4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Serena
A s soon as I begin to wake, something feels off. I can sense my heart racing, pounding against my chest like a wild animal trying to break free. There’s an intense throbbing sensation in my head. Every beat feels like a hammer against my skull.
Nausea washes over me in relentless waves, causing my stomach to churn and twist. It feels as if a storm is raging within me, threatening to unleash its fury at any moment. I clutch my abdomen, hoping to calm the uneasy sensation, but it only grows stronger.
My limbs, heavy and unresponsive, seem disconnected from my body as if they belong to someone else entirely. Exhaustion weighs me down, tempting me to surrender to the embrace of sleep, but I fight against it, determined to understand what has happened.
As I force my eyelids open, they feel as though they've been sealed shut for an eternity. Gritty and dry, they protest the light that floods into the unfamiliar room. Blinking rapidly, I try to clear the fog that clouds my vision, but the world remains hazy and distorted.
Gingerly, I lift my head from the pillow and a subtle movement in the corner of the room catches my attention. I open my mouth to call out, but struggle to form any coherent words. My mind is screaming at me, but I’m so disoriented I can’t seem to make sense of anything.
Think, Serena. Think.
Taking a deep breath, I try to center myself. I’m a mafia princess; I’ve been trained for this. Gio’s voice filters into my mind. Start with the where, Serena. Focus on your surroundings.
Blinking to clear the hazy film coating my eyes, I slowly glance around the room. I can tell immediately it's luxuriously decorated, with elegant red and gold accent colors. As I grasp the bedding to push myself up into a seated position, the cotton feels plush and soft under my fingertips. The bed is a king-size, and there are two, what looks to be mahogany nightstands beside it. Plus, a chair and a dresser over in the left-hand corner. Something stops me from chancing a look over toward the opposite corner, though.
Fear, Serena. Fear is what’s stopping you from looking over there.
With trembling hands, I lift the sheet away from my body and realize I’m naked. Determined not to give in to my fear, I press a hand between my legs, and when I pull it away, my fingers are wet. For a brief moment, my eyes shutter closed, then my earlier fear becomes quickly replaced with anger and I scream out, "Oh God. Who are you and what the fuck did you do to me?"
A figure emerges from the shadows. A man, but he doesn’t seem familiar. He’s smartly dressed and he's tall, probably over a foot taller than I am. He steps closer, and I instinctively try to shuffle to the opposite side of the bed. "Now, now, Little Storm, that’s no way to speak to your husband."
"Husband?" Still disoriented and feeling like I'm in a fog, I try to make sense of what he's saying. "I'm not married. Why am I here? What did you do to me, you creep?"
The man looms over me and reaches down, wrapping his hand around my throat and squeezing. "Watch your mouth, Serena. I'd hate to have to punish you this early in our marriage."
As soon as he puts his hand on me, my training kicks in, and I fight like a wildcat against his hold. He remains steadfast, and try as I might, I can't get his hand to loosen its grip. "You have two options, wife . Stop struggling and I will release you. Or fight me and I'll fuck you into submission."
"Did you rape me?"
"Your precious virginity is still intact, if that's what you're wondering."
Ignoring the wave of relief that hits me, I snap back, "Bullshit! Why the hell am I wet down there?"
"I didn't say I didn't play a little."
Oh my God, what did he do to me? My body trembles, but I stay strong. People like this prey on weakness. "You fucking bastard. Let me go."
"Dear pequena tormenta, I'm never letting you go. You are mine now." He releases his grip on my throat and picks up my hand, showing me there is a ring on it. My brows furrow in confusion and an icy chill washes over me.
Swallowing down my fear, I croak out, "Why are you doing this to me?"
The man sits on the bed, and I get a better look at his face. His hair is cut short and black. He looks olive-toned and has dark eyes. They look almost black, and I can tell he's dangerous. That's what scares me the most. He's handsome, like a dark angel, or maybe I should describe him as a devil instead.
"Let me tell you all about why you are here, Little Storm."
