by Sarah Curtis
Chapter Three
Nico blew a stream of smoke into the cooling night sky as he gazed off into the distance, watching the sun set. He heard a set of footsteps come up behind him, but he didn't turn.
"Boss?"
With an internal sigh, knowing he wasn't going to like whatever Marco had to say by the tone of his voice, Nico dropped his cigarette and crushed it under the toe of his shoe before straightening from the deck post he leaned against. Turning, he looked at his friend.
"The girl?" Marco stood straight, hands clasped behind his back. He was the perfect soldier—always calm, cool, and collected but also lacking any true emotion.
"What about her?" Nico, on the other hand, didn't mind showing emotion when the situation warranted, but unfortunately for the person receiving it, it was usually anger, annoyance, or aggression.
"She's asking how long we're going to keep her locked up."
"She's free to have run of the house." Nico waved a hand. "There's nowhere for her to go."
"Do you think that's wise?"
Nico raised an eyebrow.
Marco held up his hands. "I meant until we know more about her. I have men looking into it, but they haven't reported back yet."
Nico took a few steps forward and placed a hand on Marco's shoulder. "You're right. We'll wait for the report to come back before making any decisions regarding the girl."
Marco dipped his chin. "And until then?"
Nico shrugged. "Maria will know what to do with her."
Marco nodded and turned to leave.
"Oh, and Marco?"
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Be sure to let me know the minute you hear anything."
"Of course."
Nico turned to look back at the horizon. The sun had fully set, and the outside lighting had clicked on. The pool lights glowed, reflecting in the water, reminding him he'd never gotten the swim he'd been looking forward to. He slipped through the French doors to his office and sat at his desk. He had some work to finish and a few phone calls to make before he could claim the night as his.
The hour was late when Nico entered his bedroom. Business calls had kept him on the phone for more than two hours. Toeing off his shoes and stripping off his jacket, he made his way to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot from being up since five that morning, and his usual five o'clock shadow was now a thick stubble, but all in all, he didn't look too bad—not as tired as he felt.
He stepped under the hot spray of the shower, washing off his day, hoping to relax enough to get some decent sleep. He'd always been a bit of an insomniac, but lately, it seemed to have gotten worse. He lived on about four hours of sleep a night if he were lucky, but other than medicating—which he wouldn't do—he wasn't sure how to cure it.
Stepping from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, his eyes landed on the door that connected the other room. The room she was in. He'd tried to push her from his thoughts all night, but being this close made a strange tingle course through his body. An awareness. It was fucking weird, and he didn't like it.
He didn't know her name. Didn't know anything about her. He probably should have resolved that by now. Should have had a conversation with her. But he'd been so determined to get her out of his head, he hadn't taken the steps that would lead him to the answers he wanted. Just a little longer and his men would tell him all he needed to know.
The problem was, would it be all he wanted to know.
Without thought, he found himself across the room, his hand on the door handle, the lock disengaged. Silence came from the other side. Fuck it. He pushed down on the handle. The door opened noiselessly on its well-oiled hinges. He stepped through the door and made is way to the foot of the bed.
The room was in shadows except one beam of moonlight that shone through the partly opened curtains, its light eerily directed at the bed. Almost like a fucking beacon, daring him to look at what was on display.
She lay curled in a ball on her side in the center of the bed. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, and her hair was splayed wildly about the pillow. Her breathing was deep and even, and her lids fluttered as if she were dreaming. He wondered what she dreamed about then cursed, telling himself he didn't care.
He wasn't sure how long he stared, paralyzed in one spot. He knew he hadn't made a fucking sound, but suddenly her eyes snapped open and their gazes locked. It took her a few blinks to recall the situation, but then she surged to a sitting position.
The beam of light hit her square in the face and fuck him if he wasn't transfixed. Gone was the piled on makeup, and her thick hair haloed her head wildly in soft, wavy curls. She was breathtaking. And fucking... young. "How old are you?"
She flinched. He hadn't meant it to sound so harsh, but for some strange reason, he was pissed at the thought she might be underage making her off limits. Which was crazy because he shouldn't touch her regardless.
He tried to relax his face into a more pleasant expression, not wanting to scare her, but had a feeling he'd failed when he saw her brow furrow.
He watched, captivated, as she raised her arms to sweep her hair from her face, the move pulling the fabric of her shirt tight across her tits. Her nipples were hard peaks revealed through the soft cotton, taunting him, and making his dick instantly hard. He'd never lusted over a teenager. What the fuck was his problem?
"Twenty-two."
So lost in his own depraved thoughts, the random number threw him for a moment until he realized she was answering his question. Twenty-two? Still young, but at least he didn't feel fucking perverted ogling her tits. If possible, his dick got harder knowing she wasn't off limits after all.
He saw her eyes flick down, and a blush heated her cheeks, reminding him he only wore a towel. He didn't need to look to know his arousal was on display. His cock twitched at the thought. He usually had better control. No, he usually had perfect control, but for some reason, the woman before him had his testosterone all jacked up.
