First Comes Blood by Lilith Vincent

14

Chiara

Iblink, and suddenly I’m staring at the reflection of myself in an expensive satin wedding dress, my hair pinned up and my face carefully accented with makeup.

That’s what it feels like, anyway. The morning of my wedding has dawned and my bridesmaids are here in their pastel gowns. I’ve spent the last night I ever will under this roof, and tonight Salvatore will carry me over the threshold into his home.

“I have to sit down.” I collapse onto the end of the bed and put my head between my knees.

Candace rubs my back. “Nerves, poor thing.”

It’s not nerves. It’s humiliation and disappointment that I’ve been rejected by the one man in the city I thought would help me.

If he ever scares you or does anything you don’t like, I’m here. I’m nothing like him.

Bambina, there’s danger at every turn in this city. Sometimes three is better than one. Have a think about that.

Cassius Ferragamo is full of shit. Was a four million dollar engagement ring not incentive enough to help me when he offered on two separate occasions to be my knight in shining armor? The first time was at the fountain the night I got drunk on tequila shots and he saw the tearstains on my face. He knew how cruel Salvatore could be. The second was at the deserted warehouse the night I was nearly raped and murdered.

But it was neither of those occasions that made me reach out to him a week ago. It was what he did exactly one year earlier on my seventeenth, right after Mom was murdered. I lost it completely, screaming and crying and grabbing the person nearest me and begging them not to leave me alone with Mom’s murderer.

That man was Cassius Ferragamo.

As I sobbed hysterically and begged him not to go, he murmured words only I could hear. I’m sorry, I can’t help you tonight. You have to wait. I promise I’ll be back.

He would help me, but not yet.

And I believed him.

I take a deep breath and sit up. It’s just another hard lesson I had to learn. Fathers are murderers, fiancés are cruel, and knights in shining armor will take your four million dollar diamond ring and run. I know it’s a four million dollar ring because that’s what my father bellowed at me when I told him I lost it.

You lost Salvatore Fiore’s four million dollar engagement ring?

I can only imagine what he would have said if I told him the truth. Actually, I used it to bribe Salvatore’s former best friend to smuggle me out of the country, and he ignored me.

I pull the lace veil over my face and let my bridesmaids escort me downstairs to Dad and the waiting wedding car.

Before I get inside, I turn around and look at the house that was my home for seventeen years, and my prison for one. For a second I think I see the outline of someone standing in one of the upstairs windows, her face in shadow.

I’m sorry, Mom. You died for nothing.

At the church, I stand in the vestibule next to Dad, bouquet in hand, while Rosaline, Sophia and Candace spread out the train of my wedding gown. Organ music plays from within.

There’s a sudden, loud bang from inside the church and voices rise in confusion.

“Wait here,” Dad says, and pushes through the doors. I only get a quick look inside but people are milling about, and I wonder if something’s fallen over inside the church. Is that smoke drifting through the air?

My bridesmaids gasp in shock and hurry forward to see for themselves. As the door closes behind them, I feel the air pressure change around me. I whirl around and see that two tall figures dressed head to toe in black and wearing black ski masks are looming over me.

The taller of the two men in black smiles, and I recognize those deep brown eyes. “Bambina. I told you I’d be back.”

I asked Cassius Ferragamo for help, but as he bears down on me, the black sweater he’s wearing stretched tight across his chest and his leather gloved hands poised to grab me, he knows this isn’t the help I was hoping for.

But he’s doing it anyway.

I brandish my bouquet of flowers like a weapon. “Get away from me!”

I back away, toward the door into the church. There’s a leaner man next to him, almost as tall, that has to be Vinicius. My high heel catches the edge of a tile, and I stumble. The satin dress drags across the floor, weighing me down.

From inside the church, I hear Dad yell, “You. What are you doing here?”

There are shrieks and shouts of alarm from within the church and the sound of pounding feet. Cassius scoops me up in his arms like I’m nothing just as Lorenzo Scava, dressed in black combat pants and a polo shoves open the door and is framed against the huge gold cross at the far end of the aisle. Soft light from the stained-glass window falls across his powerful shoulders.