That's when I notice he has a Hispanic accent like he's from Mexico or Spain, I'm guessing. The accent would be sexy as hell if I weren't terrified. He's probably going to skin me alive and wear my skin.
The man climbs onto the bed behind me, sits me between his legs, and brushes my hair back from my face. He's so gentle I almost forget he had his hands wrapped around my throat just a few seconds ago. As he takes my chin in his hand, he turns my face to the side so he can look into my eyes. His deep black eyes, like pools of ink, stare at me intensely as he speaks, his gaze unwavering.
"Let me tell you a story, wife."
The man pets my hair again as he talks. It's weird because he's rough one second and gentle the next. It's giving me whiplash.
"I grew up in Columbia. My papa was a cartel leader and with that came a certain lifestyle much like you see men live in the mob. He had many women, but my mother was a good woman. Right up until she was on her deathbed, I thought she’d been faithful to him; I had no idea she had ever been with another man. Mama told me Papa was not my real father. She said an Italian man named Mario Esposito was.”
My heart is pounding and my body trembles as this stranger continues to tell me his story. The heat from his body against my naked back is making me even more uncomfortable, but I need him to be distracted if I have any chance of getting away from him.
"Maybe that's why Papa was so hard on me growing up, or maybe that's just how he was. He raised me to take over his cartel. When I found out my father was here in the States, I came to find him, only to learn that your brothers had killed him. They destroyed my birthright by disassembling his criminal empire and took any chance of me meeting my father away from me. For that, they must pay."
His nostrils flare and the more he tells me, the faster his breathing becomes. Instead of gently running his hands through my hair like he was doing a few moments ago, now he's grabbed a handful of it and is pulling my head back until our eyes meet.
"If my brothers did anything to your father, then he deserved it. They are going to kill you," I say bitterly.
"Your brother's most precious possession is you, my Little Storm. They have kept you pristine for your husband, which I appreciate because I will be the only man who ever gets to touch you. Eventually, they are going to find out who has you, and that's when we are going to let them know you are now my wife. You will help me rebuild what they took away by giving me heirs. Hopefully, by the time they find you, you will be ripe with my child." The gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.
As he moves from behind me, still holding my hair in his hands, I seize the opportunity to catch him off guard and jump out of bed. Ignoring the sting in my scalp, which feels as if he’s torn my hair at the roots, I stumble unsteadily to the door.
Once I make it there, I frantically twist the handle and deflate when I discover it’s locked. That’s probably why the asshole didn't catch me before I reached it.
"Don't bother, Serena. You aren't going anywhere."
"To give you heirs, I'd have to fuck you, and that's never going to happen, asshole," I spit out in a tone that sounds braver than I feel.
He backs me against the door until our bodies are touching and his hands are on either side of my face against the wall.
"Who said you had to be willing? I'm not a good man, Little Storm.” He chuckles and flashes me a wry smile. “In fact, I'm halfway to Hell, so I don't even bother anymore." The mirth in his eyes makes him look handsome, and I immediately hate myself for thinking that.
"My brothers are going to rip you apart and put your body parts in mason jars. You had better let me go now, or you won't live to see another day."
Smiling wider, the man looks amused. "You are quite cute. It's too bad this isn't a marriage built on love because I kind of like you. You are like a hurricane in a tiny package, Little Storm."
"Quit fucking calling me that. I'm not your anything." If I don't get away from him, I'm going to have a heart attack. My palms are sweating, and my head is still pounding.
"I'm going to leave you to calm down and come to your senses. You won't be leaving here, and I've made sure the window is unbreakable. You have a bathroom to shower in, and a closet full of designer clothes. Make yourself at home. Your dinner will be sent up soon."
With that, the man walks over and pulls a key out of his pocket. He uses it to unlock the door and leaves me alone. I check the door to see if by chance he forgot to lock it on his way out, but no such luck.
Then I remember he forgot something. Beating on the door, I scream, "Wait, you forgot to tell me your name."
After hitting the door a few more times, to no avail, I walk around and look for a way out of the room. Adrenaline is coursing through me and waves of frustration take over my body. How dare he fucking lock me in this room?
