Shaking that unpleasant thought away, I concentrate on the amazing view. It’s something you would find on a postcard or in a travel guide. Stepping closer to the window, I soak in the beauty and let the motion of the waves calm me.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I turn around, startled, completely forgetting where I am for a moment. That is the thing about beautiful things—they can distract you for a short time, but then everything eventually turns ugly and real again.
“Yes, very,” I reply shyly. I watch him as he heads over to his desk. He grabs a crystal bottle that is filled with a dark liquid. Two glasses clink together in his hand as I realize he is going to pour me a drink.
“No, thank you,” I mutter before he can drop a splash of what I assume is bourbon. I’m not much of a drinker, not that I’ve had many chances to do so. I’m not even old enough to legally drink.
He turns, peering up at me. His eyes are beautiful in the setting sun. His body is lickable in so many ways, and if it’s this great looking covered by his clothes, I wonder what it will look like without.
“If you insist.” Lorenzo pours himself a large glass and slams most of it back. A dribble escapes his mouth, landing on his full bottom lip.
A brief image of me licking away the sweet-smelling alcohol flashes through my mind, but I quickly push it to the darkest corner of my brain. He’s attractive, but he is a monster. I can’t let my physical attraction to him distract me.
Watching him more closely, I can tell he is of Italian descent, which explains why he used the word ‘piccolo.’ His dark complexion, along with his dark hair and eyes, tells me he is. His body and hands are large, his whole presence is large.
“I hope you think of this place as a home, not a prison.” His words are gentle, and his eyes are soft as he looks at me. Either he is trying to comfort me or give me a false sense of safety. I’m guessing the latter. He probably wants me to let my guard down so his attack will be more vicious.
“I hope you treat me like a person and not a prisoner,” I retort, taking a seat on the sofa and folding my hands in my lap. I don’t know what else to do or where I am supposed to go. I have been given no directions or purpose yet.
“I will treat you as I see fit and no less.” I gaze up into Lorenzo’s eyes. I don’t know what to think or how to feel anymore. My mind is still reeling. In less than twenty-four hours, my life has changed so much. “No need to frown. As long as you behave, I will not treat you too badly.”
I didn’t realize I was frowning until he pointed it out. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, averting my eyes to the floor. He is intense, unlike anyone I have ever met. Looking at him causes my heart to beat abnormally fast, but not looking at him makes me feel like I am missing something.
“The rules are pretty simple.” He purses his lips, taking the seat next to me. “Do as I say. Don’t disobey, and of course, you’re not to run. Ever. If you do, the deal is off, and your father is dead.” My heart is beating out of my chest.
“I won’t run, I promise.”
“You cannot wander around our home either; I will let you know what rooms you are allowed into. You do not speak to any of my men, but I will introduce you to the staff with whom you may converse. You will only wear the clothes I provide and will wear what I select for special occasions. Furthermore, you’re to stay in my quarters unless I say otherwise. You do not leave this room without my permission. You’re mine to play with, to keep, and to possess.”
His words leave me breathless. “Play with? Possess? You are talking about me like I’m a toy.”
I’ve been told many times in my life that my mouth will get me in trouble one day. I never really took that seriously until now. Much too often, I talk before I think, which is a terrible habit to have in my situation.
He leans into my body as if he is smelling me. “Yes, my personal toy. I will possess you in every single way possible,” he promises, his voice just above a whisper.
“What if I object to something you want me to do? What if I feel like I can’t handle what you ask of me?” I’m feeling very brave at the moment. I know asking this question will lead me to an answer that I don’t want to hear, but I have to hear it.
“If you object, then the deal is off and is unpaid. If the debt is unpaid, then there is only one other way to pay for it, and I assure you that you don’t want that to take place, piccolo.” His voice is dangerous, and his eyes say he isn’t lying. He will take someone’s life if I do not follow his rules.
Looking down at his hands, I know he has taken many people’s lives. I’m in danger of being his next victim.
“I won’t object,” I respond, trying my hardest to sound determined. I have no other option.
“Good,” he says, smiling as if he has just solved every problem in the world. The air between us is less tense now, and I find myself relaxing into the cushions more.
“Are you hungry?” Lorenzo asks, swirling the bourbon in his glass. He stares at it as if all the answers to his problems lie at the bottom of that glass.
“No,” I answer truthfully. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, but I feel no hunger. Matter of fact, my stomach is in knots. I don’t think I could keep anything down right now.
“Well, that’s too bad. ’Cause you’re coming to dinner with me. I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you smell Silvia’s food.”
“Why ask me if you are going to make the decisions for me anyway? No, wait, don’t answer that.”
Ignoring me altogether, he continues, “Anything in particular you like? I believe my cook, Silvia, made spaghetti with meatballs this evening.”
“Sounds good. I’m not picky.” I quickly stand at the same time he does. Our bodies brush against one another’s, and an electric current flows through us. For a tiny moment, I feel like I can read him, as if he is dark and damaged for a reason. It makes me want to dig my nails into him and crawl into the dark places of his mind and expose what he truly is.
As quick as the moment comes, it’s gone, the connection lost, and I’m left cold and scared once more. My fingers tighten around the fabric of my shirt, which I’m still holding together in front of my chest.
Lorenzo’s eyes lower to that hand, and his eyes light up like he’s just remembered something.
Briefly, he disappears into the large walk-in closet, only to return moments later with a pastel-colored blouse in his hand.
“Take your shirt off and put this one on,” he orders and hands it to me.
I take it and quickly do as he says. Dropping my torn shirt on the floor, I pull on the silky blouse. His gaze turns heated as he watches me change, which only makes me hurry up more.
It’s not until I’m buttoning up the blouse that I wonder who this belongs to. Why does he have women’s clothing in his closet? Does he do this a lot, or does he have a girlfriend… or wife? Whoever she was, she happens to be my size.
“Let’s go then.” Setting his glass down, he gently grabs my hand and leads me out of the room, stopping to close and lock the door behind us. I’m not sure why he feels the need to do that being it is his house, but I’m not curious enough to ask.