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Rose

Rose

T he entire time I’m talking, I’m thinking. I don’t know how far it is to the kitchen, but it can’t be far. The food was hot when I got to the table. Can I get to the kitchen and get a knife? Stab him and get out of here?

I know the place is guarded well, but so was Ricardo’s and he got me in and out of there via the roof. Maybe I can do the same.

I have to get out of here. I woke up this morning feeling sick. I knew at once that last night was a mistake. It’s like getting drunk and then waking up with a hangover. Only this time, it wasn’t waking up to find my two best friends had carried me home and tucked me into bed.

This time I woke up feeling a dull ache between my legs from where he’d slammed into me. My throat was sore from him shoving himself into my mouth.

I was naked in bed and I sat up, knowing it was a lot worse than a hangover. I don’t know what to call it. Maybe a sexover. The sex is over and I know it was a dumb thing to do.

I got caught up in the lust of the moment. He’s an ice cold killer and letting him do that to me was the stupidest thing I could have done.

The original plan vanished from my mind the moment he touched between my legs. The plan was to fuck him long enough for him to lower his guard and then scratch his eyes out, sneak out, and get help before he even had time to react.

Instead, I let it happen and then I fell asleep, and he left. I lay in bed with the remnants of his desire all over me and I fell asleep dreaming of a blissful life with him.

I woke up this morning, and the sexover was right there, so much worse than a hangover. I can’t have a life with him. He’s a criminal. It could never work.

What I need to do is get out of here, go get help. Get him arrested and then get back to my normal life. I put a pair of jeans on and a plain white top. I don’t want to look appealing. I want him to think he’d be better off without me. I want him to want me gone.

Or do I?

It’s a sign of how little I’m thinking straight. I can’t imagine anything except my life going back to normal. It wouldn’t, of course. Ricardo would come for me. He’s reminded me of that.

If I go to the authorities and get into some kind of witness protection, it still won’t mean a life that’s normal. I’ll forever be looking over my shoulder, using a fake name, never seeing my friends or family again.

So I talk and try not to think about anything beyond getting gone. Finding a way out of this place and getting back home.

There’s a tiny part of me that wishes he’s right. I wish my father is the Capo dei Capi. If that is the case, he could protect me. Tell Dino to leave me the fuck alone.

He’s not though. He’s just a fisherman who probably has no idea where I am. No one is coming to help me. I need to help myself.

“What do you want to do with your life?” Dino asks me.

“Become a dog trainer,” I reply, glancing across at the door. It’s open. Can I make a run for it? How fast is he?

When I came out of the basement this morning, I was sure I could get by him, but he was too fast. He’s still got a scratch on his cheek from my attempts to break free.

I hate him. I look at his handsome face, so indifferent to the hell he’s putting me through. He just sits there sipping coffee and chatting to me like we’ve just started dating.

My husband. A sick joke if ever there was one. I can’t do this. I can’t be married to him. I’m too young. I always said I would marry for love, but look at me. I’m hitched to him.

It would be easier if he wasn’t so good looking. Or if he’d yell at me. He’s being so kind and talking in such a nice voice, it makes it hard to think about stabbing him and running for it. But he kidnapped me.

There is nothing consensual about any of this. I’m trapped here because of him and it’s only by fighting him that I’ll get free. I need to focus. And not on thoughts of last night.

“Ever been abroad?” he’s asking.

“Never. Always wanted to go to Rome.”

“That can be arranged.”

When I look at his lips, I think of him kissing me last night, and tingles run through me. Don’t think about kisses. Don’t think about a vacation in Rome, holding hands and sneaking down alleyways for him to give me commands. Ordering me to remove my panties or flash my tits at him across a crowded street.

Don’t think about that. Think about getting out of here. Work out how to get gone. That’s what matters, not submitting to his commands and bending over for him to spank my ass bright red.

“You always lived in Gordon’s Cove?”

“All my life.”

“Like it?”

“Love it. Seaside town, quiet, except for mafia assholes showing up every five minutes.”

“When the mansion’s built, you will live in it with me.”

“It’s not getting built. I’m going to save the shelter.”

“Of course you are. Stubborn one, aren’t you? I told you the shelter is going to be rebuilt bigger and better than before.”

“Bullshit.”

“I am many things, Rose, but I am not a liar. The old shelter was falling apart. It would crumble in a couple of years anyway.” He’s looking right at me and I could drown in those eyes. Suddenly I’m hungry for something that isn’t food.

“Come with me,” he says, getting to his feet."

