13
Liv
Philly?
Alessio’s house is in Philly.
This is fine.
Everything’s fine.
No, this is not fine.
I hop off the bed, my chest feels tight, and I go to storm out of the room, with all the frustration of someone who has zero idea what they’re doing but is fully determined to look like they do.
My fingers curl around the handle, and I throw the door open, ready to confront him.
And bam.
I slam into a wall.
Except it’s not a wall.
It’s a solid mass of muscle, and before I can fall flat on my ass, two large hands clamp down on my shoulders and pull me to my feet.
My breath catches, my heart hammering so loudly I swear the whole plane can hear it.
I know exactly who it is before I even look up.
Still, I force myself to glance up anyway, and man, is that a big mistake .
Our eyes meet for a half-second, and let me tell you, it’s not the kind of romantic eye-locking moment you see in movies.
Nope.
This is the ‘Oh, hi, I’m going to kill you now’ kind of eye-locking, like I’m already dead, and he was enjoying the thought of watching me suffer.
My stomach twists.
Jesus Christ, he’s terrifying.
And, of course, the other three guys are just watching like they’re front row at the circus.
“Need something, stalker?” Alessio’s voice is ice cold, and I swear the temperature drops ten degrees.
The air rushes out of my lungs, and my brain short-circuits.
I open my mouth, but whatever bravado I had is fucking obliterated.
I feel myself shrinking under his stare, and I hate it.
Come on, Liv.
Say something.
I force my voice to work.
“Just looking for something to eat,” I lie.
Pathetic.
Even I don’t believe myself.
Alessio doesn’t move, doesn’t blink.
His grip tightens slightly before he shoves me into the nearest seat like I weigh nothing.
Like I’m a problem that needs to be contained.
“Alonzo, get her something,” he orders, already dismissing me.
Alonzo gives him a nod but shoots me an evil glare, his eyes practically burning with malice.
He stomps over to the kitchenette, rummages through a little basket, and grabs a handful of mini bags of peanuts.
He grins, then throws them right at my face.
“Hope you’re allergic,” he sneers.
The bags land in my lap.
I stare at them, then at him, debating if this is the moment I fight back or choke on my pride.
One glance at Alessio tells me now is not the time.
My throat is dry, but I manage to swallow down the sarcastic comment that’s itching to come out, knowing it would only make things worse.
I can’t afford to poke the bear again.
I spot the bottle of water from earlier still sitting on the tray.
It’s sealed, untouched, and since it was meant for Alessio, I figure it’s safe enough for me.
I don’t think.
I just grab it and chug the entire thing in one go, realizing just how thirsty I am.
Satisfied, I settle back in the seat and open two bags of peanuts, pouring a handful into my mouth.
The slight crunch is comforting.
Maybe if I focus on that, I can pretend I’m not on this nightmare of a ride.
But then I feel the seat shift and realize the beast himself is now next to me.
“Do you make it a habit to annoy me?” Alessio’s deep voice rumbles beside me.
“What did I do?” I blurt, genuinely confused.
I haven’t even said anything .
He nods toward the empty bottle on my lap.
“Is that my water?”
Crap.
My face burns.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“I was thirsty…” My voice trails off, and I resist the urge to shrink into the seat.
Alessio’s expression gives away nothing.
I can’t tell if he’s annoyed, amused, or just plotting my slow, painful death.
“Now I don’t feel so bad about doing this.”
My brows furrow.
“Doing wha—”
Something sharp jabs into my thigh…
a syringe.
I gasp, my brain tries to catch up with what’s happening, but it all unfolds too quickly.
The sting barely registers before my legs feel like lead, sinking into the seat.
“Wha… th—” My words slur as a wave of dizziness hits me hard.
Everything’s spinning, the edges of my vision go fuzzy.
I try to reach for the needle or move, but my arms are useless, like boulders I can’t lift.
Alessio’s smirking face watching me is the last thing I see before everything goes black.
I wake up face down like I’ve been tossed here without a second thought.
My arms tingle with that awful pins-and-needles feeling from how I was lying on it.
I blink, trying to orient myself, but everything’s a blur.
Where am I?
My head throbs, but I still notice it’s dark outside.
I’m guessing it’s late or really early.
I roll onto my back, wincing as the pounding in my skull sharpens.
The room around me feels unfamiliar.
The walls are light gray and minimal.
There’s barely anything in here, just two framed black-and-white abstract pieces that vaguely look like a woman’s silhouette.
A large dresser and this massive bed I’ve been dumped into are dead center of the room.
Okay, think, Liv.
I kick my feet off the bed, hoping the door to the left is a bathroom.
I shuffle over, trying not to trip on the unfamiliar floor, and twist the knob.
Bingo.
The ensuite is blindingly sterile, and everything is white.
