Chapter 7
Fuck,my head hurts.
I brought a hand to my head and willed the pounding to stop before slowly opening my eyes.
But it wasn’t my ceiling I was looking at.
And then all the memories came flooding back—the hood over my face, the sickeningly sweet smell that invaded my nostrils, and then the utter darkness that consumed me.
And that voice that still had the ability to send a chill down my spine even now.
So where the fuck am I?
I tried to not make any sudden movements as I did my best to look at my surroundings without fully sitting up. I was in a beautifully designed room, shades of purple and gray everywhere. A stone fireplace with bookshelves on either side and a chaise next to it. It rivaled even my room at home.
Wherever I was, it was clear I wasn’t being treated poorly as far as accommodations went. As long as that meant no more hoods over my face or aromas that made me pass out.
A slice of terror went through me because no matter how beautiful these surroundings may be, they were unfamiliar. The unfamiliarity of these surroundings caused a slice of terror to go through me. I had grown so used to the layout of my life and this sudden change in my routine unsettled me. I felt scared for the first time about something that had nothing to do with my husband.
I did my best to look down at myself and saw I was still wearing the same nightgown and covered in a soft, comfortable knit blanket. At least whoever the fuck had taken me hostage was treating me reasonably.
Is that really one of my first thoughts about my current predicament? Fuck, Jude really has ruined me.
Leave it to me to always be seeking goodness in a situation, no matter how shitty it seemed.
As my mind flashed to Jude, I wondered what must have gone through his mind when I didn’t come downstairs this morning.
I’m sure he was furious at thinking I defied him for once. When I got back to his house, he’d probably try to blame this on me too, as if getting kidnapped was my fault.
I felt like I was getting ahead of myself, assuming I was going to be back at his house so soon. I had no idea what my captors had planned for me. They could keep me here indefinitely or seek revenge by killing me for something my family or my husband had done. There was no telling what kind of shitstorm I’d gotten myself in now.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I almost didn’t recognize the man sleeping soundly in the chair next to me. I took a cautious moment to take in his features and realized I knew him.
The tousled dark brown hair, the first few buttons on the top of his white dress shirt, undone. Sleeves rolled up to reveal his assortment of ink. Some of the tattoos he displayed looked like it had faded over the years, and some even looked brand new. He had a rose on the top of his right hand, surrounded by smaller roses, and random tattoos of various kinds scattered over his arms, and even some on his fingers. I could see a tattoo on his forearm, a plain script that read: Survivor of all my scars.
I never knew I”d be a woman attracted to tattoos, but this man made them work in a deliciously dangerous sort of way.
Just imagine how his tattooed hands would look around?—
You are a pathetically horny woman.
I shooed away the intrusion of my dirty thoughts and took inventory of the rest of the man in front of me.
One hand supported his head, and the other was holding a Glock.
Kade Luchetti, ladies and gentlemen.
He looked so peaceful as he slept, his breaths rolling through his body evenly, as if he wasn’t a monster.
Even though he’d kidnapped me from my home in the dark of the night, I still couldn’t help but remember how he’d first looked at me when our eyes met at the table. How pity had sliced through them before his stony resolve slipped back into place. Something deep within me tingled and ached to be closer to him and to know all the secrets he kept locked away behind those stormy eyes.
I didn’t know the reasoning yet, but there was a slight chance that Kade saw me for the first time and decided to take me for his own personal vendetta, that had nothing to do with his family.
And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder what repercussions he and his family were facing by taking me captive. I also couldn’t help but feel grateful in the same breath to be out of that house, no matter how short of a time it may be. Which sounded so pathetic and ridiculous that I wanted to smack my heart for being such a pitiful bitch to the first bit of twisted kindness someone had shown me in years.
I’d never met Kade before last night, but I’d heard enough of the tales of the Luchetti brothers, and of their heartless and vicious father, Matthias. It had taken everything in me last night sitting at that dining room table not to gasp at how Lilah spoke to the entire family. It’s like she was asking for a death wish. I had no idea what power she assumed the Canellas held over the Luchettis, if there was even any at all. But regardless, she was playing a dangerously lethal game. And their games were ones I wanted no part of.
But now I had no choice in the matter. I was stuck right in the middle of it all.
Kade moved slightly, stirring in the chair, causing the gun to twitch.
Watch. It would be my luck I’d get fucking shot while he was sleeping.
Pretending I was still asleep, I laid back down, like I’d never woken up or seen him at all. I slowed my breathing and heard him move around, the sound of his fingers scratching his stubble on his cheeks the only sound.
I opened my eyes ever so slightly, peeking through my lids, and saw him tucking the gun into his waistband before picking up the chair and moving it back by the fireplace. I squeezed my eyes shut again before he realized I was awake and didn’t open them again until I heard the door click behind him and the lock slide into place.
Another tower I now belong to.
I didn’t know why I felt such a fascination with this man, considering my history with mafia men, but something about him called to me.
The question was, would I answer that call?
I hadn’t realizedit until I opened my eyes again that I’d fallen back asleep. I only knew because Kade stood leaning against my wall, as if he’d been waiting for an eternity for me to wake up.
“Good morning, princess, or should I say evening?” He said in a way of greeting, and it took but a moment before I realized his voice was the same I’d heard when I was being kidnapped from my bed.
