8. Aurora
Chapter 8
Aurora
W aves of hostility crash into me, pulling me from my dreamless sleep long before the creak of the heavy door penetrates the haze. My eyes flutter open and I stare at the gray brick in front of me, confused as to where I am.
You’re in a prison cell, Aurora .
Right , because I got kidnapped by some insane mafia don, who seems to think I know where my father is. Maybe if I go back to sleep, I’ll wake up in my own bed and all of this will have been a dream. Or a nightmare . I squeeze my eyes shut, but his angry breathing and the hostility choking the air don’t dissipate.
“What are you doing?”
It’s a growled question, full of threat and meant to intimidate. I’m sure it’s had the desired effect on others; people who have wanted to fight for their lives. But I want nothing more than for him to make good on his threats. For him to put me out of my misery.
At my silence, he closes the gap between us. His footsteps are light, and I imagine him prowling toward me like a majestic lion. Every fiber of my being comes alive when his thick fingers grab my arm, rolling me onto my back. There’s a touch of hesitancy in his cobalt-blue eyes, as if he, too, can feel the energy passing between us. A shiver skates down my spine and my breath hitches as tingles race down my arm.
He releases me, and I fight against the urge to rub the spot that feels scarred by his touch. When he kneels on the bed, it creaks under his weight and I hold his stare as he brings his face to within an inch of mine.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips. His nostrils flare and he bares his teeth to me. Even as he pins me to the bed with a look of anger—red and flaming, burning into my soul—I can’t stop the defiant curling of my lips.
Do your worst, Romeo Bianchi .
He grips my chin in his fingers like a vise. Fear bubbles to the surface before I push it down, compelling the numbness I’m too familiar with to take over. Fear has no place in my emotions.
“You think this is funny? That you have a say in anything that happens to you? Your days of freedom are long gone, Aurora. I own every inch of you. When I say jump, you don’t ask how high, you just fucking do it. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
His words send a confusing mixture of excitement, powerlessness, and anger hurtling through my body, heating the nape of my neck. And yet, I don’t move or show him any sign of the emotions warring inside of me.
Forcefully pushing my face away, he grabs at the collar of my T-shirt, lifting my limp body from the mattress. I stare at the wall. The throbbing in my jaw from where he grabbed me is unbearable, and I blink away the tears that threaten to spill.
He drops me back onto the mattress, ripping the cheap cotton of my shirt down the middle. A gasp is torn from my lips when his knuckles graze my pebbled nipples as he exposes my bare chest. My eyes snap to his, and I bite my tongue to hold back a moan.
How can I want him when he’s behaving in such a vicious way?
I should be feeling humiliated , not turned on and… needy.
Shocked at what he’s done and my body’s betrayal, I make no attempt to cover myself. The cool air has goosebumps forming on my exposed skin and I search his face for a reaction to my nakedness. There’s no hint of regret or remorse in his striking gaze. The anger is still there, bubbling beneath the surface, but there’s also heat.
Holding my stare, he brushes his hand down my stomach. Instinctively, my hips lift a fraction, and I bite down on my lip to keep from begging him for more. The silence is deafening and I’m acutely aware of each breath I take as I wait. He moves in slow motion, popping the button of my jeans and lazily dragging the zipper down. I swallow thickly, anticipation and arousal heightening my senses.
Suddenly, he steps back, his height magnified from where I lie on the bed. It’s as if the moment never happened when he tugs on the cuffs of his shirt and snaps, “Get up, Aurora. I expect you to be showered and dressed in the next twenty minutes.”
The ‘or else’ remains unspoken, hanging in the air, as he strides out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I allow myself two minutes to process what’s just happened before I move on autopilot, swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress. My concern about being watched is long gone, along with any modesty I had. He’s ripped them both away with my T-shirt, leaving me to feel wanton and dirty.
I undress, leaving what’s left of my clothes in a pile on the end of the bed, before grabbing the bottle of shower gel I threw on the floor earlier. Naked, I walk to the shower in the corner of the room. I have no clue what I’m going to wear now. Does he think I’ll walk around naked for his pleasure? No, he can’t be that callous.
Christ, Aurora. You don’t know this man or what he’s capable of .
I’ve worked so hard to keep myself out of this life. If I want to live, I should keep my head down and do as he demands. But I don’t want to live. Dismissing the dark thought, I reach into the cubicle, twisting the rusted faucets. They’re stiff and creak as I force them to move. Just beyond the wall, I hear water rushing as it makes its way through the pipes.
