by K. L. Savage
I have a special place in hell for people like him and I can’t wait for him to meet my brother.
Nora’s eyes widen when she hears me, but I won’t apologize for saying the truth.
“Okay, if anything else occurs just let me know. Feel better, darling.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Nora tries to speak clearly, but the effort only disguises her voice more.
“Show me the way out, Mr. Moretti,” Dr. Alister presses the silver clasps of her bag together. Her doctor case reminds me of one of those old coin purses women used to carry in the 1950s, only much larger and expensive leather.
Well, the way out is the same way you came in… is what I want to say.
I don’t. I am a gentleman, after all. “Of course. Nora, I’ll be right back. Rest, Stellina.” I get up from the bed and take her hand, pressing a quick kiss against the velvet flesh. Nora nods and turns to her side to fall asleep. The doctor and I aren’t out the bedroom door before Nora is passed out, her breaths even and slow.
I walk Dr. Alister to the front door. “Oh, let me call Giovanni to—”
“God, no. That man is dreadful. I can find my way out, but I am not leaving without my payment.” Her thin brows do not move, and there are no wrinkles along her forehead as she stares me down.
Botox. No wonder her face is frozen.
I dip into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. I count out ten one-hundred-dollar bills and hand them to her. She plucks the cash from my fingers, folds the bundle in half, then tucks it under her shirt, into her bra. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Ciao, darling.” She kisses the air twice, spins on her heels, and saunters away as if she is on a catwalk.
“Ciao.” I close the door and the automatic lock slides into place.
My eyes dart across the room, the view of Vegas staring at me in the face. I have everything I have ever wanted. Money, power, my memory, the biggest penthouse in Vegas… yet none of it makes me feel as invincible as the woman lying in my bed does.
I know nothing of her. She’s a stranger to me.
Lust isn’t the only thing between us, and for the first time since I lost my first wife, I want to dig deeper and find out what it is. In order to do that, I need to make sure the man who did this to her is taken care of. I grab my phone and start typing a message to Zio.
“Gas him. Transport him to your underground dungeon and throw him in the cell next to Maximo. I want nothing happening in the casino.”
I hit send and stuff the phone in my pocket. I nudge the door with my arm and make my way to the bedroom. My cell buzzes in my pocket, but I don’t bother answering it. I already know it’s Zio telling me what I want to hear.
When I slip into the bedroom and shut the door, I undo my pants and let them fall to the ground. I kick them off my feet and stride to the side of the bed Nora isn’t on. I pull the covers back and get under them, my briefs already making me feel comfortable.
I usually always sleep naked, but I don’t want to startle Nora when she wakes up tomorrow. The pillow gives under my cheek as I lie on my side staring at Nora, a woman over twenty years my junior, a woman I have no business wanting.
But age isn’t going to stop me. I’ll figure out a way for her to be mine.
And I can’t wait to hear the definition she chooses to tell me when she finds out that the only man from here on out in her life is going to be me.
I wake up with a start, jackknifing into a seating position and look around the room I’m in. What the fuck am I doing here? No, what the hell happened? Actually, whose fucking apartment is this? Okay, I need to take a few deep breaths. This isn’t like me. I don’t freak out. I don’t curse often. And I sure as hell don’t wake up alone in a random bed, in a random place.
In a random shirt!
Oh god, this isn’t even my shirt. I glance down and see the plain white tee, nothing special, but it’s soft and smells so good. I lift it up and let out a massive exhale of relief when I see my panties on. I droop down on the pillow and stare at the ceiling. Even the ceiling is fancy, with a tray design and a large ceiling fan in the middle, but the fan has no lights.
The lights are on the crown molding along the top of the wall where it meets the ceiling.
I’ve landed in Oz.