A sadness hit my chest at the way he said princess. I had been too out of it when he’d called me that the first time, but now hearing it come from his lips only reminded me of my father.
It was what he’d always called me and nobody had used that nickname for me since.
“Evening?” I asked, ignoring the nostalgic sadness in my chest, my voice hoarser than I expected it to be.
“You’ve slept the entire day away. Sleeping like the dead,” he replied. “You didn’t even stir when the housekeeper knocked on your door for meals.”
My stomach grumbled in response, making me well aware of how hungry I currently was.
My drugged state, lack of peaceful sleep, and stress had caused me to go into a long overdue sleep that trumped needing to feed myself. I hadn’t felt this recharged in my life.
“Is it already past dinner time?” I asked, almost afraid to feel any more vulnerable in his presence. I’d gone without food for extended periods of time before, thanks to my husband’s negative opinion about my figure. So I wasn’t sure what to expect in response to my question, fully prepared to go to bed hungry.
“I’m afraid so. The cook has gone home for the night,” he replied. My face fell, and I could tell by the expression of pity on his face that he caught it. I internally berated myself for showing him my vulnerability, and seeming so weak in front of him. But I was so fucking tired of being strong all the time when I didn’t always need to be.
“But I’m sure there’s something we could scrounge up,” Kade said, in a surprisingly reassuring tone, as if he ate late night snacks all the time. He walked towards me, quickly closing the gap between us, before holding out his hand for me to grab.
I hesitantly put my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his scarred and calloused hands.
“This way,” Kade said in a tone that left no room for argument. I could tell he was doing it in a way to make me feel more comfortable, which shocked me to my core. What did he get out of being nice to me? Was he just doing it because he felt bad for me, or was he genuinely kind behind his monster mask?
I didn’t know which reasoning would be worse, nor had I expected such a gentleness to someone of his caliber, and it threw my brain entirely out of whack.
Every single story I’d ever heard of him painted him as a monster, but I should know better than to judge someone based on what someone else had said.
I stood up, feeling lightheaded from the lack of food, swaying on my feet slightly. Kade put his hand on my elbow, steadying me in a heartbeat. His fingertips felt like fire against my skin, and I tugged my arm away from reflex and instinct.
“I never knew a member of the Mafia could be such a gentleman.” I quipped, doing anything to kill the awkward tension I felt spreading throughout the room at my reaction to his touch.
I didn’t know what the fuck to do or how to act around him or these strange feelings I had.
“Be careful, princess. I can be anything you want me to be,” He warned, a wicked smile lacing his features. “What would you like me to be? Someone who loses his gentle touch?”
Against my better judgment, I could have melted right on the spot at his words, and the potential underlying meaning of them. I was a married woman… technically. But I’d be wrong to deny the need that pooled in my belly to see just how non-gentle this man before me could be.
But again, a voice inside my head warned against it.
For once, woman, use your brains instead of your vagina.
No matter how his touch may make me feel, positive or not, I didn’t know if it was something I was willing to find out more about—especially not anytime soon.
I had already been handed over to one monster against my will. I didn’t know if I would survive finding out I’d fallen into a trap for a second time in my life.
I squashed the inappropriate feelings into a tiny, manageable box and flung them into the darkest parts of my heart where I hoped they wouldn’t bother resurfacing again.
“I don’t think what I want truly matters here,” I finally said, realizing he was staring at me and waiting for a response.
He seemed to ponder my words for only a moment before he replied. “What you want should always matter.”
Damn this man and his words.
“Not in this life, it doesn’t,” I scoffed before stepping out of the bedroom door after him, determined to keep my resolve about me and keep that box inside hidden.
We madeour way down the obscenely large staircase before moving into the kitchen, his hand never letting go of my own. He was catering to me as if he was afraid I may run away—which wasn’t entirely out of the question I suppose.
But what exactly would I be running back to? An abusive husband who gave me a room all to myself and never slept in the same bed with me even after we had sex? Yes, let me just skip merrily on my way back to that shit show.
Kade wordlessly led me to the island in the middle of his beautifully gigantic kitchen, and I scooted myself onto a bar stool and watched him search through the fridge and the cabinets.
I heard a low chuckle come from him before he pulled out a box from the pantry.
It took me a moment before I realized what he was holding in his hand.
A box of Kraft mac and cheese?
Now I understood the chuckle. Boxed mac and cheese would be the last thing I’d expect to find in the cabinets of a Mafia member too. But here we are, late in the evening and making mac and cheese.
I hadn’t had boxed mac and cheese since I was a child, and it threw me headfirst back into that nostalgic feeling and conjured up memories of my beloved father.
As Kade prepped the kitchen, bringing the water to a boil on the stove, I diligently watched him work. I found it was hard not to get lost in the gracefulness of the way he did things. The way he moved, even doing the smallest of things, was full of intention. I’m sure he had years of practice. Have to be stealthy on your feet in his profession, I assume.
I watched this heartless man make me a meal, and my heart betrayed me despite my best efforts. Because nobody had ever done something like this since my dad died. I don”t think anyone had actually taken care of me since then. I’d had to pick myself and all the broken pieces up and try to tape them back together the best I could.
He was making it harder and harder to stuff things down and not make my heart yearn for him, and I’d only just met him.
And here he was, bringing glue to the fight and piecing me back together without even knowing it.