8. Chloe
Chapter 8
Chloe
I ’m already hatching my escape plan as I sit between the Adonis and his lackey in the back of the limousine, being taken to God only knows where. Surely, he can’t watch me twenty-four-seven.
Even though my father got me into this mess, I’m sick with worry. He won’t last a week without me.
The disability pension he gets from the government is measly at best. I barely even got time to say goodbye, but the moment my dad wrapped me tightly in his arms, I did something I hadn’t done in many years. I wept like a baby.
I wasn’t allowed to bring anything with me either … except my handbag: no clothes or shoes. My feet are still bare.
The dick said I wouldn’t be needing them. Is he going to chain my naked body to a bed and make me his sex slave? Although I’ve already slept with this man, the thought of being with him in that way again now repulses me.
When he led me back to my room, I left my handbag on the bed, only reaching inside to grab my purse, which contained my driver’s license and key card. The cash I’d put aside for rent and the electricity bill was still hidden inside the false lining. He would also need my phone since we don’t have a landline.
Thankfully, I was able to whisper that to my father as I hugged him for what was hopefully not the last time. I can only pray he is sensible with the money and doesn’t blow it on his habit. Who knows if or when I’ll be able to send him more?
The thought of never seeing him again weighed heavily on my heart as I was marched outside to the car like some criminal.
It felt like I was being led to the gallows.
Maybe I should’ve put my hand up and opted for the bullet instead; it would’ve been a quicker and far less painful death.
When we finally arrive at my prison, I’m unsurprised to find it’s a mega-mansion. I lived in a neighbourhood just like this once.
This man reeks of money and power. What does perturb me, though, are the intricate, fancy eight-foot wrought iron gates at the entrance, manned by a security gatehouse, and the equally high, double brick wall that appears to surround the expansive property.
Escaping isn’t going to be as easy as I first thought.
Thankfully, I’m not someone who gives up easily. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Technically, I’ve just been kidnapped, even if I was pressured into agreeing to come with him. He can’t keep me here forever, can he?
My employers will surely inquire about my whereabouts when I’m a continual no-show, especially at the accounting firm. They know my worth. I’ve been there for over ten years and can count on one hand how many days I’ve had off during that time.
I inherited my father’s genius and love of numbers, so when my life began to unravel, I dropped out of school, went to TAFE full-time for one year, and got a Certificate IV in Accountancy and Bookkeeping while bussing tables at night to help make ends meet.
When the gates open, we continue down the driveway, and that sinking feeling returns when the car pulls to a stop at the front of the house. I don’t know what to expect once I get inside, but I’m gathering nothing good.
I’ve already counted five men on the grounds of the premises since we’ve driven through the gate. That does not include the three inside this car. Who knows how many more are inside the house? Am I going to be passed around? That thought makes me want to hurl.
Is this what my life will be like from now on? Being a plaything for a horde of suit-wearing men? This morning, I honestly thought things couldn’t possibly get worse. How wrong I was.
The driver gets out and opens Alexander’s door first, and once he’s exited the car, he turns and reaches for my hand. Is he kidding right now? He’s just forcibly taken me from my home at gunpoint, and he wants to act chivalrous? What a hypocrite.
I level him with a look that hopefully tells him I don’t want his filthy paws on me, and when he smirks like a smug motherfucker, I’m confident he got the message loud and clear.
Hesitantly, I step out of the vehicle, and when his hand rests on the small of my back, I flinch away as if I’ve been burned.
He chuckles as he grasps my upper arm, forcibly leads me up the stairs, and leans in to whisper, “I like a challenge, bella .”
I speak fluent Italian—thanks to my mother—so I know he just called me beautiful, and I hate how much I like that.
I take in my surroundings as I stand in the elaborate foyer at the base of the large staircase that leads upstairs. I’ll need an intimate layout of this place if I plan on escaping.
One noticeable difference between his home and the penthouse suite he took me to that first night, is that this place is far less gaudy.
His home is modern, with sleek lines that embody minimalist elegance and sophistication. Its clean, streamlined architecture features sharp angles and smooth surfaces that emphasise simplicity.
The large windows along the front of the facade invite plenty of natural light in, creating an open, airy atmosphere. The combination of glass, steel, and concrete adds to its contemporary feel. The overall design is uncluttered and, dare I say, impressive.
I side-eye him and feel my cheeks heat when I realise he’s been watching me the entire time.
“I’m just taking inventory for when I plan my escape.”
My comment earns me another one of his devastating smiles that has the breath hitching in my throat. I can’t believe after everything this man has put me through today, my inner hoe still reacts to him.
“Good luck with that,” he retorts like a smug bastard.
I respond by narrowing my eyes, making it clear I’m unimpressed—not just with him, but with this whole ordeal.
Today, he showed me exactly the type of person he is: dangerous and ruthless. And although a large part of me is petrified of what is to come, I refuse to let him see that I’m scared. Showing your weakness to others gives them ammunition to use against you.
With that thought in mind, I reach for the top button of my blouse. “Let’s get this over with,” I say.
He arches an eyebrow when I move to the second button. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Undressing. You brought me here under coercion so you could forcibly have your way with me … so let’s get this over with.”
I untuck the blouse from my skirt as he silently observes me. When the last button is undone, I slide my shoulders back, letting the fabric slip down my arms until it gathers in a pool at my feet.
We were the only two to enter the house. Did he previously instruct the others to wait outside? Or is kidnapping women something he does regularly?
He takes a step towards me, invading my personal space, sending a shiver coursing down my spine. For fuck’s sake, I need to get this body of mine under control.
“Is that what you want, Chloe? Me to fuck you?”
“It’s the last thing I want, but something tells me you’ll take what you want anyway.”
“I have never forced myself on anyone, and I don’t plan to start now. I’m going to enjoy wearing you down, though, and when I do, you’ll be begging for my cock.”
“Ha! When hell freezes over.”
“Never say never, bella ,” he utters, reaching up to skim the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, dragging it down as he goes. “And when that day comes, I’m going to kiss these plump fucking lips of yours, and you’re going to love it.”
I gulp air into my lungs as his hand falls away from my face, and he steps back. He bends down, scooping my top off the floor and thrusts it into my chest. “Stop embarrassing yourself and get dressed; we’re not alone.”
How can he go from panty-melting sexy in one second to an obnoxious pig the next?
“Carmella,” he calls out as I angrily shove my arms into the sleeves of my blouse and hastily redo the buttons.
A minute later, a short, middle-aged woman enters the foyer. Her long black hair, which is greying at the sides, is pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She’s wearing a simple, knee-length, loose-fitting shift dress paired with rounded-toe, black leather, boxed heeled pumps. The white apron tied around her waist tells me she must be his housekeeper.
She’s obviously not his mother since he so callously told me she had died.
“Mr Mancini,” she says with a nod before focusing her attention on me. “I see our guest has arrived.”
Guest? Prisoner would be a better choice of words.
“Carmella, this is Chloe.” She gives me a sweet smile that instantly has my scowl dropping away. “Can you show her to her room? Ensure you lock the door behind you when you leave.”
With that, he abruptly turns on his heels and stalks up the stairs, and I swear, if my eyeballs were daggers, he’d drop right where he stands.