“What happened, what happened, what happened?” I ask myself, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples when my headache hits the front of my skull full force. I try to recall the last thing I remember. “I’m playing blackjack, I’m drinking…” I gasp, sitting up again, and lay a hand to my chest when I remember Mateo carrying me to his penthouse. “I am not here. There’s no way I’m in his bed.” I wiggle my butt on the mattress, testing to see if I’m sore. I’m not. That means I didn’t have sex. I swallow, my throat sore and raw.
Which has another memory surfacing.
“Oh god.” I buy my face in my hands when a flash of what happened last night surfaces. His fingers are down my throat and he is trying to get me to throw up. “This can’t be happening.” This experience is one of the many reasons why I keep to myself. Women who go out and drink have an increased risk of this happening. The one time I do it, the one time I decide to have a little fun, some asshole drugged me. Figures.
I scratch the inside of my arm and hiss when something tugs against my skin. I gape at the IV I see in my arm and follow the tube to an empty banana bag.
Oh, no. I hate needles. I can see it just below my skin, puncturing my vein. I pick at the tape holding it firmly against my inner elbow, and I whimper as it tugs at my arm hair. I shake my hands and whine. I don’t remember getting an IV. I must have been really out of it.
A shadow falls in the doorway, blocking the light from the sun shining in the windows. I nearly have tears in my eyes from this entire ordeal and the fact I have a needle in my arm.
“Hey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Mateo’s deep Italian voice booms in the room, and before can blink he is kneeling at my side, brushing my hair back. “You’re okay. You’re safe here. Nothing is going to happen to you here, Stellina.”
I glance up from the needle in my arm and am met with Mateo’s face. A feeling of safety engulfs me when I see his chocolate brown eyes staring at me. His hair is messy, fresh out of the shower and he hasn’t styled it yet, so the natural waves are still there without product. A few curls are on his forehead and I’m getting a glimpse of him that I know a lot of people don’t get to see.
Today, he has chosen a burgundy blazer with a black shirt and black pants, no tie. No other man could pull this look off. It makes the olive hues in his skin brighter, like a golden brown. There’s a five o’clock shadow on his face and the scruff appeal gives him more of an edge.
My body is awakening again, and I don’t want it to. I want to get out of here. I need to get into the comfort of my own dorm.
“I know you’re probably feeling overwhelmed right now,” he says.
That’s an understatement. I’ve never been in this position before. I have to breathe. Breathing is good. Mateo peels the tape off my inner arm; it hurts less when he does it. He gently tugs it free without ripping the hair out of my arm and then slides the needle out.
I whimper. It’s loud and pathetic sounding, and Mateo brings my arm up and he kisses the spot where the needle was just a second ago. “It’s okay, Stellina. Needles aren’t great, are they?” He grabs something off the nightstand, and I realize it’s a band-aid. He peels off the paper and lays it over the tiny wound. “There. All better. Do you remember what happened?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the flesh-colored band-aid.
Too much.
“Most of it until the IV. I… um. I want to apologize for you having to shove your fingers down my throat.” I wrap a hand around my throat and swallow, the familiar ache reminding me of the worst night of my life. “Extremely shocked, engulfed with horror,” I mutter, defining the word ‘horrified.’
“I’m glad I could help. It scared me when I saw him slip that int
o your drink.”
“Why?” I croak, wincing when the rawness of my throat cracks my voice.
He tilts his head as he stands, then shoves his hands in his pockets. My eyes land on the bulge in his pants, and I avert my sights to stare at the floor. I hope he didn’t catch me, but oh my god, it’s huge. If it’s that big in pants, I can’t imagine…
And I won’t. Nope. I can’t go there.
In fact, I need to get out of here. Being with him has me wanting to rethink my wants and dreams. I’ve had my mind set on too much to let a man come in and ruin it.
Graduate. Get a job. And never have to need someone.
I don’t want to depend on a soul. It makes me so uncomfortable that I’m even here and he has had to help me.
“Because I’m not the kind of man to let a woman get drugged, not when I can help it.”
“You could have let my friends take me back to campus.”
“No,” he states without giving a reason.
“No?”
