Chapter Two
Capri
“Your dad and I are worried.” My mom’s voice booms through the speakers.
I roll my eyes, tossing a few chips into my mouth.
“There’s nothing to be worried about.” I casually dismiss her worries.
“You keep saying that, but I can feel you drifting farther away from us. When last did you talk to Dr. Naomi?” she queries, her voice laced with worry.
“Last week,” I lie.
“You’re lying, Capri.” She sighs.
“Well, you knew I was going to lie, yet you still asked me. Has it ever occurred to you that your incessant worrying is more annoying than my problems? When I tell you that I’m okay, I expect you to take my word for it.”
She goes quiet on the other end of the line. “Honey, you lost your best friend. There’s no way you’re okay. It’s okay not to be okay after that. We just need you to talk to us and not shut us out.”
I scoff, sitting up. “You want the truth? Fine.”
“I blame you,” I spit out hoarsely, her gasp reaching my ears through the phone. “I blame you for not letting me go, because if you had, none of this would have happened.”
“Baby—”
“No!” I snap. “You asked for the truth, and there it is. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.”
I hang up, tossing my phone beside me. A tired sigh leaves my lips. The taste of my lips has turned sour in my mouth, so I abandon it. I reach for my covers, but then a rustling sound from my living room catches my attention.
I glance around my room for something I can grab to defend myself, but I don’t see anything. I consider hiding under the covers, but anxiety crashes through me at the thought of someone breaking into my room.
I carefully make my way to the living room, instinctively grabbing a nearby vase. I’m prepared for anything that can go wrong—a man in a haunting mask, someone with a gun, or being knocked out from behind.
Everything except a toned, muscular, familiar back that faces me and a sinful figure that glides around my open-plan kitchen, as if it belongs to him.
“Excuse you?” I screech, flinching slightly when the vase goes crashing to the floor.
He spins around, those green eyes locking on me. They make me feel naked in my blush-pink silk nightie.
“Sit.”
I ignore him. “What the hell are you doing here?” I haven’t seen him since the night he fucked my mouth, told me I now belong to him, then disappeared into thin air.
It’s been five days and eight hours, give or take.
Yes, I’ve been counting.
His gaze hardens, but I don’t back down. I maintain an intimidating stare. Something about defying him is such a turn-on.
“Sit your ass down and stop acting like a brat, Capri,” he says through clenched teeth, his voice tinged with frustration.
I glare at him, but hop on the stool.
“Now, what?” I fold my arms.
He whips out a black ceramic plate and dishes some food on it. He pushes the plate toward me afterward.
It was mashed potatoes and beef sauce.
“Eat.”
“I don’t want your poison. Thank you.” I fake a smile at him.
“You can eat it now, or I swear to God, I’ll shove it down your throat.” His darkened eyes rest on me, silently pushing me into submission.
My stomach growls, and I quickly avoid his eyes, digging into the food.
A moan slips from my mouth at the first taste. He might look like the devil’s first son, but he cooks so well.
He pops a bottle of red wine open and fills up a glass, passing me mine before filling his own.
“So do you feed all your hostages?” I sass him, taking a sip from my wine.
“Only you.”
My cheeks burn slightly at his words, and I look away. I can’t help it after a while. My eyes land on an ouroboros tattoo that covers the palm of his right hand up to his wrist. I never noticed it before, and now that I have, I find it so hard to avert my eyes.
It’s so attractive.
“Who is it?”
I blink, confused. “Who’s what?”
“Who did you lose?”
His question makes me stiffen. His gaze is hard, and heated, filled with the determination to break me even if it’s the last thing he does. My stomach dips, swirling with a whirlwind of emotions that make me want to puke.
“Don’t ask me that.” My voice hardens as I stab a chunk of beef.
“Who is it?” he insists.
“Leave me alone.” My voice trembles.
I look at him, hoping he’ll stop pushing, but his green eyes are devoid of emotion. Tears fill my eyes rapidly, and I angrily wipe at them, not wanting to break down in front of him.
“Is that why you can’t paint?”
“Have you been looking through my stuff?” I snap.
“I didn’t have to. The canvas and paint palettes are lying over there for anyone to see. So who was it?” he grits out impatiently.
“How are you so sure I lost someone?” I glare at him.
His lips twitch. “Eyes this dead can only mean one thing. The experience of a loss that changes you.”
“You sound like you have been there before.”
His eyes darken. “Loss is part of life.”
I sigh. “My best friend. That’s who I lost.”
“I ... uh ... I had been speaking to my parents a few weeks before the accident about moving out. They weren’t okay with it. They are so protective ... the two of them. We were fighting a lot about it, and it was really taking a toll on me.” I wipe a tear off furiously.
“Ria only wanted us to go to a party and have some fun. I didn’t really think much of it.
I needed an escape from the constant chaos at home.
We went to the party, and on our way back, my mom wouldn’t stop calling when she found out that I wasn’t home.
I was trying to text her back and keep control of the steering wheel, but I lost control of the car.
The last thing I remember was our car going over the bridge and plunging into the water.
I made it, but Ria didn’t. She was already dead by the time they pulled her out of the water. ”
The food before me turns blurry, and my lungs close up. I try to stand, or even grab the edge of the counter to keep myself steady, but I can’t breathe.
Strong arms reach for me in no time, lifting me on top of the counter. I grab on to his arms with burning lungs and teary eyes. Those olive-green eyes catch me when I’m right at the edge of falling. They keep me steady, thick with emotions I can’t decipher.
“You are not drowning. You are here. With me.” He keeps my legs hooked around his hip. “Let it out. You are trying not to cry and struggling to breathe at the same time. One has to give.”
He holds me until I’m able to get a hang of my breathing, then the dam fucking breaks. I shatter in his arms, wracking with loud sobs.