He’s got his ski mask pulled up, revealing his face. As he sees me pinned against Cassius, his mouth curves into a triumphant smile that freezes my blood.

Over his shoulder I see Salvatore standing at the altar at the far end of the church. He sees me in Cassius’ arms.

His mouth falls open in horror. And he starts to run.

Seeing the fear on his face, my heart lurches. I’ve made a huge mistake. I should never have asked Salvatore’s enemies for help. My three assailants pause just long enough to give my groom, Dad, and everyone inside the church a clear view of what they’re doing, and then they start to run outside, taking me with them.

“Salvatore!” I scream as Lorenzo lets go of the heavy door and it starts to close. My fiancé is running as fast as he can toward me, an expression of horror and fury on his face. He’s not going to make it in time. I know it before I even finish screaming his name.

Lorenzo’s black Mercedes 4WD is waiting by the curb, all the doors open, and Cassius bundles me into the back seat. I stare desperately out the window with my hands pressed against the glass as Salvatore bursts out of the doors. He’s so far away, but he runs as fast as he can, arms pumping.

Lorenzo throws the car keys to Vinicius and gets in on my other side. “You drive. I need to check her over.”

All the doors slam, Vinicius steps on the gas and we roar away from the church. My throat burns with despair as we accelerate away and Salvatore becomes smaller and smaller until he finally gives up.

Cassius is holding me tight against him and I wrench myself from side to side. “Let go of me. Don’t touch me!”

Lorenzo grasps my wrist and wrenches me around to face him. “Where’s the GPS device?”

The microchip. The little piece of silicone in the back of my neck that I’ve hated for the past ten months is actually going to do me some good.

“No answer, princess? Then we’re doing this the hard way. Cassius, hold her arms.” Lorenzo pulls off my shoes and starts to feel his way up my calves while Cassius holds my wrists with a vice-like grip. I struggle with all my strength but it does me no good. My bridal bouquet slips from my fingers and falls to the floor of the car.

“Nothing here,” Lorenzo mutters. He reaches beneath my skirt and I try to kick him in the gut. He grabs my ankle and pins it against the seat with his hip.

“Get your hands off me!”

Lorenzo ignores me, takes hold of one of my stockings and rips it off my leg. “Want to keep fighting me, princess? I’m going for your panties next.”

“I’ll kill you,” I seethe. He knows it’s an empty threat as much as I do.

Lorenzo pulls out his knife. “This dress is coming off. Keep fighting me, and you’ll have me carving chunks off your body as well.”

My eyes latch onto that knife. It looks evil in his grip, the honed edge glinting with malice.

I shrink back against Cassius’ chest. “Please, don’t.”

“Then tell me where it is,” he growls, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him.

There’s something preternatural in his cold blue gaze, like he can see right to my soul.

“It’s in the back of my neck,” I mutter. “How do you even know about that?”

“I’ve got eyes and ears all over this town.” Lorenzo puts the knife away, sits forward and reaches for me. Cassius’ chest is as hard as a plank of wood against my back as Lorenzo strokes my nape, a mocking smile on his lips. They come dangerously close to mine. “It would be a shame not to kiss the bride on her wedding day.”

“Fuck you,” I whisper.

“Not right now, I’m busy.” His fingers press and prod until he finds the tiny lump on the back of my neck. “I can feel it. Vinicius, take us to the compound. I can’t do this here.”

Vinicius turns the wheel. “On my way.”

Lorenzo stays where he is, face too close to mine. Crowded between the two men, I can feel both their hearts pounding. “I asked Cassius to help me, not all of you kidnap me on my wedding day.”

Lorenzo wraps his hands around my waist. Tight. Possessive. “We are helping. You’re welcome, princess.”

From the front seat, Vinicius laughs.

Cassius digs inside a pocket and pulls out my diamond engagement ring on the tip of his forefinger. He holds it up to the light. “We’ve never been proposed to before. So romantic, bambina. We accept.”