White floors, white walls, white vanity.
It feels more like a hospital room than a bathroom.
The only hint of color is the faint line running through the marble shower.
I spot another door.
Closet, maybe ?
I push it open, but it’s completely empty.
Great.
No clues there.
After taking care of business, I splash cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up.
The headache’s still there, but at least I’m not entirely out of it anymore.
Back in the room, I glance at the second door.
Might as well try it.
I wiggle the knob, only to find it locked.
Of course, it’s locked.
I knock a few times, not really sure what I’m expecting.
Maybe someone to explain where I am?
Suddenly, the door flies open, and I barely have time to react before a huge figure storms in—Alonzo.
He’s all red in the face, and before I can say a word, he barks, “What the fuck are you doing?”
I can’t even think clearly enough to process a response, when he shoves me hard.
The force knocks me clean off my feet.
I hit the floor with a thud, landing right on my butt, then rolling onto my back.
Well, this is going swell.
That’s when it hits me, everything comes rushing back.
Alessio, the flight, his infuriatingly smug face declaring I was going to his house.
So, this must be it.
And then the needle, he drugged me.
That slimy bastard drugged me.
My stomach twists, nausea bubbling up at the thought of being knocked out and completely at his mercy.
I’m still lying on the floor, piecing it all together, when Alonzo’s massive frame looms over me.
He doesn’t waste time, kicking me in the thigh with his huge combat boot.
Hard.
The pain explodes through my leg, and I let out a groan, my thoughts scattering in every direction.
“Well?” Alonzo snaps, his face turning impossibly redder.
“Why were you pounding on the door?”
I stammer, trying to catch my breath and form a response.
“I-I didn’t mean to, I just woke up, and—”
“And nothing,” he cuts me off, seething like a rabid animal.
“You’ll shut the fuck up and behave, or I’ll end you myself.”
Great.
If I thought Alessio was pissed, Alonzo looks like he’s ready to combust.
What crawled up his—nope, not going there.
Not with him standing over me, fists clenched and eyes blazing.
“I-I was just hoping to speak to Alessio,” I manage, my voice smaller than I’d like.
“And maybe get a glass of water?”
Alonzo laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it.
“You don’t get to speak to the Boss,” he sneers.
“And if you’re thirsty, drink out of the toilet, bitch!”
My stomach drops.
His hand is already on the door handle, but before he leaves, he gives me one last icy look, his eyes practically stabbing through me.
“It’d be wise to stay quiet and act like you don’t exist. Don’t cause any more shit.”
The door slams, and I hear the faint click of the lock .
I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
What a jerk.
I try to get up, but as soon as I put weight on my leg, pain shoots through my thigh where he kicked me.
I gingerly pull my pants down to look, and yep, there’s a massive red mark already turning into a bruise.
I need a shower.
I’m still in the makeshift outfit from the plane, and I feel grimy like I’ve been rolled in someone else’s dirt.
These pants, Nicole’s pants, need to come off before I catch something from her.
But I have to deal with it because it’s not like I have anything to change into.
So many questions are racing through my mind, but I force myself to take a few deep breaths.
Calm down, Liv, just breathe .
I slide back onto the bed and wait for what feels like forever, staring at nothing because there’s literally nothing here.
No TV, no phone, just me and these ugly, sterile walls.
I’m about to start counting ceiling tiles when I hear the door unlocking.
My heart skips, and I go to stand, but my thigh protests, still aching from Alonzo’s boot.
So, I sit back down, trying not to wince.
When Alonzo walks back through the door, my stomach drops.
He’s carrying a brown paper bag, the kind you’d pack a school lunch in, and that smug grin of his gives me the creeps .
“Because of you, I’m the fucking errand boy,” he snaps, holding the bag in both hands like he’s about to crush it, and he does.
He crumples it up with a sneer, smashing the contents inside.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he mocks before tossing the squashed bag on the floor and storming out like he’s proud of his little power trip.
I sit there for a second, staring at the mess on the floor.
Seriously?
I hobble over, my thigh throbbing with each step, and crouch down to inspect the damage.
It’s worse than I thought.
Inside, there’s what used to be a sandwich, now half-drowned in juice that’s soaked through the bread.
The grapes?
Smashed into the sandwich.
The whole thing is a soggy, unappetizing mess.
What an absolute ass .
Tears sting my eyes before I can stop them, and I try to blink them away, but it’s no use.
Everything’s catching up to me.
The stress, the fear, the uncertainty.
This is my karma, isn’t it?
For what I did to Cindy, everything I’ve done to get this far.
I toss the food in the bin beside the dresser and crawl back onto the bed, hugging my knees to my chest, and let the tears come.
I cry for what feels like hours, until there’s nothing left but exhaustion.
Eventually, I drift off, curled up in this cold, lonely room.