“No. Now, I’m going to go to your campus, get your books because you said you had to study, and I’ll be back. Your friends will be over to keep you company—”
“Excuse me?” I sling the comforter off me and slap my feet against the floor to stand. I cross my arms and tap my foot. “You can’t keep me locked away in your tower. I want to go back to my dorm, and you can have all your space back today. And have your guests over so they can use up all of your toothbrushes.” Why did I say that? I’m such an idiot.
“Does it bother you that I have toothbrushes here, Stellina?”
I huff, shake my head, and do my best to pretend it doesn’t bother me. “No. Have all the toothbrushes in the world, for all I care.”
It does bother me. Mateo is the most attractive and intriguing man I’ve ever met. He’s the only one that’s held my interest for more than thirty seconds. I’m not bored of him. I want him to not want others, because I want him so much.
That isn’t fair to him. And it isn’t fair to me.
It’s just lust. Nothing more. I’m not dumb enough to give into the sexual tension and then have that heavy pit in my stomach form. Libby has told me so much about it. I have my future planned and Mateo is not a part of it.
“I want to go home. I appreciate everything you have done for me. I know you tried to make my birthday special, but I’m really the kind of girl that likes to stay in and read her textbooks and study. I enjoy it. I don’t do this.”
His eyes roam my body and his expression changes when he locks on my legs. He licks his lips. I tug the hem of the shirt as far as I can and him standing right in front of me in his suit intimidates me. “You aren’t going anywhere, Nora. You’re going to get in the shower, change into the clothes I had bought for you that are waiting for you in the bathroom, you’re going to hang out with your friends, and when I come back, you’re going to go to dinner with me.”
“Dinn—” I don’t even finish my sentence and shake my head. “No. No. Sorry. No. I don’t… dinner.”
“You don’t dinner? You don’t eat, Stellina?” he asks, mirth tilting his lips. “You need to eat.”
I trip on my left foot but right myself, then grab the blanket and hide the rest of my body so he can’t stare at my legs. “I eat. On my own. Without a man. A guy. Without you. Not here at all. I have food in my dorm. I am free from outside control and the only authority I have or need is my own.” I’ve said that a hundred times in my head over the years.
“You don’t need to define what independent means. I’m a very independent man, but everyone has wants, Stellina. And I want to take you out.” He plucks the blanket from my hands and lets it drop. It puddles across my feet, keeping my toes warm. “Bellissima. You really know how to wear my shirt.”
“I don’t know what you just said.” I liked it. A lot. Italian really is a beautiful, seducing language. “But I’m not going to fall for it.”
He closes the space between us with one stride and his eyes dart over my head while his finger twists a piece of my hair. “You already have, Stellina. You just won’t admit it to yourself.”
“I’m going home.” My voice is weak, shaking as he drops my hair and moves his finger across my cheek. I dive away from his touch and grab my dress that is folded in the chair next to my purse. “I’ll call a cab and be out of your hair in no time.”
“Your phone is dead, and your friends are in the other penthouse suite, and this needs to be dry cleaned. There is puke on it.” He plucks it from my hands, and I let him have it, a heated rash of embarrassment working its way up my neck at the reminder. “The bathroom is there.” He points across the room. “I’ll be back, Stellina,” he says, kissing my forehead as he walks out the door, then slams it shut.
Leaving me. Alone.
I hear a click of the doorknob and that has me rushing forward and grasping the handle. I twist and turn, but it won’t open. He has locked me in. I bang my hands against the wood with the palm of my hands, over and over again until they sting from the urgency of the hits. “Hey! You can’t lock me in here. You can’t deny me the right of going home! If you are forcing me to stay, that is the action of abducting someone and holding me against my will. That is the freaking definition of kidnapping! You have kidnapped me,” I yell. “This is kidnapping!” I kick the door for good measure, then place one foot against the wall while using both of my hands to pull on the handle.
I grunt, trying to open the door, but it’s almost like it’s bolted all the way around.
