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Tildi shivered out a sigh. She’d been so cocky. So secure in her intellect and invincibility.

So stupid.

Breezy wouldn’t be put off so easily. “Can’t you at least tell me the alias you’re using? What if something happens? I know you’re not going by Sera anymore.”

She certainly was not. When she’d run away, that name was the first thing she’d scraped off. It was too easy to track. Not that she would have kept it anyway. She hated that name and everything it represented.

It wasn’t that Tildi didn’t trust her sister. She did. But she didn’t trust her parents at all. Her father, the General, as he’d insisted they call him, was a narcissistic asshole who wanted complete control of everyone’s life and future. Including Tildi’s.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Tildi said. “I don’t want you to keep even more secrets from Mom and the General. And frankly, you suck at lying.”

Affronted, her sister huffed. “Do not.”

But she so did.

“Anyway,” Tildi continued, “I’ve got to go. I’m working a party tonight. It’s super fancy. Some Italian highbrow’s birthday bash.”

“I guess if you won’t even tell me your name, it’s out of the question to find out who you’re working for.”

The sad note in her sister’s voice had almost convinced her to spill everything, but it would have only made Breezy worry even more. Tildi worked upscale parties, doling out drinks and hors d'oeuvres, while powerful men talked about things that now fueled Tildi’s nightmares. She’d overheard things she thought only happened in books and movies.

Every second of being at those events dragged on like torture. But contrary to the romance novels she loved, hate didn’t keep her warm, nor did it pay her bills. The tips she earned at the parties helped her scrape by in her studio apartment without having to find a roommate. Some of her friends weren’t so lucky.

And, hopefully, with the amount she had slowly accumulated over the past months, she’d be able to go to a thrift shop and buy a warmer coat. Even growing up in the Tennessee mountains hadn’t prepared her for these brutal northern winters.

Now she’d give anything to have shared more with Breezy that day. Then, the people back home would at least have a place to start looking when they realized she was missing. But the random calls she’d made happened so infrequently it had probably taken months for her sister to realize something was wrong. As it was, all she could do was pray someone from her new life had realized it.

The scraping and clanking of a key in the door’s skeleton lock jerked her back to the present. Wedging into the corner, she ignored the rough stone wall scraping her back and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Holding her breath, she waited.

Please don’t let him get in.

Even as she tossed the words out into the universe, she knew better. Her heart froze, and she lost the battle with her tears as the door banged open. Ottavio Moretti, the underboss in charge of her latest hell, stumbled into the room, locking the door ominously behind him.

Numerous faded prison tattoos riddled his fingers, hands, and neck. They probably covered his entire body, but thankfully, she hadn’t been forced to find out.

Yet.

He stared at her from the doorway without speaking. Her blood chilled at his predatory look. It was like he was hungry, and she was a filet mignon. Using her feet as leverage, she shoved herself further into the corner. The mattress skidded forward, causing her to slip lower on the pad.

His eyes flared. Did he think she was signaling she wanted what that look on his face telegraphed he was determined to do? Her stomach heaved.

She wanted to close her eyes, but there was no way she was taking her sight off him. In her mind, though, she pictured her life back in her hometown of Darling, Tennessee—the town she’d run from. Not because of the Daddies and Littles who seemed drawn to it but because of her own father.

At eighteen, she’d never had the chance to explore her feelings about the lifestyle most of the people living there practiced. The men were overprotective and possessive of their women yet treated them as the most precious treasures in their lives.

At eighteen, she couldn’t fathom how the women didn’t feel smothered or disrespected. But they didn’t. No, the women of Darling adored it. No one could have convinced her she’d want a Daddy of her own one day. Not then. But now she was six years older, and those years had taught her a lot. Hurt her a lot.

She didn’t feel that way anymore.

Right now, she’d give anything to have a strong protective Daddy to shield her from the beast standing in the doorway. But she’d missed her chance. There were no Daddies here, and even if there were, they wouldn’t want a Little girl as damaged as she’d become.

Nico Midnight, the man who had kidnapped her, wasn’t anywhere close to being a Daddy. Neither were the men who worked in his organization. These arrogant men were cruel and selfish and made her long for things she’d scorned before.

“There you are,il mia topolina, my little mouse.I think it’s time for you to scurry out of the corner and play with me.”

When he closed and locked the door, her heartbeat staggered. She could barely hear him over the roar of the blood rushing in her ears. He was huge, muscled, and mean. The bruise on her cheek bore proof of that.

As his staggered steps brought him closer, the whimper her frozen throat had held back escaped. The flare of triumph in his eyes told her he hadn’t missed it.