Chapter 5
RILEY
After a half hour of pacing and wondering how on earth I could escape this situation, I was too exhausted to stay awake and fight it.
I shucked my jacket and shoes and curled into a ball on this lumpy bed to crash out and dreamed of waking to find the dead man from my trunk putting me on trial for his murder.
Let me tell you—not a good dream to have.
With the light coming in the window now past dawn, I see the room isn't all bad, and the reason for the lumpy bed is a thick sash strewn across it for decoration.
I was so tired, I never even pulled the covers over my body.
Now the burgundy bedspread is wrinkled and dips in the center where I slept hard.
The house is quiet, though. I don't hear any noises at all other than the faint whisper of the central air pushing heat into the room.
Even outside is quiet too, which doesn't surprise me.
As I look out the window, pushing myself up, I see large, thick snowflakes falling and sticking.
Traffic is always muted by a blanket of snow over the city.
My head is still cluttered with a lot of "what if" questions.
Whoever Rafe is, he seems to have a lot of people working for him, and that often means money and power.
He made it clear he's a Ferretti, and anyone who knows anything about the West Side knows the Ferrettis control everything here.
But if he was the real man in charge, I'd have heard his name before. I'm sure of it.
My legs drape across the side of the bed and brush my duffel bag, dropped there before I started my pacing last night.
My shoes lie beside it, my coat across the corner of the bed.
I'm chilled, and my stomach is rumbling.
If I can't get out of here, this man is going to have to get me coffee at the very least. I don’t need a splitting headache from lack of caffeine.
As it stands, my head is already starting to feel tight.
And I wonder what my family is doing right now.
Lila may not have even checked her email yet.
They've probably already tried my phone multiple times. I promised Dad I’d check in every hour or so to keep them updated on my progress through the night knowing there'd be snowfall.
I'm not sure how Rafe thinks he'll get away with this when I spoke to my family just a few days ago to confirm plans.
No way I'd ever shift gears like that so suddenly.
They know it and I know it, so as I slide my feet into my sneakers and put my jacket back on, I stand with a bit more confidence knowing my family is going to look for me.
I won’t do anything that will make Rafe think I'm disobeying him, because he'll hurt Lila or any number of my family members.
But that doesn't mean Karma can't just work behind the scenes.
When I manage to summon the courage to pick up my duffel bag and walk into the living room, hoping I'm alone and I can just walk out the front door, I see Mr. Rafe Ferretti seated at his desk with his laptop open and a mug of coffee next to him, steaming its delicious aroma into the air.
It simultaneously makes me groan in frustration and my mouth water.
He looks up at me as I stalk out and drop my bag by the end of the sectional.
"Good morning, Ms. Maddox. Did you sleep well?" The chair squeaks as he rotates the seat around to face me, and he calmly crosses one leg over the other as he nudges the coffee with one finger an inch closer in my direction.
"Do you think I'd sleep well in this house when I know you'll murder my family if I complain?" I'm snarky and I don't even care. He's the one who's kept me locked up overnight. He can deal with my morning attitude. If he doesn't want me to be moody, he should let me go.
My sneakers slap the floor as I walk over and pick up the coffee. From this angle I can see he has a second mug, half-empty, next to him on the other side of the computer. It appears he's been working here for a little while, though this mug is still steaming. Maybe he expected me to wake up?
"Well, I attempted to make your stay as comfortable as was reasonably possible, given the situation. I hope you were warm enough…"
"Cut the crap, Ferretti," I grunt before taking a long swig of the hot coffee. It's not hot enough to burn, which tells me it's been sitting probably about ten minutes. Just the way I like it, too, which makes me that much more salty with the man. I don't want to enjoy any part of this.
Rafe chuckles and gestures at the sectional as he picks up his coffee and starts to stand. "What crap? I'm trying to be hospitable."
I'm seething already. I never wake up on the wrong side of the bed. But then, I've never woken up being someone else's prisoner before, either. So there's a first time for everything.