Time to get it back in check. Putting on his best business persona, he said, "I'm Nicoló Conti. Nico. You'll be my guest here for a few days."
Her eyebrows arched in disbelief, and he saw a spark enter her eyes for the first time. And fuck him if that didn't make his dick hard, too. "Guest? Is that what I am?"
He pressed his lips together, and clenched his jaw, deciding it best to ignore her question. They both knew what she really was. "What's your name?"
She took a moment to answer, and he wondered whether she debated lying to him. Which was pointless as he'd have all his answers by morning. "Olivia."
He tipped his chin. "Olivia."
She licked her lips, her pink tongue darting out to coat them with a wet shine reflected by the moonlight. "Everyone calls me Livvy."
Nico gave her a curt nod. "Olivia." He wasn't everyone.
He saw that spark again but didn't give her a chance to respond. "Make yourself at home, Olivia. You'll be here a while." He wasn't sure why he'd said that. Before he'd entered the room, he hadn't planned on keeping her longer than a few more days. Just long enough to get Travis Scott straightened out and make sure Alec's woman pulled through. But looking down at her, the thought of letting her go seemed... unbearable.
Which was reason enough to let her go.
Turning, he made his way back to the connecting door. He heard her say something, but ignored her, not stopping until it was firmly closed and locked behind him. He sagged against the hard wood, his heart beating a loud tempo in his chest, and his cock still hard as a rock.
Again, what the fuck?
He didn't understand his reaction to her. Maybe he just need
ed a good screw. He'd been busy the last few weeks, and his nocturnal activities had suffered for it. He picked up his phone from his dresser and scrolled through his contacts until Ava's name was highlighted. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button, a pair of amber eyes and a mess of wild curls filling his vision.
He gritted his teeth, disgusted with himself. No way would he let a scrap of a girl affect his decisions. He hit the button and brought the phone to his ear. It rang once then was picked up.
"It's been a while. Thought maybe you'd lost interest." Ava's breathy purr sounded rehearsed. Unlike the soft, delicate voice of the woman in the next room.
Nico squeezed the phone harder in hopes of banishing Olivia from his thoughts. "Been busy. But I'm not busy now."
"I can be there in a half hour."
"Make it twenty, and there's a little something extra in it for you."
He heard her throaty chuckle. "There's always a little something, or should I say a big something in it for me."
"That's right, baby. Keep thoughts of my cock in your head all the way over here. You now have fifteen." He clicked off the phone and set it back down on his dresser.
His eyes snagged on the closed connecting door, and like he'd been trying to do all fucking night, he pushed the woman on the other side of it out of his mind. He went to his closet and opened a drawer, grabbing a pair of black sweat pants and slipping them on. He snatched up a black tee, and a vision filled his mind that had his whole body stilling while pulling it over his head. Olivia in baggy black sweats and an oversized black tee. His dick—that had never completely gone down—sprang back to life at the thought of his clothes resting against her bare skin.
Calling himself all kinds of fucked up, he snatched up his phone and hit the speed-dial button.
"Boss?"
"Ava's on her way over. Send her home when she gets here."
"On it."
"Oh, and Marco?"
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Compensate her and let her know her services are no longer needed." Nico clicked off his phone then made his way to the bathroom to do something he'd hadn't done in a long fucking time.
Jack off.
Chapter Four
A noise woke Olivia from sleep, and she opened her eyes to see the guy from the day before setting a tray of food on the dresser. The same older woman was delivering another pile of clothes.
"Oh, you're up. Food and fresh clothing." The woman waved at the dresser.
They started to leave and not wanting to miss an opportunity to get some answers, Olivia quickly said, "Wait, please."
They both turned back to her. The woman with a slight frown on her face, the man a broad smile. "Listen, um... I'm sorry, but I don't know your names."
The woman gave her a tolerant smile. "I'm Maria." She gestured to the guy beside her. "And this is Al."
His smile turned into a grin followed by a wink.
She smiled at Maria, ignoring Al and his boy-next-door good looks. "Maria. Thank you for the food and clothes," she said sweetly, remembering you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. "But do you have any idea how much longer I'll be here?" She really needed to get back home, fearing time was running out.
"I'm sorry, signorina, but I don't know the answers you seek." Then, as if wanting to give her some hope, she added, "I'll let Signor Conti know you're asking and maybe have an answer for you when I return in a few hours with your lunch."
Olivia's thoughts drifted as the duo retreated, closing the door behind them. Signor Conti. Nicoló. Nico. The name had triggered the image of him from the night before. Nico in her room, wrapped only in a towel. Her cheeks heated as she recalled the moonlight reflecting off flawlessly smooth, tanned skin, broad shoulders, a sculpted chest, and a set of chiseled abs. She'd seen a lot of male torsos so could say with authority, his was perfection.
