The fact was, he’d either kill me or not. I had no control over that, so wallowing in a puddle would get me nowhere. I decided to do what every girl did in a sad situation—I made a shopping list. No big drama, just the bare necessities.
Dear Warden
I need a few things. See below.
*Breakfast (NO SANDWICHES)
*Nail Gel Remover
*Hair Conditioner
*Primer (for my face, not the walls)
*Foundation - light (I’m sure you remember the color of my skin; you should after last night)
*Concealer - lighter than foundation
*Face Powder
*Bronzer
*Blush
*Contour
*Highlighter
*Setting Spray
*Eyeshadow
*Lipstick (Ruby Red)
P.S. NO STORE BRANDS!
P.P.S. I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!
I folded the note and shoved it under the door. Then, I grabbed a fashion magazine I found in a drawer—no doubt the previous owner’s property—and flipped through it. I was done being a victim.
***
GIANI
I woke up feeling a little sensitive; Vinny’s whiskey barely touched sides. I was glad that Reggie was a late sleeper. I dragged my hungover ass out of bed and hit the shower. I felt human again afterward, and the hungover munchies drove me to the kitchen. The place was still a mess after Celina’s little tantrum. I had a good mind to fetch her from her room so she could clean up. No, I wasn’t a chauvinist, just a pissed off, hungry hitman. Mostly, I was angry at myself for wanting so much a woman I’d most likely have to kill.
Look on the bright side. The night wasn’t a total loss, Giani. At least there’s pasta leftover.
I ate as much as I could squeeze into my pie hole. No longer “hangry,” I felt confident enough to check up on my feisty prisoner. I wasn’t expecting much from her, after all, I did leave rather abruptly after our first passionate romp. I couldn’t look her in the face after being such a dog. I had a conscience—who knew?
The room was silent as I approached; hopefully, she was still asleep. When I saw the note on the floor at the bedroom door, I guessed she was awake. Curious to see what she’d written, I read it.
“What the fuck is wrong with the deli sandwiches? And what is concealer?”
There was no answer from beyond the door. I shook my head as I read the P.P.S. again. I turned and left. Let’s see you talk later when your empty stomach is nipping at your asshole! I took a drive to the gun shop; anywhere was better than the battlefield in my apartment.
It was cold outside, but at least there was no rain and snow. Winter in my comfy apartment was the antithesis of winter on the streets. Many street children got caught up in a cycle of drug abuse for various reasons. One of the compelling ones was the cold nights. A fire could only do so much to warm cold bodies; the rest was left to the Dragon. There were a handful of us who stayed away from the potholes that drugs threw you into. Others were either imprisoned, beaten up and killed by rival dealers, or overdosed. I often thought of those poor kids. As a man, I understood their plight better, but it was still sad to think back to those awful days and the friends we lost. It was one of the reasons Tony and I were still close. We shared a traumatic history. Were it not for the Coli family, I would be one of the fallen—that deserved unfailing loyalty.
I don’t know if it was the gratitude for my new life, or my “getting soft” as Vinny pointed out, but I took the scrunched up note out of my pocket and straightened it. I did treat the girl poorly last night, and I wanted to make up for it in a small way. I wasn’t a complete neanderthal—I knew that makeup and breakfast wouldn’t make up for my appalling behavior, but it was a start. She was my prisoner, not my whore.
North State Street seemed like the place an uppity girl would find her face paint. I knew less than diddly when it came to makeup; I never had a girlfriend for that long with whom to share intimate grooming habits. I needed a professional’s help. The store I visited was teeming with women who seemed to know what they were doing. I felt confident that I was in the right place.
“Excuse me”, I said to a preened young woman behind the makeup counter.
“Yes, Sir. How can I be of assistance?”
I gave her the “Santa’s wishlist.” She looked at it quizzically.
“I need your best brands for these, please.”
“Oh, for a special lady?”
“You might say that. Could you get it all together for me? I’ll pick it up this afternoon.”
Best to leave womanly matters in the competent hands of another woman. I learned nothing from my mother, except how to sterilize needles. The knowledge was lost on me; I was neither a nurse nor a drug addict.
***
CELINA
I regretted the note as the day dragged on. After very little dinner and an epic orgasm, I was ready to gnaw off my fingers. My stubborn Pisano blood told me to tell him off, to rip him a new one the moment I laid my eyes on him. Then, there was my mother’s side of my gene pool, the softer side, the side that reasoned and calculated before flying off the handle. It would be a toss-up of note—devil or angel. Pitchfork for sure if he left me to get any hungrier!
Chapter Eight
GIANI
Reggie was dressed to the nines. His was not an image tarnished by a “bad hair day.” I spotted him at the door, dressed impeccably as always—brand names only—his hair just so. He smiled as he saw me sitting at our usual table.
“There’s my main man, G! What’s shaking?” He patted me warmly on the back.
“Looking sharp as always, Reg. Life’s treating you well, I see.”
“Well, you know me. Onwards and upwards. What brings you to our neck of the woods, young man?”
“I’m working on a few things, and I thought ‘who better than Reggie to catch me up on the latest scandals.’ What’s new on the streets Mr. Connected?” He looked pleased with my appreciation for his unique talent of sucking the marrow from the bones of society.
“As a matter of fact, I do have a juicy little story for you. Buy me breakfast, and I’ll give you the lowdown.”
“Deal.” The waitress came over, and true to form, Reggie ordered the biggest, most expensive item on the menu. I didn’t mind; he was about to save my ass, or so I hoped.
Reggie had an appreciation for all ladies, no matter their station in life. Ladies of the night, cleaning staff, secretaries, the lot. It was amazing what the rich would let slip in front of the invisible help. Reg could worm just about any info out of his girls, at a small price of course. Not that the system was fair. Reggie would sell his “knowledge” to the highest bidder. I was thankful that we were friends, well close acquaintances rather. I wasn’t a snob, but Reg’s world was a tad seedy for me. But I didn’t judge—different strokes and all that.
“I assume you’ve heard of the Pisano disaster?” He had a glint in his eyes. He was like that annoying kid who told on everyone to creep up the ass of the teacher.
“Yeah, I heard. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” That really spurred him on to spill the beans. It was no secret that the Pisano’s had caused “poor” Reggie quite a bit of trouble. He wasn’t their favorite.
“The best thing is that they have absolutely no clue who hit their man and took the young Pisano princess. They have no idea what happened. I say, ‘power to the man who had the balls to fuck with those assholes.’ I’d like to shake his hand.”
“So, no clue, hey? That must be a first for the great Don Pisano.”
“Fucking brilliant!” He laughed from his gut as he slammed his hand down on the table.
“Whoever it was is a hero. So, what you working on?” He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth.
I made up a few juicy things as we ate. I had to be careful about what I told him. Reg was a sweetheart, but he made his living with his mouth; and the moment you forgot that, you’d step in a steamy pile
of trouble.
After our little catch-up, I drove back to the makeup store. I was relieved that I would live another day, that my anonymity would keep me out of the ocean for a bit longer. Long enough for me to come up with a plan.
The woman behind the counter gave me a gift bag with the items on the note. I almost fainted when I had to pay the bill. I had no idea how much crap chicks pasted on their faces. I didn’t think Celina needed it. She probably did it to piss me off. She was a natural beauty with perfect skin; pity there was no makeup for her temper.
***
CELINA
I had to admit that I was surprised when Giani returned with the items from my list. He must have spent a small fortune, the asshole. I was ecstatic to see the large pizza box he was carrying. My stomach was growling at me.
We didn’t talk much at the time which suited me just fine. I was so hungry I didn't care how unladylike I looked when I wolfed down slice after slice of lifesaving pizza. He watched me as I ate, a grin occasionally playing on his face. I was sure I looked like a worm that swallowed a pea by the time I was done.
“I’m sorry about last night. Did I hurt you?”
Okay, what the fuck just happened? Was he apologizing to me? I was so stunned that it took me a while to answer.
“You hurt my feelings more than anything else, Giani. I feel like a whore.”
“That you are not. I apologize. I’m not in the habit of forcing myself onto women; I want you to know that.”
The look on his face took the edge off my disdain for him. Who was this man? After everything he’d done to me, I would be forgiven for hating the sight of him, but seeing him vulnerable was something totally unexpected.
“I wasn’t exactly an unwilling participant. But you have to admit that this is a fucked up situation. What are we doing? I don’t even know if you’re going to kill me or not. What exactly is your plan? Do you even have a plan?”
“No.” His honesty was both unexpected and frightening.
“Why did you kill Victor?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Then explain it to me. I’ve got time.”
“I was protecting someone very important to me.”
“But Victor was a nice guy. Why would he hurt anyone?”
“You have no idea what he did for your family, do you?”
“All I know is that he was always very decent and polite to me.”
“I’m not saying he was an asshole, but his job did put him in the firing line.”
“What do you mean?”
His look told me that he was contemplating whether he should tell me the truth or not. Giani didn’t look like a gangster, not that I was in the habit of judging a book by its cover. He had a kind face, a beautiful face if I was honest with myself. His dark blue eyes had a softness to them every so often. He was a gentle lover, which was totally unexpected after the bite I unleashed on his lip. He was an enigma.
“Let’s just say he cleaned up for your father.”
“You mean he was a hitman.”
“Yes. And he was about to hit someone I love. Yes, kidnappers do love on occasion.”
“I guess so.”
“Who do you work for?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not? Who am I going to tell? You’ve got me locked uptight.”
“Who I work for is irrelevant.”
“My father has many enemies. You don’t get to where he is without others picking on you, and he is not in the habit of lying down and taking it. I can think of a number of families in this town who he needs protection from.”
“No one is ever completely innocent, but people in power tend to step over the line; that’s when they need an attitude adjustment.”
“I take it you’re the one who sets them straight.”
“When necessary, yes.”
“What makes you think my father was behind it? Perhaps Victor had a score of his own to settle.”
“Victor did what he was told to do. That was his job. No more, no less.”
“Was it over a woman? A woman you care about?”
“I can’t discuss it with you. It’s better that you don’t know. You’re safer if you don’t know.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but I could see he was done talking about it. He left the room without tying me to the bed.
***
GIANI
I left the room before I said too much. Already I had compromised myself by talking to her in the first place. Better she think I killed him over a woman, not because of the Coli hit. She wouldn’t have too many nice things to say about Dominick anyway; I imagined her father drilled his side of the story into her head. Not that the Coli’s were squeaky clean, but they were the best of a bad bunch.
The more time I spent with Celina, the more I wanted to explain myself to her. It was foolish of me to think that I could kill her. That wasn’t an option anymore; hell, I didn’t know what would be, but killing her wasn’t it.
If only I could gain her trust. If I told her the whole story, then perhaps, she would understand my position and not rat me out to her father. It was a stretch but what other approaches would work. I certainly had few, if any, options other than that. What a fucking mess. The fact that I had a hangover didn’t improve my state of mind one bit. Fortune favors the brave, Giani. Go for it.
I knocked on her door—I thought it was the least I could do. When she answered I opened the door and sat on the chaise lounge. “Shall we attempt another shot at it? I promise not to molest you again.”
“In that case, I promise not to attempt another amputation on your lip.”
“Good, what shall I buy?”
“I’ll give you one of my famous notes with a list of ingredients. No store brands.”
I laughed at that. She smiled sardonically. At least I was getting somewhere. If I appealed to her compassionate side, I may live to see another winter, or at least a summer.
“I may even wear some of the very expensive makeup you got me.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much. You don’t need it.”
***
CELINA
Great! My plan was working. Catch more flies with honey. I wrote a list of ingredients down for Giani and slipped the paper under the door. Honestly, I would dine with a serial killer if it meant I could eat a decent meal. After he left, I had a warm bath and cleaned up a little. I pretended that I was going on a date. That would help me get into the right frame of mind. I didn’t want my plan to go tits up, so I had to be nice and behave myself, or at least try.
After I titivated, I did my nails and wore the best outfit from the options he brought me. Apart from killing someone I thought I knew, knocking me unconscious twice, and feeding me crappy sandwiches, my captor could do a lot worse. Sex aside, I had hope that I wouldn’t come out of the situation too mortified.
I applied lipstick and mascara. The fillers, concealers, and all that stuff was really just to punish him. I wasn’t a makeup girl, anyway. With my mother’s black hair and dark eyes, and my high cheekbones, I didn’t need much to look decent. I was thankful for that. Wasting time in front of the mirror in the mornings wasn’t my idea of being productive. My brain was more important to me than my eyelashes.
I lay on the bed afterward and chilled for a while. The stress of the situation caught up with me, and the promise of better things to come put me right to sleep. There was the distinct possibility that wolfing down a pizza may have contributed to my fatigue. It was dark when I woke up; still half asleep, I wondered what the time was. I heard the key turn in the lock and saw from the light shining from the passage that Giani was looking at me from the doorway. He stood very still as if I were a child he didn’t want to wake.
“Oh good, you’re awake. Wanna start dinner?”
“How long have I been out for?”
“A good couple of hours. I checked in a few times, but I didn’t want to wake you up. It looked like you could do with a few hours of sl
eep.”
“Thanks, I feel better.”
“Come on, get your ass into the kitchen. I don’t buy you expensive facial products and top dollar deli sandwiches so you can laze around the bedroom all day.”
“Haha. Just wait for my bill. Watch the mail.”
And there it was! Stockholm Syndrome hit me—it had to be. I didn’t even like the creep. He was the best lover I’d ever had, but that aside, he was a jerk. Wasn’t he?
The green mile down the passage to the kitchen was peppered with deja vu. I tried not to look at the spot where he kissed me into submission. I was ashamed to admit it to myself, but I got hot just thinking about it. The isolation had clearly made me soft in the head.
I wasn’t as nervous as I was the first time I cooked for my captor. Honestly, there was nothing he could do to make me feel any more humiliated than I already was. The “wham bam thank you, ma’am” took care of that. The fresh ingredients he bought were laid out on the table, and a bottle of red wine was opened and breathing. The dining room table looked good, with flowers, lit candles, and pretty plates. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was trying to seduce me, but that ship had sailed. Perhaps I was a better lay than I had first suspected. Kidnapped, A Sexual Affair. A good title for a book.
We attempted a spot of small talk. Mental tennis is more like it.
“I don’t know anything about you, Giani. Are you a local?”
“I grew up in Chicago, yes.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“No, I’m an only child.”
“I know how that feels. Can be lonely at times, but I’m not a great sharer. Not parental love, and definitely not food. Remember that next time you bring me a pizza.”
“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll make a mental note. I only know who you are, now, but I don’t know much about you. What do you do for a living when you’re not hanging here with me, that is?”
“I own and operate a financial company. I’m all about money and shoes. By the way, I only bit your lip gently because you didn’t ruin my brand new Italian boots.”
Ruthless Captor: A Mafia Romance (Corrupt Minds Book 3) Page 8