I've been raised around dangerous men and by them. I'm not backing down. Asshole!
Unable to find a way out, I decide that if he won't let me go, I'm going to make sure he regrets it. I've gained control of my body, and the fog is lifting on my brain. Walking into the bathroom, I notice the tub is a beautiful clawfoot tub. It's deep and has a fancy faucet.
My brows go up at what I notice around me. This suite is equally as luxurious as the bedroom. Plush velvet curtains and gleaming chandeliers decorate the suite. Fresh flowers and polished wood perfume the air. My feet sink into the soft carpet, and it feels like I’m walking on clouds.
Water could do some damage and get his attention. I walk over and put the plug into the bathtub, turning the water on as fast as it will run. Walking to the sink, I do the same, and then I wait.
Within ten minutes, the tub is full, and the sink has been overflowing for several minutes already.
Placing my hands on my hips, I can't help but smile. This motherfucker is gonna learn what it means to fuck around and find out. I refuse to lie down and let him hurt my family. Am I scared? God, yes, I’m petrified, but I also know if he kills me, he loses all his leverage against my family.
My mama didn't raise no little bitch. I am going to fight with everything I have.
I jump up on the bathroom counter and sit, swinging my legs back and forth. The more the water runs, the further out of the bathroom it escapes until the bedroom carpet is soaked. More water just keeps coming.
I hear the door unlock and a woman comes in holding a tray, looking at me with wide eyes. Then, she takes in the immense puddle of water that covers the bedroom floor. "Mr. Esposito,” she calls frantically.
Setting the tray down on the dresser, she runs back out of the bedroom, still calling for the asshole who took me.
My feet splash in the water as I hop down from the counter and stand, arms folded across my body, waiting for the return of Mr. Esposito. And he doesn’t disappoint me because, moments later, he comes running into the room, nostrils flared and waving his arms in the air like a lunatic. Despite trying to scare me, I find him kind of cute.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? You crazy bitch." He spins around, taking in the soaked floor and the flooded bathroom.
Ha. Bet he’s regretting kidnapping me now.
Refusing to show him any fear, I stand my ground. Maybe if he believes I'm crazy, he'll let me go.
"I'd rather be a nutjob than a pervert kidnapper, asshole, but here we are," I respond with a shrug.
The man turns and hurries into the bathroom, and I hear the water cut off.
Storming back from the bathroom, he bends down and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder.
I kick and scream, slapping him on the back. "Put me down, asshole. Let me go."
He reaches around and smacks my butt, causing me to cry out. "You need your ass spanked, little girl."
Realizing I'm still undressed, and that he touched my bare ass, my face heats, but I will not let him know I'm embarrassed, so I keep up the bravado.
"Only a narcissist with Daddy issues would say that, except little do you know I'd probably like it." Showing him a wide smirk and a raised eyebrow, I dare him to fuck with me.
He walks into the room next door and throws me on the bed. Locking the door, I hear him telling his staff to get the other bedroom cleaned up and dried out.
While I'm left alone in the bedroom, I try to look around. Looking for anything I can use as a weapon or even a way out. Since they put me in a spare bedroom, there's much less in here to look through. A closet. Not much else aside from the bed and a dresser. Searching through the drawers, I find a pair of men’s sweatpants and a T-shirt and hastily put them on. They are huge on me, but I roll down the pants to make them work.
A little while later, one of his men brings in another tray of food. "Boss said you had better eat."
"Or what?" I challenge with a saccharine smile. Am I trying to flirt with my captor's men? Fuck yes, I am!
Walking up close to him, I place my head on his chest and giggle like an airheaded bimbo. "If you help me get out of here, I can make you much happier than your boss can." For effect, I add a wink.
All I hear from down the hall is a crash, as if someone is throwing something up against the wall, followed by a huge, growly "FUCK."
I can't contain my laughter. Sounds like the asshole heard, which means he has cameras in the bedrooms. Serves the dirtbag right for messing with the wrong woman.