His insidious laughter on the other side makes me angry. And aroused. His laugh is raspy and unused, like he doesn’t get to laugh much.
“I’ve done worse things, Stellina.”
“Oh my god. You’re going to kill me!” I yelp and back away from the door. “A murderer: someone who kills someone else.”
“I find your need to tell me definitions, endearing and refreshing. No, I’m not going to kill you. It’s the last thing I want to do. I’ll be honest, I can’t say the same about the man that drugged you. I’ll warn you about me, Stellina.”
A shadow moves under the door and I stop breathing, waiting to see if he is about to kick it in. “You have every right to be nervous. I’m not a good man, but I will be nothing but a good man to you. I’m a killer. A mafia boss. I’m always in control, and I always get what I want. Make no mistake, Nora. I want you. And I know you want me too.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I barely have the strength to ask.
“You deserve to know who you are with. But I’ll say this, I’m not the man that drugged you.”
“No, you’re just the man kidnapping me.”
He chuckles again. “If that’s what you have to tell yourself, that’s fine. You and I both know you want to be here. You’re just scared. This place is out of your comfort zone, as am I. You need a push. A part of you has to be forced or you’ll never do anything. You’ll live in your bubble.”
“I like my bubble,” I argue, sliding my hands up and down my arms as a cold chill sweeps over me. I don’t sound very convincing, but I do like my bubble. Does it get lonely? Sure. But I don’t mind.
“And I’m about to pop it, Stellina. You are too special to live isolated from a world that can give you everything.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know more than you think,” he replies, my spine tingling from the underlying message.
Has he researched me?
“I’ll be back soon. Shower, Stellina. You’ll feel better.”
“You’ll feel better,” I mock him. Childish? Yes.
“I heard that, and I’ll spank you for it.”
“Hurting someone when they don’t want—”
“Pleasure. When you’re ready. It will only ever be pleasure.”
I stay quiet, my mind racing with thoughts and images inside my head. I can’t lie to myself or him. I don’t think there is a way to lie to him. He knows I want him, but what he doesn’t know is how much I want me m
ore.
When my mom killed my dad, it was just me. I had to learn how to be on my own. I had to live with the fact that my mom not only wanted to kill my dad but wanted to kill me too. She hated us. I carry that with me every day, so yeah, it’s much easier only counting on myself. If I don’t get close to anyone enough to love them, then they won’t ever get the urge to kill me.
Love is a dangerous thing, filled with blood and disappointment. I’ve been bathed in it once and I’d rather stay clean than risk getting dirty all over again.
“Enjoy the tub. I left you brunch. I won’t be long.” His shoes click across the floors and the sound gets further away until I hear a door shut in the distance.
My heart stampedes against my sternum in panic. He really left me alone, locked in his bedroom. I run to the door again and try to open it, but there is no use. I’m trapped, and I have nowhere to go. It could be worse. I could not be stuck in a penthouse where all my wants and needs are taken care of. I could be in a dirty rundown hut with floors made of dirt, but that’s not the point.
The point is that… I’m scared to be here. I’m scared to want something more than the plans I’ve laid out for myself.
I can still hear the gun firing in the living room. I can still hear the splatter of blood as it sprays on the wall. If I focus, I can smell the gunpowder in the air and arguing coming to a halt, leaving the house in silence besides the TV playing in the background.
My mom came around the corner and pointed the gun at me, but I ran out the back door when she fired, the bullet ripped through the cabinets and shattered the ceramic mugs.
How can I want for myself, when the one person that was supposed to want me and love me no matter what turned their back on me?
I sag against the door and battle a rush of tears. I lift my eyes to the ceiling and blink quickly. I don’t want to cry. She isn’t worth thinking about.
Even if I think about what she did every day and live my life according to the fear she instilled in me. In order to live the way Mateo wants me to, I have to give up the safety net I’ve made for myself. The strength it will take to do that is more than I have.