She'd been alarmed, waking up and finding him in her room. And with the uninformative conversation they'd had, she still wasn't sure what the purpose had been. All she knew was the late night visit had left her worried enough she'd had trouble falling back to sleep. Tossing and turning and taking quick glances at the connecting door, she'd fretted until exhaustion had finally pulled her under.
The smell of food drifted to her and made her stomach growl, reminding her she'd never had dinner the night before and was starving. Scooting off the bed and making her way to the dresser, she looked down at the tray—scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. She grabbed up a fork and started shoveling.
Her eyes drifted around the room as she ate, trying to think of a way to escape. Nico's advice to "get comfortable because she'd be there a while" had her very worried indeed. She needed to get home, and that meant she needed to find a way out of the room.
Her eyes landed on the mystery door that, after last night, was no longer a mystery. Nico coming through it in nothing but a towel, it was safe to say the room beyond belonged to him. It would also be safe to assume, the main master bedroom door wouldn't be locked. She needed a way into that room.
It was while spreading jam on her toast she had an idea. Looking from the butter knife to the handle on the locked connecting door, she wondered whether her plan would work. Eager to find out, she licked the knife free of jam then set it to the side wanting to get changed before enacting her scheme.
Grabbing the pile of clothes, she made her way to the bathroom not daring to change in the open where anyone could walk in at any time. She used the bathroom, scrubbed her face, and brushed her teeth before getting dressed. The clothes still had tags, and while not her exact size, they fit well enough. The jeans were a little baggy, and the top was tight across her breasts, but it was better than the dress she'd arrived in. Sadly there was no bra. She also didn't have any shoes except her black high-heel pumps. Debating putting them on, she decided bare feet would be better for stealth maneuvers.
Grabbing the knife, she carefully listened at the door. Hearing no signs of movement, she quickly went to work on the handle—removing the faceplate, unscrewing a few screws. When the handle on the other side of the door fell to the carpeted floor, she reached into the opening and depressed the metal latch with her fingers. The door swung open.
Holy crap, she couldn't believe it had worked. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, making sure it was empty. It definitely looked like a master bedroom. At least double the size of the room she'd been put in, it even had a sunken sitting area. The decor was dark, yet tastefully done in black and shades of dark gray. All the furniture was dark wood, looking solid and heavy.
Not sure of her exact plan past escaping the house, she figured she would at least need some money to get home and hoped a search of the dresser drawers would produce some cash. Nothing. Other than a ton of clothes.
She checked the nightstand drawers next, hoping to be more successful. Slowly pulling out the top drawer, being careful not to make too much noise, she carefully moved things around, trying to find something useful. Nada, unless she could figure out a use for stray condom packets, ballpoint pens, or a Dean Koontz paperback. She took a few seconds to marvel at the fact Nico had a book in his nightstand, and from the dog-eared appearance, it looked as if he were actually reading it.
Moving on.
She was having the same bad luck with the bottom drawer until she spied a thick white envelope. She opened the flap to discover a thick wad of cash, all in small bills.
Bingo.
Pulling out a few twenties, she put the envelope back exactly how she'd found it, then stuffing the money in her back pocket, she made her way to the main door.
Now the tricky part. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened. Hearing nothing, she slowly opened it a crack and
peered out. Still nothing. She opened the door wider and stuck her head out, looking both ways down the hall. No one.
Not believing her good fortune, she didn't waste time. Hugging the wall, she found a set of back stairs and quickly tiptoed down. She wasn't sure which direction to go next, but taking a chance, she went right, sticking to the shadows as she made her way deeper into the house.
Hearing voices, she ducked into the next room she came to. It appeared to be a living room or maybe a music room as there was a large grand piano taking up space in the far corner. Luckily, not only was the room empty but it also had a sliding glass door, leading outside. Holding her breath and praying it wasn't attached to an alarm, Olivia disengaged the lock and slid the door open just wide enough to fit through. Unless the alarm was silent, she was good.
Knowing the brick walls were too high to climb, she didn't bother making her way to the edge of the property. Instead, she followed the line of the house, unbelieving she still hadn't run into anyone, until she came upon the garage, giving her another idea.
She stepped inside the dim interior and saw she had four cars to choose from. Three big and clunky town cars or a shiny, black sports car. The choice was a no-brainer. Opening the driver's side door of the Porsche, she slipped inside, settling herself into the soft, leather seat.
Spying the fob in the cup holder, she pushed the start button and cringed. She sure as heck hoped the roar of the engine didn't sound as loud outside the garage as it did inside the car. Engaging the car's door locks, she adjusted the seat, fastened her seat belt, and put the car into reverse.
There were four buttons on the dash, and she wasn't sure which would open the garage door and which was for the gate. She pressed the first two buttons then held her breath as the garage door started to rise. She had her foot on the brake but was ready to move it to the gas pedal as soon as the car could clear the door. Her heartbeat raced, and her palms were sweaty as adrenaline coursed through her body, expecting at any moment for someone to come and stop her.