21. Siena
Siena
It’s been weeks since I saw or heard from Matti. At least two weeks, probably three or more. There’s no calendar in this room, and for the first few days, I was asleep most of the time. Maybe longer.
The hit on the head didn’t turn out to be much, and the cuts on my wrists and ankles from the zip ties healed quickly.
But after all that time on the road, everything with Emily, and then Franco…
I just shut down. I slept for days. When I finally started waking up, it was like my body had been replaced with a dull, unresponsive shell.
The daze lasted for another few days, but now I’m starting to feel more… something. Not normal. But better.
But the better I feel, the more my thoughts return to Matti. I wish they didn’t.
A soft knock pulls me back to the present. Olivia pokes her head through the door. “Hey, girl. You decent?”
I laugh, waving her in. She’s been a lifeline these past weeks. At first, she just dropped off towels, meals, toiletries—including the entire line of Bergamot & Basil, the line of bath and skincare products I love—but over time, she started sticking around.
Now she’ll chat for hours, filling the silence and keeping me grounded. I get the feeling that she’s as lonely as I am, and we’ve bonded while holding space for each other.
Olivia steps in, dragging a laundry basket and holding up her phone. “I brought the new Gia Detroit novel,” she announces with a grin. “Girrrrllll… all the spice.”
She laughs, and I laugh with her. Since there is no TV in here and I’m not allowed to have a phone, we like to read smut to each other in dramatic voices for entertainment.
“Definitely don’t want to get caught reading that out loud,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. But my chest tightens, the question that I’ve been trying to bury for weeks bubbling its way back to the surface “Do you… happen to know when Matti’s coming back?”
Olivia freezes for half a second, her expression shifting. Her face becomes unreadable, guarded.
“I never know where he is or when he’ll be back,” she says carefully. Then, almost too quickly, she flashes her usual grin. “It’s part of his charm.”
She gives me a double eyebrow raise and a wink, but something about it feels off. My stomach twists. What is she saying? Is she saying she finds him charming? Are they… together?
I decide to play it like I assume they are together. “He doesn’t usually call? Tell you what he’s doing?”
“Oh, he calls when he needs something from me, trust me,” she replies with a laugh that cuts through me like a knife .
What does he need from her? My thoughts spiral until I mentally smack myself. Why do I care? The priority is finding out when he’s coming back so I can get him to let me go. “So he just disappears for weeks and doesn’t say anything?”
Olivia busies herself folding laundry. She shrugs. “What do you expect? When he wants something, he’s here. When he doesn’t, he’s not. Our relationship is on his terms, one hundred percent. I never have any idea where he is or what he’s doing. Fuckboy behavior all day, amiright?”
Relationship? Fuckboy? Guilt and nausea churn in my gut. I came undone in that shower with Matti while he had his hand on my throat and his hard body pressed against me. And here she is, waiting for him to call.
I force my gaze up to the small window with bars. I’ve spent hours staring at that window, watching the light change. Waiting. But waiting for what? For Matti to come back and magically decide that he’s going to let me go? That’s not going to happen. Nothing is going to change.
Nothing is going to change unless I make it change.
Waiting around for something to happen is no longer an option for me. It’s time to make moves.
“Alright, chapter one,” I say, clapping my hands to cut the tension. “Let’s do this.”
I give Olivia a big smile, and she brightens. She picks up her phone, and I start folding laundry while she begins reading.
She’s not the enemy. It’s not a surprise that Matti is with her. She’s tall, at least six inches taller than me with a thin frame, long toned legs, and white blonde hair that frames her big gray eyes and high cheekbones perfectly.
Honestly, she belongs on a runway, and since she’s not, it can only be because her controlling boyfriend won’t let her go.
It’s not her fault Matti is an asshole, leading her on while fucking with me—and who knows who else. Whatever their relationship is, it’s clear what happened between Matti and me meant nothing to him. His ghosting act further confirms that.
Not that I should give a fuck. Not that I do give a fuck.
At most, he might have been a good distraction for a minute since I haven’t gotten laid in literal years.
