I thought Vitelli was behind Natalie’s kidnapping. Either the old man or his sons. But it’s not them. Too fucking obvious and they’re not that stupid. The DeMarco family? They’ve essentially been castrated. Lucia DeMarco’s father being made to watch what he watched, as sick as it was, it was effective. So who the fuck else would dare?

My father was outraged. Roman immediately started to list names. Make calls. But it’s fucking killing me not to know. Not to wrap my hands around the throat of whoever ordered her kidnapping. To squeeze. To watch him gasp his last breath when I choke the life out of him with my bare hands.

I’m parked in my usual space at the garage and see Ricco sitting in the café at the end of her street. He can see her house and keep warm—weather’s been icy this last week. I give him a nod as I walk past. The house is dark but for her bedroom window. I knock and slide my key in at the same time. She’s been avoiding me but that’s changing tonight. I want her to move into my house. I don’t want her here on her own anymore. And I need to get her to talk about what happened. To tell it to me so she can get rid of it. So she can stop seeing it because I know she does every time she closes her eyes. She has to tell it to me so she can stop being afraid.

The TV’s on upstairs. Not even Pepper comes to me, which is strange. But maybe she’s upstairs with Natalie. I take off my coat and head up.

I call out. When she doesn’t answer, I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. But when I get to her bedroom, it’s empty. Her bed is unmade but that’s not unusual for her. The TV’s on, but she’s not here. I switch it off and the house is plunged into utter silence.

“Nat?” I call out, taking my cell phone from my pocket and dialing her number as I peek into the other bedroom.

I hear her phone ring nearby and red flags go up.

The sound is from back in her bedroom and it’s on the nightstand, a book lying face down on top of it.

“Fuck!”

I disconnect and call Ricco. Tell him to get his ass over here now. I walk into the bathroom, see her makeup on the counter, the tube of mascara still open lying in the sink like she just walked away in the middle of putting some on. That’s when I notice the box in the trash can.

“Boss,” Ricco’s boots are heavy on the stairs.

I reach into the bin and take out the box. An unopened pregnancy test falls out. Falls next to the used one. My heart thuds against my chest and I reach in and pick it up. See the two little pink lines. Look at the box in my other hand to confirm what it means.

“I didn’t see her leave,” Ricco starts. “Fuck. I’ve been watching the front door all fucking day! She ran to the drug store, came back with a full bag and the TV went on. I figured she was staying in.”

I should have had Eric on her. Not this idiot.

But my mind is on what I’m holding. My eyes locked on those stripes. Pink. Delicate. Vulnerable.

I stick it into my pocket and turn to Ricco. “Where’s the dog?”

“Not here.”

“Why are you alone? Where’s the man I put with you?”

Ricco shakes his head, shift his gaze. “He had something come up.”

“Fuck that something. I’m fucking paying you imbeciles. Get his ass back here now. Get Eric here. Get a fucking army.”

I shove past him, down the stairs. He was watching the front door, which means she must have gone out the back.

The pregnancy test is burning a hole in my pocket as I step out the back door and into her tiny garden. I go to the only door in the fence, open it, hear the startled yelp of an old woman in the doorway of the house next door as a motion detector shines a light on me.

I stop, put my hands up, try to smile. Pepper gives a bark but comes to me. She was in the opposite corner of the garden doing her business. The woman exhales.

“Hey Pepper,” I say, making a show of crouching down to pat the old dog. Natalie wasn’t taken. She left. I need to find out where she went.

“Who’s there?” the old woman asks.

I look up at her. She’s wearing a long nightgown and a heavy, ragged sweater on top.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am. I’m Natalie’s friend. I wanted to drop some of her schoolwork off, but she wasn’t home. She must have forgotten I was coming.”

“Oh, that’s not like her. She’s not here. Gone for the weekend. Maybe longer. She’s sweet to still visit her parents.”