He walks over to the door and doesn’t look back. It pisses me off royally that he just assumes I’ll follow him. I could run right now. I look up and down the dining room. I slip a knife into my hand, pressing it to my side as I catch up with him.

He walks up a flight of stairs and along a corridor, pushing open the door at the end. “This will be your room,” he says. “Until you decide to spend the night in my bed. ”

“You mean you aren’t going to force me into your bed?” Why does my question sound like I’m disappointed?

“We’re married now. You have rights.”

“The right to leave this fucking house?”

“Not yet.” He walks into the bedroom, and I follow, gasping at the sight before me. The room is bigger than my entire house. Floor to ceiling windows that look out on the city streets.

We’re only a couple of stories up but it feels like a world away from the commuters and street traders out there. “Can they see in?” I ask, pressing myself to the glass.

“If I touch this,” he says, pointing at a button next to him. “Up and you’re invisible. Down and they can see in like they’re standing right next to you.”

I spin around, taking in the huge four-poster bed, the antique furniture, the paintings on the walls, the thick burgundy carpet. “Better than the basement?” he asks.

I nod as he pulls open a wardrobe. The interior is filled with designer clothes. Dresses, jackets, underwear.

“All in your size,” he says. “I look after my wife.”

He pulls open another door, and it’s a shoe closet the size of my bathroom. He turns a handle and the shelves move to reveal another row behind them. “Wow,” I say. “I’m impressed.”

“Got the idea from Overboard,” he replies. “Worked out pretty well.”

“I love that movie!”

He’s walking toward me and frowning, and I realize I’ve let the knife come into view. Shit. He reaches a hand out. “Give that to me,” he says.

I step back from him. I mustn’t let the luxury fool me. It’s still a prison and I’m still trapped here. I shake my head and brandish the blade. “Let me go,” I say. “Just let me go home.”

He shakes his head, and he looks sad, as if he wants to let me go. “I can’t,” he says. “You’d be dead by the end of the day. Time is running out for the Beluccis. Any time now, your father will get in touch to confirm his retirement and my position as head of all the families. Give me the knife.”

He takes another step toward me, and I wave the knife at him. He ducks around it and grabs my wrist, pulling me off balance. As I fall, he catches me, tossing the blade away. He holds me tight, his expression turning to anger.

“You will learn to behave,” he says, picking me up and carrying me to the bed. It’s only then that I notice the ropes in each corner.

He shoves me on my back, his knee in my stomach. I squirm to try and get free as he grabs my left wrist, looping the rope around it and tying it tight.

“Get off me!” I yell, punching him with my free fist. He catches it and ties it down, leaving my legs to thrash as he binds me to the bed. I’m held down tight, fighting the ropes that keep me in place as he stands up and looks down at me.

“You need to understand something,” he says. “And this seems to be the only way to get it through to you.”

I spit at him. He wipes it from his face and leans closer. “Do it again if it makes you feel better,” he says. “You will not be untied until you apologize for sneaking the knife from the dining room. What was the plan? Stab me? What then?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“And be dead by nightfall. You know I could rip those clothes off you and flick that switch and leave you there for the entire city to stare at. How would you like that? Lick you to orgasm with all those people watching, that what you want?”

“Go to hell.”

“This is for your own good. I’m keeping you here to protect you, Rose. You’ll be killed if I let you out.”

“You keep saying that. Why should I believe you?”

“Remember what Ricardo did to you last time?” His voice shifts, becoming gentler. “I’m keeping you here to keep you safe. If you’d just calm the fuck down and think properly, you’d realize I’m trying to help you.”

“By tying me to the bed? Thanks a lot.”

“Being tied down can be punishment but it can also be pleasure.”

“What is pleasurable about this?”

He leans down and kisses me, and to my eternal shame, I kiss him back. His tongue slips into my mouth and my body comes to life. I know I’m fucking up big time, but I can’t help myself. Something about his embrace does things to me I never expected to happen.

I’m a mess. My head hurts from trying to work it out. I want to go home, but I can’t. I want to stay with him, but I mustn’t. I can’t stay with someone who treats me this way. Like I’m an animal to be tamed.

His kisses move down to my neck. His hand goes to my chest, squeezing my tits through my top. My nipples harden at once and I fight my bonds again, this time not wanting to get away, but wanting to touch him. To move him, to touch me between my legs, the place where an ache is already building.

He lifts my top, pulling down my bra so my tits are exposed. Then he stands up and walks over to the switch on the wall. “I flick this and the world gets to see you like that,” he says. “You going to behave, or do I let them see?”