Chapter 13
CHIARA
I haven’t slept at all. My eyelids ache, and my body feels as though I need a pound of caffeine just to function. When I do end up sleeping, I know I’m going to crash.
I glance around the expansive bedroom, looking for a clock, but there is none. The room is more like three bedrooms in a regular house. I wonder how huge this place is. By the looks of this room, I’m sure it’s massive.
There’s nothing in here besides a nightstand, a flat-screen TV that takes up three-quarters of the wall, and the armchair he was on. Oh, and the bed holding me hostage, of course. Can’t forget that.
I wish he’d tell me what this is about. I need to know so I can somehow convince him I’m on his side.
That won’t be much of a stretch. Under normal circumstances, I’d never consider helping my captor, but we’re not in normal circumstances.
My father is a scumbag who hurts people whenever it benefits him.
I’m sure he did something awful to this man.
If helping him means I can get out of here alive, then I’ll do whatever the hell he wants.
The door jolts, and my body goes into alert, my pulse racing within my neck. I try to sit up, but I keep sliding down.
With a creak, the door parts, and in walks the man of my dreams and nightmares, carrying a tray. He’s changed, now wearing a dark blue button-down rolled up one side, exposing a tanned arm without tattoos, unlike his other.
A gray tie sits obediently over his neck, matching his gray slacks. He exudes powerful masculinity and all the things I crave in a man. Too bad that man decided to be a psycho. Figures those are the types I’d be most attracted to.
He lays the tray down on the nightstand beside me. “Slept well?”
“No. I didn’t,” I say with a glare, the words rushing out from behind gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry my hotel is unsatisfactory. I hope we don’t get a bad Yelp review.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He chuckles. “So much. You have no idea.”
“You live here alone?” I dive right into getting more information.
“Why? Want to move in?” He bathes my body with a smoldering gaze. “You do look good on my bed.”
“Not even if you paid me.” After a few seconds of silence, I speak up again. “You’re as bad as him. Do you realize that?”
His brow wrinkles in question. “Who?”
“My father. Who else?”
His nostrils flare, and his breaths fall harshly out of his lungs. “I’m nothing like him.”
“No? Could’ve fooled me. You kidnap me, tie me up, treat me like a savage.”
“We could look at it that way. But I haven’t actually hurt you, have I?
” He lifts the top off the tray, and the whiff of sweet goodness hits my nostrils.
“And as you can see, I’ve brought you a cappuccino and a tray full of berry-filled crepes and some bagels.
I know for a fact that your father doesn’t treat you that way, let alone his victims.”
That part stings. Knowing that a stranger knows my father treats me badly is more embarrassing than I’ll ever admit out loud.
“Bringing me food doesn’t make you a good guy. You’re still holding me against my will.”
“I am, and I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not. And like I said earlier, you won’t be harmed. Not unless you don’t behave.” His lips wind into a sneer, causing my insides to twist right along with them.
“Children are told to behave,” I fight back. “I’m a grown woman.”
He lets out a deep laugh. “I like that little fire inside you, but it’s useless here, I’m afraid.”
My gaze lands on his, and the comeback I had planned in response vanishes from the ravenous way he looks at me. It’s like he does one thing, but his eyes say another.
I swallow down the weighty lump in my throat, finding it hard to tear my gaze away.
He grips the back of his neck, his lids drifting to a close for such a quick second, I’m not sure if he actually did it.
Picking up the tray, he sits beside me and cuts off a piece of crepe with a fork.
“Open your mouth,” he demands as the hand holding the fork nears my mouth.
I shake my head, refusing to eat this way, being fed while tied up. Hell no.
“Eat. Now.” His eyes flare with anger.
“No.” I glare right back.
He pushes the fork in a little. “I wasn’t asking. I said eat.”
“And I said no,” I mutter as bits of crepe land in my mouth, and I spit them out. “Not when you still have me bound like this!” I yank my wrist. “Untie me.”
He roughly drops the fork onto the tray, and it clatters loudly while his hand simultaneously lands on the back of my head, his palm harshly fisting my hair.
“This is not some fucking negotiation, Chiara. Stop fighting me. It will go a lot better for you if you do.”
I clench my jaw, my gaze battling with his. “I’ve been around men far scarier than you. You’re nothing.”
He drops his hand. “Fine.” He stands, picking up the tray. “You want to kill yourself? Go ahead. Starve.”
“If I’m dead, so is your bargaining chip,” I say. “It’s why you have me here, isn’t it?”
