathroom, hurling the dinner I lovingly made tonight, straight into the toilet.
I’m vaguely aware of his footsteps as he leaves me alone in there. When I’m done, I grab a washcloth and put it to my mouth. I go weak in the knees and wind up in a ball on the fluffy bathroom mat. I’m crying. I’m sobbing. I’m hiccupping and the shudders are wracking my body.
After a long time, he comes back. I’m just lying there curled up in a ball, the crying over, but the shuddering not yet letting up.
He leans down and I jolt, cowering, covering my face with my hands that are still gripping the washcloth.
I’m trembling so hard it feels like I have zero control over my body, almost like I’m having a seizure.
He’s giving me a look, this look I don’t know how to decipher. Guilt? Regret? I don’t know for sure. Probably not. And I don’t care. I want him to go away.
He’s lifting me. He’s in his underwear, walking down the hall, cradling me close to his chest. His lips touch the top of my head and it physically hurts me. I choke on a sob. He puts me in the bed, gets in beside me, and throws the blankets over us.
“Still love me?” he whispers in my ear. Like it’s a joke. A big fat fucking joke. I might actually hate him now.
I curl the other way. He yanks me back. His hand is tangled in my hair holding the back of my head to his chest.
He pulls hard, so that I have no option other than to look up at his face.
“That’s a taste of what you’ll get when I finally take you home. Enjoy your time out in the wild, little flower. When I bring you back, you’ll miss these days. Because that, what we just did? That’ll be your life. Tears. Fear. Hate. Struggling for breath. You’ll come to hate me so much that you’ll forget you ever had hope for me.”
I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.
“But, little flower, you’re so beautiful when you cry.” He kisses my forehead. And then he keeps me there, holding me close, as if he loves me, and it’s dawn before my eyes droop. I don’t know if he slept or if he was awake. I was in some sort of catatonic state, I think.
I wake up alone. Alone and confused. And with this immense sadness that is making my chest feel hollow.
***
I poke my head out the door toward the living room. Will is sitting on the sofa, watching television. His eyes meet mine. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t look happy. In fact, I haven’t yet seen him look so opposite-of-happy before. He gives me a business-like nod. I back into my room and go back to the bed.
Clearly, my fiancé’d had a word with him. And then he left.
I look around. No note. No sign he’s been here. Unless you count the big diamond on my finger.
A little while later, as I’m in bed, a pillow over my head, my eyes sticky dry and undoubtedly red. I hear Dario and my sister come into the apartment. Dario and Will are talking. And then I hear Dario yelling at Will.
“You should’ve called me anyway. What if he’d taken off with her?”
I move to the door and open it a crack. I hear Will sounding defensive.
“Dare, man. Who do I work for? You or him? You both told me it was him and then he gives me orders so I follow them and now I’m in hot water with you? The guy put a fuckin’ knife to my throat this morning ‘cuz he didn’t like how his spies showed him pics of how she smiles at me. The money is awesome and she’s a sweet girl that’s fun to hang with while I keep her safe and report her actions back to him, but I ain’t putting my life on the line for any price, man. This shit…working with you and your brother, all I’ve seen the last few months? Really not sure I’m cut out for it…”
Yikes.
I’m chewing my lip. They see me. They stop arguing. They leave the apartment together and Angie is standing at the kitchen island looking at me with worry etched into her features. I wave at her, using every ounce of strength in me to smile.
“Mornin’. Have fun last night?”
She opens her mouth, about to start firing questions at me.
“Nature calls,” I sing out and head to the bathroom down the hall from my room. When I come out of the bathroom after my shower, I see she’s put a cup of coffee on my dresser with a buttered blueberry muffin. It’s like she knows I need space and she’s, thankfully, giving it to me.
I successfully avoid my sister for the next few hours until the mid-afternoon when Dario knocks on my bedroom door.
Dario starts to tell me that Will had something come up and he couldn’t be my bodyguard any longer. Dario would find someone else.
As he’s talking, Angie comes in, listening to him talk to me about Will, and then she elbows him with a pointed look.
“Everything okay last night?” Dario switches the direction of the conversation, obviously with the elbow as his cue.
I nod, “Yeah, perfect.”
“Lex spent the night?”
I nod again.
“Holl… an engagement ring?” Angie asks, wide-eyed.
I make myself smile, “Yep. We’re official.”
She grabs my hand and looks up at me, stunned. I hide a wince. My wrists are both bruised. I have long sleeves on and I move closer so that her yanking my hand hopefully doesn’t make my sleeve ride up.
I can’t read Dario very well. He’s got his eyebrows up.
I fake my joy. I don’t feel joy. I felt so sad and alone, more sad and alone than I’ve felt in a very long time.
“Maid of honor duty?” I ask with a big smile.
“Wait… So, he came, got engaged to you, but left. After putting a knife to Will’s throat? Why? What’s going on? You’ve been in the dumps for a month and he shows up and now it’s just fine and dandy?”
“Yeah. Yep. It is,” I tell her, “He needed time to figure some things out and he did, so, yeah. Fine and dandy.”
Why am I lying? I can’t tell them what happened. I can’t put Dario in a state of mind that might mean danger for him. I don’t know enough to know who is the bigger badass but I’ve seen where we live and what’s around us and compared to Alessandro’s compound and the stuff I’ve seen down there? To me, there’s no doubt in my mind that I do not want to give Dario any reason to go head to head with Alessandro. I’m not putting my sister in danger of losing her husband. Because I suspect Alessandro wouldn’t hesitate in hurting him.
“Then why did he leave you here? And why did he dip in and out like that, gone in twelve hours?”
“None of your business,” I say, mirroring her body language, which is arms crossed, eyebrows all knitted together. “If you can’t handle me being here and not knowing every damn thing about why, then maybe Dario should call him to come pick me up.”
She tries to ask more questions. I feign a headache and they leave me be.
And then I get a real headache. And my heart aches, too.