“That’s right. She mentioned she’d go see them. Shoot. I need to get the books I borrowed back to her. She needs them for a test.”

“They live clear out in Asbury Park, honey. Best to leave it all for her for when she’s back.”

“I don’t mind driving out there. You want me to take Pepper with me?”

“Oh, no. Pepper hates long drives.”

“I can’t remember the exact address of her parents’ house. You don’t happen to have it? I can call Natalie.” I take out my phone, start to press some numbers.

“I have it right here. Give me one minute.”

A moment later, I have Natalie’s parents’ address and am driving to Asbury Park.

She left. She clearly wanted to get away from me, but that wasn’t happening before I found out she was pregnant and it’s not happening now.

The sleepy town is dark when I arrive. I wonder how many residents leave in the winter. This close to the water and the weather can be icy. I do like it here though. It’s charming and the quiet is so opposite my life.

Natalie’s parents live on a cul-de-sac. Street lights give a dim glow to the otherwise pitch-black night. I park the car on the curb in front of her parents’ house. All the houses, including this one, are perfectly dark. I get out of the car and walk to the front door of the quaint yellow house, realizing how late it is as I climb the porch steps to ring the doorbell. But nothing happens when I push the button. Not a sound. I wonder if it’s broken.

I try the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, and it is.

Glancing around, I go down the porch steps and head around back. The backyard isn’t fenced off and it’s sandy back here. I can hear waves breaking on the beach and turn my collar up against the bitter wind.

Three steps lead up to the kitchen door. I knock on the window but no one’s inside. It’s dark. I jiggle the doorknob and it’s locked. I don’t want to break in, but seeing no alternative because I’m not about to go searching under freaking pots of plants for a spare key, I do. With my elbow, I bust the glass in one of the four panes, hear the clinking of it as it drops to the kitchen floor. I reach in, twist my arm to find the lock, turn it. I open the door and step over the glass and into the house.

No one seems to have heard my entrance. I make my way from the small but cozy kitchen to the dining room. I peek into the empty living room and turn and head up the stairs. They’re wooden and I’m careful so they don’t creak heavily. Four doors are closed on the landing. I open the first one to peek inside. It’s the master bedroom and, to my surprise, it’s empty. I push the door wider, confused. The curtains are open, the bed stripped bare, two pillows and a thick comforter folded neatly on top.

I step back out into the hallway to try the other door. It’s a bathroom. Drops of water cling to the rim of the pedestal sink and a towel lies askew on the rack. A toothbrush sits on the glass shelf just below the mirror. Natalie’s.

A sense of relief washes over me when I see it.

She’s here.

I step back into the hallway and try the next door which is the linen closet. I pause at the final door before opening it quietly, see the shadow of a form lying in the bed, back to me. The curtain is closed but there’s just enough light coming in from the split between the panels that I can make out her dark hair. I push the door wide, not caring to muffle the creak, and stand there, watch her startle awake, turn. Watch her face as she sits up, gasps, and I’m angry. So angry that I let her be afraid for a minute because she can’t see my face. It’s too dark where I’m standing. The pregnancy test weights heavy in my pocket and I’m fucking furious that she left, walked away, now. After everything.

I switch on the light and she blinks at the sudden brightness. The blue bruise on her temple sends a pang of guilt through me but the burn of anger dissipates that.

“Sergio.”

Her black eyes are huge, her face pale, gaunt almost. Darkness shadows the skin around her eyes.

I step inside. Her breathing is labored as she watches me approach.

“You left,” I say.

“What?”

I reach into my pocket. Take out the test. She watches me lay it on the nightstand before I take off my coat.

“You left,” I repeat.

She blinks up at me. “I—”

“Mine. No matter what. Remember?”

She’s silent. I’m angry at her for not talking to me, for shutting me out. For leaving. For hiding the fact that she’s pregnant.

For refusing to wait in the car that night.

For wanting to see.

To see me like that.

Ruthless.

Brutal.

