6. Aurora
Chapter 6
Aurora
W ith my eyes covered, my other senses are heightened as I sit in the room I’ve been brought to. There’s a strong damp smell, mixed with a hint of metallic that could only come from the spilling of blood, and a haunting chill to the air that sets me on edge.
I think I’m alone, but I haven’t had the courage to bring myself to move, just in case. Surely, if I wasn’t, someone would have made themselves known by now? It feels like hours since I was unceremoniously dumped in here.
Hesitantly, I test to see if my theory of being alone is true, twisting and pulling at the tape Romeo used to restrain me before we left my apartment. I hiss out a breath when the tape pulls at the hairs on my wrists.
I’ve barely moved before footsteps sound in the hallway and I freeze. Fuck . I should have removed the blindfold when I had a chance. The sound of a key turning in the lock echoes around me, and a shiver races down my spine at the unknown. Goosebumps break out over my exposed skin and I shift in the uncomfortable metal seat.
Okay, whoever it is, is going to come in and do whatever they have planned for me. All I can do is fight like hell. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. One. Two. Three. Four. Box breathing . My therapist taught me the technique as a way to focus and relieve stress after my mom died. It does little to ease me now. In fact, breathing in the stale air does nothing but make me feel nauseous.
My heart races as the true reality of my circumstances dawns on me. Back in my apartment, I had a sense of bravado that came from knowing my surroundings and hoping that whatever he had planned would be over quickly. Here, I don’t know how long he’s going to drag this out for, how much my body can handle, or if he’ll be the only one.
I should have fought more .
Who am I kidding? I should have fought, period.
I’ve been submissive and gone along with whatever he’s demanded. What’s worse is that I can’t say why that is. From his first command, I’ve been his puppet. Doing whatever he demands, and for what? So I can be used and abused until my final breath? I don’t think so . I’m ashamed of myself for being a coward. This isn’t how I was raised.
The door creaks as it’s pushed open, and I listen intently, tracking his movements. Much like back at my apartment, I sense that it’s him as soon as he crosses the threshold. My mind and body are attuned to his presence in a way they have no right to be.
A weighted, tense air fills the room, pulling any oxygen into its bubble and making it hard to breathe. There can only be two reasons for him being here. Either he’s going to put me out of my misery—which isn’t likely, considering he could have done that at my apartment—or he’s going to get started on making those threats he made earlier a reality.
I wait for him to make a move. To say something. But when the only sound is the heaviness of my own breathing and the blood rushing in my ears, my brows tug together.
Am I imagining that he’s here?
Have I lost my mind?
I push myself to focus, listening intently for any sign of him. He appears in my mind like a picture. His hands touching my body. His breath on my neck. His warmth wrapped around me. I clench my thighs, my body taunting me at the faint memory of his skin on mine. A pool of warmth floods me, and I bite down on the soft flesh inside my mouth in an attempt to keep my body in check.
What is wrong with me? I tense, my whole body turning to stone. There’s no way in hell that I am attracted to… to a mob boss . I clench my fists, determined to remain defiant and not make this any easier for him than I already have.
I shiver when he picks up my bound hands. The contact of his skin on mine is unexpected and yet that warmth from moments ago only intensifies. I could lie and pretend that my body’s reaction is because he took me by surprise, but we both know that has nothing to do with it.
Holding my breath, I push down the feelings bubbling beneath the surface and wait for his next move. The brutal contact of his fist or the press of his gun against my temple. Now more than ever, I wish I’d taken off the blindfold. So I could observe him and show him, with my eyes, that I’m not afraid. Instead, I jut out my chin in the direction I think he’s standing and show him with my body language how unafraid I am.
The relief I feel is palpable when the tape that was binding my wrists is released. I soothe the skin that I’m certain is red and marked. Romeo removes the blindfold next, his touch surprisingly soft. Blinking, my eyes adjust to the brightness of the room before settling on him. He stuffs the material in his pocket as he stares down at me. His face is covered in shadows created by the dim light of the room, but it does little to hide the handsome contours.
“You’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future. There’s a shower, toilet, and basin for you to wash up in and you’ll be sent three meals a day. Whether or not you eat them is up to you. We’re going to take some pictures later, so get cleaned up. I’ll be back in a few hours.” His tone is a cocktail of frustration and boredom, as if he’d rather be anywhere than standing in front of me.
My voice comes out as a croak, and I clear my throat. “Are there cameras in here?” If this room is used for what I think it is, they must have a camera, even if it’s hidden.
“Yes.”
The finality in that one word has my body collapsing back into the chair as Romeo turns his back to me and leaves the room. The sound of the key turning in the lock serves as a reminder of my current predicament. My eyes sting as I look around.
There’s not much to see. Gray cinder block walls surround me—I’m guessing the room is soundproof. A dim, bare light bulb gently swings overhead, casting the room in shadow. The floor slopes into the center, where a drain sits directly below the chair I’m seated in. In one corner is a cot and in another is the shower and toilet. If I wasn’t so accepting of death, I’d be grateful that I’ve been granted a few more moments of life; even if it’s in a room as gloomy as this one.
On unsteady legs, I stand from the chair and move to the cot. A blanket is folded up at the bottom of it, with some basic toiletries on top. Ha . A five-star experience . I reach out to pick up a bottle of shower gel before dropping my arm back to my side. Like running full force into a wall, I’m hit with the enormity of my situation. I’m a prisoner, trapped in a cell with no escape.
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I turn in a circle. There isn’t a hope of me making it out of this room without a fight. There are no windows and the door is the only way in or out. My brow furrows as I chew over what Romeo said moments ago. “We’re going to take some pictures later, so get cleaned up. I’ll be back in a few hours . ”
Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Bianchi, but we don’t always get what we want. I won’t be getting cleaned up and I sure as hell won’t be taking any pictures with you. Why does he need me to be cleaned up? Surely it would look better if I was disheveled and dirty? His whole plan makes no sense. First, the show for the camera at my apartment and now…
It’s like a light being switched on. He wants to make it look like we’re together . I’m sure he thinks that my father will be so incensed that he’ll come out of hiding and try to track me down. It’ll be the perfect ruse to lure him to his inevitable death. Except Romeo didn’t plan for me to not go along with his plan. He’s going to kill me either way, and I’ll be damned if I do as he demands. I won’t be used like that.
You don’t have much choice, Aurora .
Yes, I do . I’m a person. I have a say in what I do or don’t do. And Romeo Bianchi has no control over me.
Turning back to the bed, I sweep the toiletries onto the floor. They land with a clatter, echoing around the room. I lower myself onto the brown-stained mattress, curling into the fetal position. With my back to the room, my eyes trace over the cracks in the wall and the faint scratch marks of past prisoners before I close them, shutting out my surroundings. I blow out a breath and force my body to relax, hoping that with a little sleep, the dull throb behind my eyes will be gone. Even if the rest of my problems and reminders of the day I’ve had are still there when I wake up.