Cold water spurts onto the stained tile floor. After a few minutes of it not getting any warmer, I step under the spray. Of course there won’t be hot water in their torture room. Icy water pelts down on my goosebump-prickled skin. Tremors wrack my body, and despite the freezing water, I dip my head under it, holding still as I give in to the silent sobs.
There’s a safety to the water because I know that it will hide my fear, hurt, and humiliation from the world. It always has.
When my tears have dried up and I can’t take the torturous temperature anymore, I take a step back. Shutting off the shower, I turn in search of a towel. I don’t know why I’m surprised there isn’t one. It’s not a damn hotel, Aurora.
Swiping up the blanket, I use it to dry off my hair before dabbing at my body. The coarse material doesn’t absorb the water like I need, but it does a good enough job. My eyes fall to my torn clothes in a pile on the bed. I don’t have much choice. I’m going to have to put them on again.
Wrapping the blanket around my body, I tug my jeans back on; the denim clinging to my damp legs as I wrestle them up. I’m slightly out of breath by the time I push the button through the hole and pull up the zipper.
I hold up the my shirt, twisting and turning it as I try to figure out the best way to use it to cover myself. In the end, I slide my arms through the sleeves, putting the back at my front and tying the tattered edges behind me. It’s not perfect but it will do.
My body tenses at the reverberation of the door being unlocked and pushed open. I don’t turn to face him, but the way my body reacts, I know it’s Romeo. His frustration from earlier seems to have gone. I guess I should be thankful for that.
When he doesn’t speak, I finally turn. He’s leaning against the wall, observing me as I comb my fingers through my damp hair. Trying to be as covert as possible, I take him in. He’s dressed all in black with his hair slicked back, but still curling at the collar. My fingers itch to fiddle with the strands, and I tug on my own a tad too firmly. His jaw is smooth where he’s shaved, but it doesn’t take away from his handsome features. I still want to run my fingers over his full lips and trace the contours of his cheekbones and nose.
God, what is wrong with me?
“I’m glad to see you can follow instructions, cucciola .” He pushes away from the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. There’s an edge to his voice when he adds, “I’ll only say this once, Aurora, when you go upstairs, don’t try to run. Should you so much as think about it, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in the back of your head.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I tilt my head. “So, if I don’t want to be held down here against my will,” I look around the room, my lip curling in disgust before I meet his hardened stare and continue, “I should just make a break for it and you’ll put me out of my misery? Got it.”
Crossing the room, I move to step past him, but he grabs hold of my arm, slamming me against the wall. My head knocks against the brick and I flinch at the contact, my nostrils flaring, before Romeo crowds me, forcing my chin up. There’s so much anger and… lust in his gaze that I’m surprised I don’t combust on the spot.
Don’t show him any weakness. It’s what he wants .
“Don’t test me, Aurora. You might put on a brave ‘I don’t give fuck’ front, but that’s all it is. A front . I can see right through you, and I know that when the time comes, you’ll be a whimpering mess, begging for your life. Hell, you might offer me your body.”
His thumb swipes over my bottom lip, and my breath hitches as he pulls it down, leaving a trail of wetness on my chin before he pushes his thumb into my open mouth. I fight against the desire to close my eyes and swirl my tongue around it. His voice is thick and dark when he continues, “Believe me, bellissima , you won’t be that good. Nobody ever is. You’d do well to remember that even when you think you have it, the control will always sit firmly with me.”
He steps away, seemingly unfazed by our interaction, holding out his arm for me to exit the room. My heart races, and a heat rushes through my body. Twice, in less than an hour, he’s elicited that kind of reaction in me. I need to get my body under control, because giving into this man is completely reprehensible.
I break eye contact with Romeo, turning away as I head for the door. All the while praying that my internal reaction remains just that— internal .
There’s laughter in his voice when he says, “Daniele will take you upstairs. There are people coming to do your hair and makeup. They won’t care for any tales you might tell, Aurora. And even if they did, it would be you with their blood on your hands.”
His words are worse than the cold shower and I swallow thickly. I get the impression that Romeo would have no issues with making that threat a reality. Keeping my attention on the path ahead, I move down the dark corridor. Daniele, the guy from earlier, is waiting at the bottom of a set of steps. When I reach him, his hand wraps around my arm and I flinch at his harsh grip.
Romeo’s tone is biting when he calls, “Ease up, Daniele. I don’t want my date covered in bruises.”
His date? My brows pull together as I process his words. What the hell does Romeo Bianchi have planned for me?
Whatever it is, I’m certain that it will only end one way.
And it won’t be in my favor.