23
AEMELIA
NOT MY FATHER
Antonio left after breakfast with a lingering backward glance as though he was worried about leaving me in the house with four gnarled soldiers who barely speak, and his brothers. After showering one by one, the soldiers disappear to man the perimeter, and Luca spends most of his time pacing in the backyard on the phone, leaving me alone with Alexis.
His words won’t stop echoing around in my mind like a drug, dissolving my composure and making me restless.
Are you the begging type?
I didn’t think I was, but when he said it, my pussy tightened like a closing fist, and my knees softened like they were ready to bend for him. Heat pooled low in my belly, pulsing between my thighs. I remembered Luca ordering me to my knees, his fingers brushing against me, and instead of disgust, all I felt was rage and hunger.
Something happened to me during my captivity. These men, who at first seemed like monsters, have become undeniably human in my eyes. The fear I once felt is no longer a scream in my mind. It’s just a whisper now, an occasional shiver down my spine, something that lingers but does not command me.
So when Alexis drops onto the couch beside me to watch the only decent thing on TV—a quiz show—and starts shouting out answers, I should be frozen with fear. But I’m not. He sprawls out lazily, feet on the table, radiating confidence he hasn’t earned.
“Which organ produces insulin?”
“Oh, I know this!”
Alexis snaps his fingers. “The testicles!”
I choke out, “WHAT? No! It’s the pancreas!”
“Listen,”
he argues, completely serious. “Guys get moody when they’re hungry. That’s gotta be hormonal. So logically... bam. Testicles.”
I snort with surprised laughter. “Your logic is terrifying.”
“The correct answer is the pancreas,”
the host confirms.
Alexis grumbles, shifting in his seat. “Whatever. Next question. I’ll get the next one.”
“Which Shakespearean play features the line, ‘To be, or not to be’?”
Without missing a beat, Alexis smirks. “Fast we’ll make him go away.”
I flinch back. “Go away… or go away?”
His lips tilt into something that might be called a smile if it weren’t so cold, so full of malice for the man who terrified me. “You don’t need to worry about anything, bella. Just tell me his name, where he works, any information.”
I bite my lip, but he fixes me with a look that brooks no argument. I either do as he says willingly, or he’ll find a way. I tell him and he rises to his feet with smooth, calculated ease, his shoulders squared, his expression unreadable.
Then, without another word, he turns and strides toward the door.
“Antonio.”
My voice trembles slightly, but he doesn’t pause.
“Stay here,”
he orders.
The door clicks shut behind him, and I let out a shaky breath, pressing my fingers to my temples.
I don’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified.