War of Hearts

by Julia Sykes

  “This is really Marco’s house?” I asked as Joseph kept step beside me, holding my hand as we made our way down the elegant curved staircase. On the way down, we passed a low-hanging chandelier with enough dripping crystals to throw rainbows onto the domed ceiling. I glanced up and noted the painted fresco above us. The art historian in me was interested, but I was still puzzled by the fact that Marco had cherubs depicted on his ceiling.

  “It’s his father’s house,” Joseph told me. “But Leo rarely comes here. Marco has had the place to himself for most of his life.”

  That sounded kind of lonely. “What about his mother? Doesn’t he have any siblings?”

  Joseph’s expression shuttered. “That’s for Marco to tell you, if he wants to.”

  I wanted to ask why it was such a secret, but deep in my heart, I understood. I didn’t want people knowing about my estrangement from my mother, either. It was so much easier to plaster on a smile and talk about what a great surgeon she was, how proud I was of her achievements. When in reality, all I felt was resentment and abandonment.

  “Oh. Okay.” I let the subject drop, but I’d never ask Marco about it. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, much less have heart-to-hearts about our families. Besides, I wasn’t sure if Marco even had a heart.

  When we got to the kitchen, Marco was nowhere to be seen. Two perfect, fluffy omelets were plated and waiting on the marble-topped island. Joseph pulled out one of the barstools for me, treating me with the same gentlemanly consideration he’d always shown me when we were together in Cambridge. It seemed that part of him had been genuine.

  Last night, he’d said he wanted to protect me and make me happy. I believed him, even if my mind was still reeling from the revelations about his lifestyle. It would take time for me to fully accept that my sweet Joseph was a criminal, but the fact that he’d tried to escape and make a new, better life for himself made it easier to swallow. If we just waited until the danger passed, we could go back to Cambridge together, and he could start over. I could go back to my life, with Joseph at my side.

  The knowledge made it much easier to accept my situation. Marco might have kidnapped me, but I wasn’t a captive here. Not really. Joseph was just trying to shelter me and keep me safe. It would be foolish to reject his protection.

  And I wasn’t certain that he would give me the option to reject it. A part of me recognized that the dynamic between us might be very different if I’d continued to defy his decision to keep me here.

  I remembered the way he’d wrapped his hand around my throat, pinning me down and kissing my desperate tears. I’d never seen that side of him before. It made my stomach drop and my pulse race.

  “I guess Marco already ate,” Joseph said, breaking into my dark thoughts. He touched two fingers beneath my chin, redirecting my gaze to his. “You okay, angel?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, and it was the truth. When he was looking at me with soft concern, touching me with such gentleness, I couldn’t be frightened of him. “I’m just hungry.”

  He grinned. “Then we’d better eat before it gets cold.”

  The eggs had already cooled to a lukewarm temperature while we’d lingered in the bedroom, so I ate them quickly before they got rubbery. The omelet really was delicious, just the right consistency and stuffed with bacon and cheese. Apparently, Marco really did like to cook. It seemed like a weird hobby for a ruthless criminal, but I supposed even mobsters had to eat.

  Although, given the opulence of his mansion, I suspected Marco’s family could afford a live-in chef.

  I shrugged off my curiosity, deciding I didn’t really care what Marco liked to do with his free time, when he wasn’t intimidating people and committing horrible crimes.

  “Do you want to see the rest of the grounds?” Joseph asked when I set down my fork, my plate completely cleaned. It really had been delicious.

  “Sure.” It would be nice to go outside. I’d spent most of yesterday sleeping, and when I’d woken up, it had been dark. Before my futile attempt to discover a tablet to access the internet and get a message to Jayme, I’d checked out the window as a possible escape route. Floodlights had illuminated the brick walkway below, at least a two-story drop. I’d definitely break something if I attempted to escape that way.

  Other than that, I hadn’t been able to make out much more than a grassy expanse that disappeared into darkness.

  I no longer intended to escape, but I’d still like to check out my surroundings. If I couldn’t leave this place, I might as well become familiar with my gilded cage. Because no matter Joseph’s pure motives in keeping me here, I was still restricted to the confines of this estate for the foreseeable future.

  I shook off the thought before the sensation of being trapped could set in. This wasn’t a cage; it was a refuge.

  Joseph took my hand again, and all my worry melted away. I walked with him out of the kitchen, across the foyer, and out the front door.

  It was a chilly autumn day, and goosebumps instantly broke out on my exposed skin. I was only wearing the thin camisole Joseph had bought for me, and my peaked nipples pressed against the fabric in response to the cold.

  To my surprise, Joseph frowned and rubbed my arms, his eyes focused on my face rather than my breasts. He was more concerned with my comfort than checking out my tits. The knowledge that he cared more about seeing to my needs than satisfying his own lust for my body made warmth flood my chest.

  “I’ll get you a jacket,” he said. “Wait here.”

  I hugged my arms across my chest when his heat receded. A light shiver wracked my body in the minute it took for him to return. He held his leather jacket, and he stepped behind me so I could slip my arms into it. The leather was heavy on my shoulders, the jacket far too big for my much smaller frame. It smelled like Joseph, and I breathed in deeply as he zipped it up to keep me warm.

  “Thanks,” I smiled up at him, completely content in this moment with him. When he took care of me like this, I couldn’t worry about the dark events unfolding around me. I knew he’d do more than keep me safe; he’d cherish me. The knowledge was heady, and pleasure flooded my system.

  He traced the line of my jaw, staring down at me with open admiration shining in his eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured before he pressed a quick, sweet kiss against my lips.

  I flushed as my pleasure intensified. This was more than the physical ecstasy that his touch elicited from my body; this was a soul-deep satisfaction that I’d only ever felt with him.

  Despite everything that was happening—despite the horrible truths I’d learned about him—I was still infatuated with him. I wasn’t ready to fully trust him yet, but my heart still yearned for his affection.

  I kept the love locked in my chest, not willing to voice it aloud yet. I needed to know more about the real Joseph before I could fully open my heart to him again. Trust had never come easily for me, and he’d violated it by hiding his past from me. It would take time for him to earn it back.

  He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close to his body heat as we walked out onto the grounds. A long, paved driveway cut through an expansive lawn, the asphalt disappearing into a line of trees. I started to walk down it, but Joseph steered me closer to the house.

  “There’s nothing that way,” he told me. “The gate is just a few minutes’ drive through the tree line. It’s guarded twenty-four/seven, so no one is allowed in without Marco’s permission. There’s an electric fence around the entire estate, and the guards will be alerted if anyone tries to breach it.”

  The information was baffling, totally at odds with the world I knew. This wasn’t just a house; it was a fortress. Hearing about the security made me more aware of the dangerous life Joseph led, but it also made me breathe a little easier. No one could get to me here.

  We walked around the house—which took a considerable amount of time, due to its sprawling expanse. Marco might as well live in a castle, complete with elaborate gardens. I spotted a large ga
rage to the side of the house. One of the multiple doors was open, and I noted a couple of motorcycles and a red sports car. I didn’t know much about cars, but I could tell it was expensive, just like everything else on this estate.

  Apparently, crime paid.

  When we reached the back of the mansion, excitement buzzed through me. Through the windows that enclosed the conservatory, I could see a covered indoor pool.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “Can I go swimming while I’m here?”

  “You like to swim?”

  I supposed I had neglected my morning laps during my time with Joseph in Cambridge. I’d been too attached to him to take time to go to the pool.

  “Yeah. I was on the swim team in high school. I usually swim laps every day.” Not only was it good exercise, but it helped me clear my head and relax, centering me at the beginning of my day.

  “I’ll talk to Marco about getting the pool serviced, then. It’s been drained and covered for as long as I can remember.”

  “Really? Why?”

  I couldn’t imagine having the luxury of an indoor pool in my own home but not using it.

  Joseph’s expression went smooth. “You’d have to ask Marco.”

  Another mystery only Marco could answer. Again, I decided I didn’t care much, as long as I had access to the pool.

  “Will you buy me some swimsuits?” I asked, fully confident that Joseph would follow through on his promise.

  He shot me a wicked smile. “I didn’t buy you underwear. Do you really think I’m going to buy you swimsuits?”

  I let out a huff of disbelief. It was one thing to walk around with my nipples poking through my shirt. It was another to be completely naked in Marco’s house.

  “Marco might see me,” I reminded him.

  “You seem very concerned about that.”

  My cheeks flamed. “Of course I am. I don’t like him.”

  Joseph’s smile melted. “I know he intimidated you. And I know it must have been scary when he abducted you. But he would never hurt you, I promise.”

  I wasn’t sure I could fully believe it. “That doesn’t mean I’m okay with him seeing me naked.” I countered. The fact that Joseph didn’t share this viewpoint was bizarre. I understood that—despite having completely different personalities—Marco and Joseph were best friends. What I didn’t understand was why Joseph didn’t seem as possessive of me around him as he had been back in Cambridge. Had his protective behavior back then been a carefully crafted lie to make me trust him?

  Joseph’s eyes searched my face, reading my displeasure.

  “Okay, angel,” he allowed, his tone contrite. “I’ll get you swimsuits. I don’t want you to be unhappy here.”

  I breathed a small sigh of relief. If he’d refused, there would have been nothing I could do about it. It sank it that I was completely reliant on him for everything as long as I was trapped here.

  I’m not trapped. He’s keeping me here because it’s the safest place for me.

  Despite my rationalization, my unease lingered until Joseph swept me up in a mind-numbing kiss. I fell into his arms, forgetting all my worries.

  Chapter Nine

  Ashlyn

  I surveyed Marco’s bedroom when I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair damp from the shower I’d just taken. The room was a mess, Marco’s belongings still strewn about from my frantic search for a tablet the night before.

  I expect this mess to be cleaned up by this time tomorrow. His stern words echoed in my head. I still internally balked at being ordered around like an unruly child, but I didn’t dare test Marco. If he told me to clean up the room, I’d clean it up. Besides, I had been the one to make the mess, and it was his room I’d torn apart.

  I wondered why he was even letting me stay in his bedroom, but I decided it didn’t matter. Maybe he liked one of the other bedrooms in the house better. It wasn’t really any of my concern.

  What I was concerned with was getting the room tidy before meeting Joseph downstairs for dinner. After spending the afternoon cuddling on the couch and binge watching Stranger Things, he’d told me he needed to take a phone call from his father. I’d decided to take a shower while he talked to his dad, and I hoped Marco wasn’t around when I did go down to meet Joseph for dinner. I really didn’t like being near him, so I hoped he ate his dinner and left before I arrived in the kitchen.

  But first, I had to clean up the mess I’d made. Before I’d tossed Marco’s things around the room, it had been neat as a pin, everything organized and in an orderly place. Even his pencils were carefully laid out in a neat row in the top drawer, each one sharpened to a perfect point. Why one person needed so many pencils, I didn’t understand.

  It didn’t matter why he had them; all that mattered was that I put them back into their orderly little row. I’d also thrown several books around—mostly biographies. I put them back on the bookshelf where they belonged, even placing them in alphabetical order by author when I realized the pattern of the books that remained on the shelf. I didn’t want Marco to be able to accuse me of doing a bad job at cleaning up. I didn’t want him to have any reason to get all intimidating and in my space again.

  When the books were back in order, I returned to the desk. I put some notepads back in place on the polished wood surface before moving to shut the drawers I’d nearly yanked out of the desk altogether in my desperation.

  My eyes caught on a large, leather-bound book that had been hidden in one of the drawers. It was soft to the touch, the forest green leather worn from extensive handling. There weren’t any markings on the cover, and it seemed too large to be one of Marco’s numerous non-fiction titles that he stored on the bookshelf.

  Curiosity urged me to pick up the book and flip it open.

  My heart stuttered.

  The leather cover didn’t conceal an obscure biography or novel. This was a sketchbook. And the first sketch was… unsettling.

  Perverted.

  Dirty.

  Wrong.

  The lead pencil strokes were light, as soft and elegant as the woman portrayed in the drawing. As a work of art, it was breathtaking. But what really stole my breath was the subject of the drawing. The woman was naked, her back arched and her lips parted on a silent cry. Her expression was one of ecstasy, her eyes closed and the lines of her face drawn with erotic tension. Her breasts were thrust out, her nipples peaked.

  But her nudity was the least disturbing part of the drawing. Twisted strands of rope were wrapped around her body, framing her breasts and putting them on lewd display. Her arms were drawn tight behind her, forcing her back to arch toward the artist. She was on her knees, her thighs spread wide to reveal her bare sex.

  After several long minutes, I turned the page, trying to replace the image that was burned into my mind. My breath caught. There was another bound woman. She was different—her hair darker, her nose slightly smaller with a gentle slope. Both women were beautiful, but unique. I flipped the page again. Another woman, her body twisted by the rope that bound her. Her mouth was open on a silent scream, and I was unsure if it was one of pleasure or pain.

  Transfixed by morbid curiosity, I continued to flip through the book, finding sketch after lewd sketch. I tried to appreciate the artist’s skill, but all I could focus on were the women, their faces contorted in various states of erotic expression. Some were serenely blissful, others shouting out. I couldn’t tell if those women were screaming for more or for mercy, and that unsettled me more than anything.

  I was about a third of the way through the book when I gasped. This woman wasn’t bound. She wasn’t naked. It was a close-up portrait of her face. Her dark hair contrasted with her pale skin. Her irises were nearly black, almost swallowed by her dilated pupils. Her eyes were so wide that her long lashes brushed her brows, and her full lips were parted on a gasp that mirrored my own.

  It wasn’t just the look of shock, the hint of fear in her eyes, that resembled my current state. I was looking at myself.

  “
That’s you, on the night I met you.”

  I yelped and nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Marco’s deep voice. His massive body filled the open doorway, and his black eyes studied me with keen interest.

  “I went to that dive bar at Harvard, looking for Joseph so I could bring him home,” he continued. “I found you there. My people who’d tracked him down told me he had a girlfriend. I knew if I confronted you, Joseph would come straight for me.”

  He stepped into the room, but I couldn’t move away. I was frozen, locked in place by his dark stare. My breathing came fast and shallow as he approached. He didn’t stop until mere inches separated our bodies. Just like on the night we’d met, he leaned over me, his powerful aura bearing down on me. My heart hammered in my chest, signaling that I should flee.

  But I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the floor, and my fingers were going numb around the leather binding of the sketchpad.

  Marco’s sketchpad. His drawings. His darkness, put down on paper in lurid detail.

  One corner of his lips twitched. “You were so pretty, with your big blue eyes all wide. Like a frightened doe. I understood why Joseph had become obsessed with you.” He gestured at the book. “Turn the page, curious little girl. You know you want to.”

  “I don’t,” I squeaked. “I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

  “Turn. The. Page.”

  My fingers flicked to the next page before I could think of protesting. His darkness pulsed around me, lighting up my body with awareness of his nearness.

  “Look,” he commanded.

  “I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I don’t want to see any more. I’m sorry I—”

  “Look.” The word cracked through the air like a whip, and my eyes flicked down to the page.