“If you’re dead, I’ll serve your head on a silver platter to your daddy. You have no idea why you’re here, and believe me, you don’t want to know. So go ahead, baby, make it harder on yourself.”
“I’m not your baby.”
“Okay, not baby.” His shoulders rock with a small laugh. “You have ten seconds to decide if you want me to feed you or I’m leaving. There will be no food until later.”
“Fuck you!” I spit out.
“Suit yourself.”
Then he strolls back out of the room.
His words play over and over in my head, making me wonder why I’m actually here to begin with.
The sound of the door opening jars me out of sleep.
Wait? I fell asleep? Shit.
I should’ve tried harder to stay awake. I can’t trust my safety to that man who’s walking back in with the same damn tray in his hands.
I refuse to accept anything from him. He can shove that food up his tight, round ass.
“I’ve come to see if you’re hungry enough that you’ve lost that stubbornness.” His voice drifts closer.
My stomach growls, as though on cue.
Damn traitor.
I turn my face away, staring off to the side.
He groans, lowering himself onto the bed beside me. “You’re going to make me damn crazy the whole time you’re here, aren’t you?”
I peer over at him again, popping a brow, the corner of my mouth twisting upward. “Pretty much.”
He sucks in a breath. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”
I shrug my shoulders, pursing my lips.
He shakes his head. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Then his hands are on my wrists as he sets both of them free.
“Shit,” I mutter as I massage each one, sitting up against the bed.
“Let me.” He takes one of my hands in his, his calloused fingers working my skin, easing the raw pain radiating there.
But I don’t let myself enjoy the feel of a man’s hand on me. Not this man. I snatch my hand away.
“You don’t get to play the hero, or whatever the hell this is! You’re the one who caused me pain!” I shout, lifting up my wrist for his viewing pleasure so he can see the red ring around it. “You don’t get to take it away!”
His jaw pulses. He doesn’t say anything as he picks up a steaming cup of what smells like coffee and sets it on the nightstand before handing me the tray.
“Make sure you eat.”
“How about you stop telling me what to do?”
“How about you stop fighting for just a second?”
“I can’t do that. I’ve been fighting my whole life. I’m not about to stop now. If anything, being with you is even more reason to keep on fighting.”
A deep sigh leaves his body. “I get that. More than you know.”
This man has me confused. He’s hard, yet soft. He’s like a jigsaw puzzle with so many undiscovered parts. My father would never have set his captive free, nor feed her. Brian wasn’t wrong about that.
I pick up the fork and slice away a piece of the crepe, and when it hits my mouth, I fucking moan.
Holy shit, this is delicious.
I don’t even care that he heard whatever noise just came out of me.
“That good, huh?” He laughs genuinely for the first time.
“Mm-hmm,” I mumble with my mouth full, my eyes widening. I take another bite, ready to eat the plate too.
“My cook, Sonia, is the best. She can make whatever you want. If there’s anything you’d like to request, let me know.”
I nod. Maybe I could get used to this new life. No one cooks for me. I survive on pre-made food. If I tried cooking, I’d probably burn my house down.
“After you’re done, I’ll show you the bathroom. I had all your essentials packed up and brought here last night, so you have all your things.”
“You were in my damn house?” I question with shock, my eyelids blinking rapidly.
“I was. I really enjoyed your panty collection, especially the crotchless ones.”
My mouth opens wide. “You’re gross.”
The taunting gleam in his eyes is the only response he gives.
“How the hell would you feel if someone invaded your privacy like that?” I ask.
“I’d probably kill ’em,” he answers casually.
“Exactly,” I mutter as I pop another bite into my mouth.
My stomach growls again. Man, I’m hungry.
I continue eating my breakfast in silence while he sits in that armchair I found him on when I first woke up here.
Picking up the coffee, I proceed to drink it all in a few sips, then set the cup back down. I go to work on the second crepe, devouring it in a few bites, finally feeling full.
Brian rises to his feet, taking the tray from me.
“Come on, stand up. The shower is right through the door.” He points to the one in front of me. “Don’t think about escaping through the window, though. I have men outside, and they can be a little trigger-happy.”
I look at the door, then at him. “Are you going to kill me? Just tell me so I can be prepared. It’s the least you can do.”
“Whether you die depends on you. But I have no intentions of killing you. Let’s keep it that way.”
Great. So I’m pretty much dead, no matter what.
If I do something he doesn’t like, he’ll kill me. If I help him take down my father, dear old Daddy will kill me. Seems like a great situation to be stuck in.