I stiffen as the mattress shifts under his weight. My heart pounds against my sternum as I wait for him to reach for me.
He doesn’t.
Ten minutes tick by. Fifteen. Twenty.
“Relax, mia caramellina. I won’t jump you and can’t sleep with you radiating tension beside me, so stop worrying and just go to sleep. Capisci?”
I bite back my angry retort and uncurl my fists.
I’d like to see him fall asleep while he’s trussed up and vulnerable with someone who’s twice his size lying beside him.
“My arms hurt,” I say.
It’s not a lie, but it isn’t true either. With the rope preventing me from lowering my elbows to my side, my shoulder bears the weight of my upper body, making me uncomfortable enough to complain. Plus, if I’m not attached to the headboard, maybe I can free my ankles and get out of here while he sleeps.
He sighs, unties the rope, and lies back down without a word. My heart pounds against my sternum. There’s no way he isn’t aware I might try to escape, but he acts as though there’s no chance I can sneak away.
He holds full power over my future, but I can’t figure him out. Infuriating one second, cruel the next, then sweet and caring out of nowhere. I don’t know what he’ll do next, and that terrifies me.
Even now, with him prone beside me, I should hate him for all he’s done to me, and I do—mostly—but part of me can’t. He’s had so many opportunities to rape, beat, and break me, but he hasn’t.
I can’t fool myself into believing he’s a good man, but I suppose he has his own set of morals. Where those boundaries lie, I’m not sure, but I can’t lump him in with the slimy mafia man from last night or the don my father wanted me to marry.
One by one, I force my muscles to relax.
My harrowing ordeal—and the long shift I worked before he kidnapped me—steal my resolve, and I fall into an exhausted sleep.
Warmth wraps around me. I snuggle against it, annoyed when my bound hands prevent me from reaching behind me to pull the heater closer, but darkness steals me away, and I don’t care so long as the furnace pressing against my back doesn’t go away. It feels so good.
I wake in slow increments. Lust pulses in my veins. Fabric covers my eyes. Something heavy drapes across my side.
Sparks shoot from my nipple to my clit. I shift, seeking just a little more friction.
I snap awake and freeze in horror.
My kidnapper lies with his front pressed against my back and spooning me from behind, one hand cupping my sex while the other kneads my breast. He murmurs nonsensical words into my hair and tilts his hips.
He’s huge everywhere. His long, thick cock grinds against my lower back. My head pounds in fear even as wicked interest fans the flames of my desire.
Taking a dick that big would hurt. My masochistic body inches closer to short-circuiting. I’ve watched porn and know it’s possible for a woman to accept more than what he’s packing, but I’m not a porn star. Far from it.
My clit throbs as his fingertip inches deeper between my legs. He’s too close. Another millimeter and I’ll combust.
Humiliation barrels through me as he pinches my hard nipple between his forefinger and thumb.
His murmur and sensual movements lack his normal coordination, and I clench my fists into the sheets when I realize he’s still asleep.
He’s touching me while dreaming of someone else. It’s insulting.
Liquid desire seeps from my pussy and dampens my panties.
Madness roars through me, and I consider tilting my hips and coming all over his hand but using him as an oversized sex toy won’t spite him. It will only encourage him.
I don’t want to orgasm. Not with him. Not like this.
“Mia caramellina. So sweet.”
His low, gravelly voice almost tips me over the edge, but I stave it off by sheer force of will when I realize he hasn’t woken up.
Is he thinking of me or some past lover? How many other women has he called mia caramellina?
Jealousy tightens a knot around my spine.
I take a long, measured inhale and tip dangerously closer to an orgasm as his clean scent fills my nostrils. My mouth waters. He flexes his fingers.
I yank his hand out from between my legs and bring my knees up, but with his other arm under my torso, the movement traps his hand on my breast.
He stiffens as awareness snaps through him. My heart pounds with a mixture of fear, frustration, and anger. The change in his countenance is eerie.
With agonizing slowness, he opens his hand, releasing my breast, but my knees prevent him from pulling away.
My arms burn as I hold his wrist as far away from me as possible. His cock pulses against my back.
He takes a deep breath, shifting us both as his chest expands, and shocks the shit out of me with the honesty in his sleep-roughened words.
“I’m sorry, mia caramellina. Let me go. I’ll stop.”
I swallow and peel my fingers off his wrist. A bit of guilt wriggles into my chest when the bandage on his palm brushes against my arm, but I ignore it. I was only protecting myself. I’d bite him again in a heartbeat.
He slips his arm out from under me and rolls off the bed with a slight grunt of pain. My attention piques.
He’s hurt from more than my teeth. The simple fabric bandage on his palm wouldn’t need medical tape or scissors.