Deadly.

I’m pissed at myself for letting her. I should have made her leave.

“I shouldn’t have let you watch.” I pull my sweater over my head, toss it aside. I don’t take my eyes off her. I step out of my shoes, go closer to the bed. Rip the blankets away.

“Sergio—”

“That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let you see.”

I look her over. She’s wearing a tank top and panties. I set a knee on the bed, grip the collar of the tank. Rip it down the center.

She lets out a surprised scream.

“I shouldn’t have stayed away. Hell, I never should have let you leave my father’s house.”

She’s covering her breasts. My gaze slides down to her belly, pauses there before moving to her panties.

I shift my gaze back to hers. Push her backward on the bed.

She doesn’t resist. Not then and not when I take her wrists and stretch her arms to either side of the bed and wrap her hands around the rungs of the headboard.

“Keep them there,” I tell her.

I release her wrists. Look at her. It’s like she’s splayed out on the cross. Like a sacrifice. Like my sacrifice.

But that’s not what this is. I’m not here to make an offering.

I undo my belt. “I should whip your ass. I would. You fucking deserve it.”

She’s watching me, mouth open, eyes like saucers. She swallows.

I rip her panties off her, look at her pussy. It’s mine too. She doesn’t understand that yet, though. I thought she did, but I was wrong. I hook two fingers inside her cunt.

“You’re hurting me,” she squeaks.

“Good.”

“Sergio—”

“Who do you belong to?”

She squirms, grips my arm to pull me off.

With my free hand, I take her wrist and draw it back out to the headboard. “I told you to fucking keep your hands here. Do I need to tie you down?”

She shakes her head.

“Grip it,” I say when she hasn’t yet.

She obeys, silent but for her eyes. They betray her fear. But something else too. She does know. She does understand. She just can’t accept it yet. I have to make her accept the fact that she no longer belongs to herself but to me.

“If you let go, I swear to God I will take my belt to your ass.”

My face is stone as I undo my pants, push them and my briefs down far enough to free my cock.

She shifts her gaze to the stick I laid on the nightstand earlier.

I take hold of her ankles and spread her legs wide. Bend her knees and push them up. I’ve got her attention again and when I do, I look down at her cunt, the lips spread open, pink and gleaming.

My fingers dig into her legs and when she makes a sound, I don’t soften my hold. I intend to hurt. To punish. I do it when I drive into her too. She’s not ready for me but I don’t care.

“Look at me.”

She makes a sound, her forehead is creased when her eyes meet mine.

“You don’t get to fucking leave. You don’t get to walk away. We established that.”

I draw out and thrust hard, slap her ass when I do. The sound of flesh hurting flesh bounces off the walls.

She grunts. I pull back, twist her body a little, slap her ass again. Twice. Harder. Before I drive into her. She’s turned her head away, is squeezing her eyes shut.

With my cock buried inside her, I grip her jaw, turn her to face me. “Open your fucking eyes.”

She does. A tear slides from the corner of one eye.

“What did I say to you that night at my father’s house? What did I tell you?”

“Stop.”

“No. That’s not it. What did I fucking tell you?”

Tears are coming from both eyes now.

I watch her cry. She’s so fucking pretty when she cries. I can’t stop looking at her. It’s sick, I know, but it’s like her fucking tears mesmerize me. I’m deep inside her and it’s warm and wet and I slide my hands up over her arms and close my hands over hers. She’s still gripping the headboard like I told her to. I pry them off, interlace my fingers with hers.

“Natalie. What did I tell you?”

“I’m yours.”

“That’s right. Mine.” It’s a savage sound. Wild and untamed. “Always. No matter what.”

Our eyes are locked and I thrust twice more and she hasn’t come yet and I don’t give a fuck because that’s not what this is about. I bury myself inside her and throb and empty and fill her up and she’s so fucking warm, all I can do is lose myself there for just a minute. In her eyes. In her cunt. In her.