But his relationship status is far from the only reason to stay the fuck away from him, which starts with getting the fuck out of here as soon as possible.
The problem is, I still don’t know my status here. Olivia leaves the door unbolted when she goes, but I don’t know the layout of this place or where I’m allowed to go.
Running into attack dogs or armed guards doesn’t sound appealing. And getting caught breaking the rules could mean worse consequences—serious lock and key or losing Olivia’s visits. None of that do I want to risk.
Olivia’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Seriously? No reaction to ‘plunging into my slick folds’?”
“‘Folds.’ The worst word,” I say with a forced laugh, though I hadn’t been listening.
She lowers her phone. “What’s wrong?”
I glance at my lap, debating how much to say.
I can’t risk getting her in trouble, but I don’t know if I can trust her either.
After all, I fucked with her… whatever Matti is to her.
And she does work with these people. In fact, she seems to live here, and I’m not sure why, so even though she seems neglected and lonely, I have no idea where her heart lies.
Finally, I mutter, “How long am I supposed to stay here? ”
Olivia’s face softens, and she sighs. “That’s a good question. I don’t know the answer, though.”
“What’s the norm?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Honestly, it varies. Most people who are brought here are only here for a few hours, maybe a few days at most. But most of them don’t leave, so….“ She trails off, realizing too late what she said.
My stomach drops, and she quickly reaches out and grabs my arm reassuringly. “No, that’s not what I meant! That’s not you. You’re not in danger, okay?”
I pinch my lips together to keep them from shaking. Fear washes over me so intensely that I almost pass out.
Olivia squeezes my arm. “Girl, listen to me. The people that…the people in those circumstances, they are not left alone here for weeks and given clean laundry and fancy meals.” She waves her phone at me. “I don’t read them smut, okay?!”
She’s trying to get me to laugh, and I attempt to oblige, but I feel like the muscles in my face are paralyzed. I can’t even look at her.
“Seriously,” she says firmly. “You’re not like the others. Matti said to look after you, make sure you have what you need. He’ll come back for you.”
Her words don’t comfort me. What does she know? She doesn’t even know where Matti is half the time.
I must not look convinced, because she continues. “I can’t say that for everyone here, either. There’s a cop who’s been here for a while now too, and he’s on subsistence level rations, no communication with anyone. He’s not only locked up, he’s chained up.”
A cop? I did hear Franco the other day! I knew it. But it slipped my mind after Matti and I…
It couldn’t be a different cop, could it? That seems unlikely, especially if I heard Franco’s voice. But why would they hold him? Did he come to find me?
I shake my head. That’s probably not the case. More likely he did something to piss them off, the way he pisses off everyone.
I flash back to Alexandra’s office, and looking up at Franco from where I was hog-tied on the floor. And him doing nothing.
Anger burns me like acid, but even knowing he did nothing to help me when he could have, my heart squeezes at the thought of anything happening to him.
Franco can be a real dick, but he’s family.
Emily’s gone, my father’s gone, and I never talk to my mother, so as complicated as my relationship with Franco is, other than my cousin, Sophie, he’s all I have left.
Olivia is prattling on, spewing more evidence to support the notion that I somehow have it good in here, and the plan is not actually to murder me, but it’s hard to take her words to heart.
She doesn’t even know what her man is doing or who he’s doing.
How could she possibly know what his real plans are for me?
I make a show of yawning, and she seems relieved. Fatigue is better than fear, I guess.
“I’ll let you get some rest,” she says finally, slipping her phone into her pocket. Before leaving, she gives me a quick squeeze-hug.
As soon as the door closes, I count to sixty to give her time to walk away, then slip out of bed.
My dress and jacket from the day Matti brought me here are folded neatly in the laundry pile. I swap outfits quickly, pull my hair into a messy bun, and tiptoe to the door, which Olivia left ajar. I ease it open and peer into the dim hallway.
I have no idea where I am or where I’m going, but if Matti thinks I’m just going to sit here and wait for him, he’s crazier than I thought.