19. Aurora
Chapter 19
Aurora
D aniele holds Romeo’s bedroom door open for me, inclining his head when I hesitate to enter. I don’t understand why I’ve been sent up here again. Surely any courtesy I’ve been shown is over now? He’s fed me, I’ve slept for hours and now I should be back in my cell?
Daniele sighs heavily as he stares down at me, his impatience clear in the way his jaw works with every second that ticks by. In the distance, there’s a steady hum of chatter, reminding me that we’re not alone.
When the dessert plates were cleared away after dinner, Romeo said something in Italian to Daniele. His chair scraped back, and he looked at me expectantly. My eyes darted to Romeo, but he refused to answer the questions my gaze bore into him.
I guess I have no choice but to cross the threshold and accept whatever fate lies in wait for me. My body tenses, on high alert and aware of the danger lurking in the man behind me.
“Alma will bring you a fresh pad and a hairbrush in the morning.”
I glance over my shoulder, a groove forming between my brows as I tilt my head, certain I must have misheard him. Facing the door, I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts off the attempt with a nod of his head before pulling the door closed. This time, the key turns in the lock, a finality in the sound as it echoes through the room.
Closing my eyes, I picture Romeo moving around doing things I’ve never seen him do. It’s so real and intimate. The faint scent of him lingers in the air, and an anticipation hums in my core at the idea of being in his space. It feels all-consuming and… dangerous.
Blinking my eyes open, I cross the room to stand in front of the window, resting my forehead on the cool pane of glass. The sun has set, leaving the forest-green fields shrouded in darkness. My attention is drawn to the lights illuminating the driveway. If I wasn’t being held captive, I’d be able to enjoy this view. There’s something classic and elegant about it.
A golf cart speeds around the side of the house, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps before two armed guards climb out of its back seat. They take up residence at the bottom of the steps, their guns cradled in their arms. I imagine the stony expressions on their faces as they settle in to protect the house and its occupants for the night. The cart races off down the driveway, kicking up a cloud of gravel as it goes.
Rolling my lips, I turn away from the window and face the bed. My teeth drag over my bottom lip as I stare at the freshly made sheets. If I’m sleeping in here again tonight, will Romeo sleep in the chair again? Or does he expect something from me in exchange for his hospitality?
I know he’s set on using me to get to my father, but does he have his sights set on using my body too? What happened in the shower was a one-off. I was in shock and I know now, after the fact, that I should have pushed him away.
So why does my body ache to be filled by him again?
Massaging my chest to ease the tingling sensation taking up residence, I look around the room, forcing my mind to focus on why I’m here, how I get out, and who he is, to stop the yearning. He might have made me explode like nobody ever has before, but he’s a murderer. And I’m going to be one of his victims.
For years, I kept myself out of this life and now I’m surrounded by dangerous men with very little regard for me. This isn’t what I want and, the way I see it, I have two options. I can either stay and wait for them to kill me. Or I could find a way out. If I die doing that, at least I tried .
If a swift death is not an option, then I don’t want to live here as a captive. My freedom is all that matters. And that’s why I’m going to run.
A fluttering feeling passes through my chest and I press my lips together, determined to get to work on finding a way out of here. My eyes dart around the room, bouncing from one spot to another. There has to be something in here that I can use. A phone or a radio; anything to communicate with the outside world. Christ, I’d settle for a carrier pigeon at this point.
I dart across the room to the bedside table closest to me. My movements are jerky as I pull it open. Disappointment settles into the pit of my stomach as I stare down at the empty drawer.
Think, Aurora. Where would you hide something that could get me out of here?
The moment my eyes land on the door opposite the bed, it’s like a lightbulb flickering on and guiding me. The closet . An urgency takes over and I fly across the room, barreling through the door. The wood knocks against the cabinetry inside and I freeze as the loud bang reverberates.
I count down from five, staying as still as I possibly can. Only when I’m certain that nobody is coming do I move. I don’t know how long Romeo will be downstairs, or if I’ll get another chance to search for something that might help me make it out of here on my terms, so I need to be careful.
Closing the door behind me as quietly as possible, I pull in a breath, calming my body. Nausea swells in my throat and I shake out my hands to clear the nervousness racing through me.
I run my hands over the black and white shirts that hang in a neat row on the right-hand side of the room. The other side is bare and for a brief, fanciful moment, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to have my clothes hanging there.