My bladder complains as he turns on the sink in the bathroom. I grit my teeth and ignore the arousal coating my folds.
He doesn’t make me ask to relieve myself, finishing his own quick morning routine before carrying me to the toilet. I swallow my pride and request a second wad of toilet paper, my arousal difficult to wipe away.
He doesn’t comment, just hands me more.
I can’t reconcile him with the monster who grabbed me in the streets, but maybe he’ll keep his word and let me go if I never see his face.
After feeding me another cup of instant ramen—without incident this time—he attaches my wrists to the headboard with less slack than last time and moves through the room. Fear bands around my chest as I realize he’s preparing to leave.
My mind races for a way out. I can’t lie here all day. I’ll go insane.
My heart sinks. No one is looking for me yet. Katherine left with her college buddies for an extended weekend trip, and I’m off work for four days.
“I still haven’t seen your face. You can let me go.”
With a sense of finality, he zips a bag closed and stalks toward the door.
“Wait! If I don’t show up for my shift, my work will—”
“I checked your schedule. You don’t clock in until noon on Tuesday.”
I tighten my hands into fists and swallow my angry response. I want to ask him how he knows, but I’m too scared of the answer.
“You can’t leave me here like this,” I demand.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“No! Porca puttana, just let me go! I won’t tell anyone. Nothing happened. I got off work, went home, slept in my bed, and woke up alone in my apartment, just like normal,” I insist.
His menacing presence is the only warning he gives me as he crosses the room on silent feet. I jerk when he brushes my hair back from my face.
“You’re gorgeous when you’re furious, mia caramellina, but it’s not safe for you to leave yet.”
“It’s not safe for me to stay here tied up and alone! What if I need the toilet? Or there’s a fire? Or a break in? Or you get hurt and can’t come ba—”
He presses his bandaged hand against my mouth, cutting off my tirade.
“Is mia caramellina worried about me?”
The dark mirth in his tone clenches my insides and fuels the fury in my chest. When he lifts his hand, I can’t hold back.
“Of course, you fucking stronzo. You kidnapped me, dragged me to some unknown location, and now you want to abandon me without the ability to fend for myself, so of course I’m fucking worried. You’re forcing me to rely on you for survival. I’d be stupid to not be worried.”
“Your temper is going to get you into big trouble one day, Mia Rivera.”
Terror straightens my spine. Even lying on my back with my arms above my head, I stiffen at his tone and his pointed use of my fake name. Doubt batters at my insides. Does he know my true identity?
“Anything I should know before I visit your apartment today?”
Ice infects my veins.
Did he just threaten my sister?
What if our meeting wasn’t a coincidence? The emergency room may not be in the nicest area, but the gang activity isn’t as bad as in some neighborhoods. What if he meant for me to stumble on him?
What if the mafia man I treated recognized me and told my father? Or worse, Seppi Capito? What if they sent this man to drag me back to San Francisco and he’s just playing with me before taking me back?
That makes no sense. None of my father’s or Seppi’s men would have hesitated to beat or rape me.
My sister. He’s looking for my sister, not me. I swallow the bile climbing up my throat.
“I have a roommate, but she’s visiting her family this weekend, so my apartment should be empty,” I say.
“You told me you lived alone.”
Fuck.
“She goes to college and works part time. We rarely see each other. She won’t notice that I didn’t come home.”
Which isn’t a lie. We’re both so busy I miss Katherine more than I see her, but the time we spend together is priceless.
Since she hasn’t called me, I know she left on her trip. She’s safely ensconced in her group of college friends.
“What’s the pin for your cell?”
My extremities go cold as I tell him, even though I know there’s no damning information on my phone. I don’t like him invading my life.
He moves away.
“Wait! Don’t—”
I flinch when he splays a hand over my hip, pressing me to the mattress. He cups the side of my face with his massive palm.
“I’m not abandoning you, mia caramellina. Now be a good girl and wait quietly for me. Capisci?”
His goading works. I open my mouth to tell him off only to shriek in fury as he shoves a gag between my teeth and ties it around my face. He catches my legs with ease, thwarting my attempt to kick him, and secures them to the footboard.
My muffled curses only infuriate me further, but not nearly as much as his parting words.
“When I return, we can start where we left off this morning, then you can make as much noise as you want. Capisci, principessa?”
The endearment floods my veins with ice and snaps the growing tendrils of trust between us. I was stupid to let my guard down. No amount of kindness or gentleness will make up for this.
If he walks out that door after tying me down and reawakening long-buried nightmares with nothing to distract me from them, I’ll never forgive him. The next few hours stretching ahead of me may as well be months.
As the door closes behind him, I vow to hate him with every fiber of my being for the rest of my life.