"You're putting on some sort of act to make me think you're this nice guy when I see right through it.
" I follow him, stalking to the end of the couch closest to my bag while Rafe waits for me to settle.
Then he sits one cushion away from me, leaving a respectable distance.
"Just tell me what the fuck I have to do so I can get it over with and go home. "
"Oh, I thought we could chat for a moment first…
Get to know one another better." Rafe runs a cool hand through his tousled hair and the hem of his T-shirt rides up, exposing bronze skin and a hint of more ink there on his midriff.
My eyes don't miss a thing, and I hate my body for feeling warmer now because of it.
"Do I need to know things about you to do this job?" I steal my eyes away, drinking more of the coffee to keep myself from drooling. He may be a criminal and a sadistic son of a bitch, but he's damn good looking.
"Well, no, but it may help your motivation.
And I find it helps a working relationship if you take the time to know who you're working with.
" The way he relaxes against the back of the sofa, stretching his arm out almost close enough to touch me, has his body lengthened out.
One leg drapes over the other casually and his shoulders angle toward me.
He looks so at ease, so calm, like we're old friends visiting and not a crime lord and his captive.
"I'm not working for you. You are forcing me to do a job, and then I'm going home." I have less confidence about that fact now than I did twenty minutes ago, but I still say it as firmly as I can.
"Well, if you're not in the mood to chat, then we could get down to business.
" He finishes the mug of coffee and sets it on the coffee table, then resumes his casual posture. This time, his hand splays on the cushion between us and I see no ring. My God, what the fuck is wrong with me? Now I’m noticing his marital status too?
As if it means anything or changes anything for me.
"Good," I croak as I wrangle my thoughts back into alignment with my purpose. "What sort of shit do I have to do for you to get you off my back?" I sigh hastily and glance at the computer and notice his eyes track my movement.
"Well," he says, getting up. He crosses to the computer and waves me over, patting the seat before wiggling the mouse to wake the computer up. "Mr. Lombardi always did a fantastic job of managing my finances for me. Until recently, he was the only one I trusted.
"But he proved to me a few weeks ago that he was not who he said he was.
Now I'm up against a deadline for end of year financials and I find he's not done my work since March.
I have almost nine months of ledgers to straighten up, or maybe even create, and I have no one to do it.
On top of that, the ledgers he does have are still missing. "
Rafe's expression is hard as he looks up at me, and I slowly make my way over to the computer.
"I am just a bank teller. I don't know how to do all of this stuff.
" I know that's only partly true. Given my high scores in my college classes and the fact that I'm almost done with my degree, I know more than I'm letting on, but I don't feel confident doing it.
I have no real-world experience, anyway.
"It's not so difficult, now, is it?" He spins the chair around, and I plant my ass in it, then find that he manhandles it until I'm facing his computer, setting my coffee down.
"You need an analyst, not a basic teller.
" The numbers in columns on his screen seem jumbled.
Maybe I'm just too tired, or maybe it's the stress of it all, but I'm no fool.
This isn't child's play. This is literally the Mob's finances.
If I fuck this up, they'll kill me. And if I want to walk away after I've seen all the bullshit they pull, they'll never let it happen.
In fact, just sitting here seeing this may put me in the wrong spot.
"I, uh…" I turn to stand up and Rafe plants his firm hand on my shoulder, pinning me down.
"Look at it, Riley. I need your help… Come on," he coaxes, "be a good girl.
" Rafe's hand slides across my shoulder, tucking my hair behind my back, and his finger snags in a tangle, inadvertently pulling a strand of hair.
It forces my head back, sends a jolt of pain down my neck and back, and my God if I could control my body, that'd be nice.
My eyes stare up at his as he hovers over me with a sly grin. "I can't do this," I mutter, his finger still tangled in my hair while he looks down at me.
Any other day.
Any other circumstance, and I'd be begging him to fist my hair and tell me what a very good girl I am.
But this isn't the time or place for that sort of thing.
So why is my body pretending it's okay to turn to Jell-O?