Shaking my head, I huff out a disbelieving laugh. Get it together, Aurora . He’s a mobster, and if I didn’t want my own father in my life because of this world, why the hell would I want Romeo Bianchi when he’s so much more dangerous?
I walk further into the closet, my eyes flitting around, searching. There has to be something here. A man like Romeo would have a phone or a laptop. Anything to conduct business on, especially in this day and age.
A set of drawers sits under a light at the end of the room. It calls to me like a siren, beckoning me over. I come to a stop in front of it, pulling open the top drawer.
Neatly rolled up ties stare back at me. Each one is a bright color, sectioned away in its own compartment. This doesn’t add up and disappointment hits me. I would have expected expensive watches or sweaters, even underwear, but a bright purple tie was not on the list. In fact, I haven’t seen him wearing anything other than black.
Pushing the drawer closed, I move on to the next one. Rolled up black T-shirts. That’s more like it . How he managed to get so many black T-shirts in the same exact shade is a mystery and kind of impressive. I run my hands around the drawer, trying not to disturb the order. Nothing .
Desperation fuels my movements and I yank open the next drawer, searching with ferocity, uncaring about hiding my snooping this time. There has to be something here. I need there to be something here.
“What are you doing, Aurora?” There’s genuine curiosity in his voice, but I’d be remiss to ignore the dangerous undercurrent idling beneath the surface.
I flinch, my eyes bulging before I drop my chin, needing a moment to compose myself.
Well, my attempt at escaping lasted a whole five minutes.
Pulling the shutters down and masking any emotions that might give me away, I turn to face Romeo. For a moment, I’m distracted by his open shirt and the dark ink gracing his beautifully chiseled chest. A dart of lust hits me in the gut, leaving me breathless. But then I remember what I was in the process of doing, and a smile forms on my lips that feels forced and weak. “Oh, nothing. I wasn’t doing anything.”
Romeo cocks a brow. “Really?” He moves closer, and I fold my arms over my chest, refusing to back down. “Because it looked like you were rummaging through my things.”
My mind whirls, searching for a plausible explanation for what he walked in on before I stutter, “I… I was… I was looking for a clean T-shirt. I, umm, was going to shower. If that’s okay?” I blink up at him, innocently.
He watches me, his eyes narrowed, before he steps around me. My body tenses, worry gnawing in my gut when he pulls open a drawer. The whoosh of it opening might as well be a guillotine for all I care. Subtly, I suck in a breath, but it gets stuck and a weird, panicked sound erupts from my parted lips.
This could very well be the beginning of the end.
His breath dusts my neck, the heat from his body setting off a whirlwind of mixed emotions. Lust fights with panic, but I keep my tense body still. When he hands me one of his black T-shirts, my shoulders slump. “You don’t need to ask for my permission to bathe yourself, Aurora.”
Grabbing it from his hand, I clench it to my chest. I take a step forward and then another until I reach the open door. Romeo calls out and I turn to face him, my eyes meeting his before darting to his full lips. I suck in a breath, blinking rapidly to keep myself rooted to the ground.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he says matter of factly, “We have a gala to attend next weekend. Maria will arrange a dress. I’ll have her pick out some every-day clothes for you while she’s at it.”
His words take a second to register; my attention on the movements of his strong, capable hands. Lifting my eyes away from the tempting artwork that is his torso, I try but fail to process what he’s saying. Clothes? A gala? He’s taking me to a gala . A sense of dread fills me, panic clawing at my chest at the prospect of more gunfire. I rest my hand on my collarbone, swallowing down the bile.
Maybe I can use the gala to make my escape.
Clearing my throat, I push through the pounding in my ears and ask, “Can you at least ask her to get clothes that fit me?”
Romeo shrugs out of his shirt, dropping it onto the bench next to him. “What size are you?”
“A four.”
Silence hangs heavy in the space between us and he looks at me expectantly with one hand resting on his belt buckle. “Are you going to shower?”
Crap . “Yes.” I hold up the T-shirt, waving it in the air as I leave the room.
His voice floats through the air, following me when he calls, “Oh, and maybe when you’re done, you can tell me what you were really doing.”
There's a hint of danger in his words. One that has my thighs clenching in excitement at the same time as my heart beats an unsteady rhythm. I guess I’ll be spending my time in the shower coming up with an excuse for going through his things because I’m not about to compromise the small bit of freedom he’s given me.
For as long as I’m in this room, I’ll spend my time wisely, searching for a way out.