He takes my hand and forces the ring back onto my finger. I stare at it, my mouth going dry. “That’s not why I sent you the ring. Didn’t you read my letter? I wanted Cassius to get me out of the country. Just Cassius. This has nothing to do with the rest of you.”

Vinicius pulls off his ski mask as he drives. “When you ask for assistance from men like us, you don’t get to be picky about how you get it.”

I’m pressed even tighter between the two men as we veer onto the freeway and Lorenzo’s weight crushes me against Cassius. They keep me pinned between them the whole drive.

Ten minutes or so later, we pull up to a property with high concrete walls. A heavy black gate opens, revealing several men in black combat gear holding onto snarling German Shepherds. Vinicius turns the car into the property and I get a glimpse of a large and imposing house before we’re speeding into an underground garage.

Will Dad and Salvatore be able to find me down here? The signal probably won’t even work, and even if it does, Lorenzo is going to smash the tracker as soon as he cuts it out of my neck.

Vinicius parks in a bay and Cassius gets out, scoops me up in his arms and carries me. Lorenzo leads the way down a long concrete hallway and then through a door. I’m put down just inside, shoved forward, and the door is slammed behind me.

I stare around the room, my blood roaring in my ears. There are stainless steel tables, medical lamps and shelves of glass and plastic bottles. The floor slopes down toward drains. It’s a cross between a morgue and an operating room, and it’s giving me a huge case of the creeps. I’m alone in here with the most dangerous man I’ve ever met.

Lorenzo snaps black latex gloves on over his tattooed hands and points to one of the metal tables, which is roughly human-sized. “Sit.”

I back away, not daring to take my eyes off him. “Don’t you dare come near me, you psycho.”

Lorenzo gives me a sly smile. “Trust me. I’m a doctor.”

“You’re joking. Someone gave you a medical degree?”

He goes to a glass-fronted cabinet and places things on a metal tray. A vial of liquid. A hypodermic needle. Gauze. A kidney dish and, most terrifying of all, a scalpel. “Oh, I didn’t bother with the exams.”

“Then how do you know what you’re doing?” What the hell is he doing?

He places the tray down, sticks the hypodermic needle in the vial and draws back clear fluid. Then he advances on me, brandishing the needle. “I guess we’ll find out. Give me your arm.”

I back away around the room, my feet bare on the cold concrete and the satin dress dragging across the floor. “Not in a million years.”

“Listen, moron. I’ll happily cut you without an anesthetic, but Cassius asked me to play nice. So, give me your arm.”

“What is that? I’m allergic to about a thousand things.” I’m allergic to nothing, but he doesn’t know that.

Lorenzo’s gaze narrows, but he keeps coming. “It’s a local anesthetic. What medications are you allergic to?”

“Anesthetics. All of them.”

The longer I stall, the better chance Dad and Salvatore have of finding me, but what miserable choices these are. Stay kidnapped for god knows what purpose, or go home and marry my despicable fiancé.

Better the devil I know, I guess.

Lorenzo shakes his head. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got epis if you go into shock. Give me your fucking arm.”

“If you think I’m letting you stick me with anything—”

Lorenzo holds up his fist. “Two choices. I punch you in the face until you pass out, or you start cooperating. Either way, I’m sticking you with this needle.”

He will punch me. I can see it in his eyes. So much for The Hippocratic Oath, first, do no harm. Maybe they only make you swear that if you pass your exams.

“Fine,” I mutter, and hold out my arm.

“Sit on the table. I’m not catching you if you faint.”

It creeps me out to go anywhere near his horrible metal tables but I clamber up onto one and perch on the edge. Lorenzo grasps my wrist and pulls a rubber tourniquet around my upper arm.

“Pump your fist open and closed. Let’s see those pretty veins.”

I do as I’m told and a thick blue vein stands out at the bend of my elbow. I watch him closely, eyeing the needle in his black gloved hand. His blue eyes are burning bright.

“Most people don’t watch this part,” he says, hovering the needle over my arm.

I’ve never been afraid of needles or blood and I want to see exactly what this psycho is doing to me. “I’ll watch every little thing you do to me, doctor.”

As the needle slips into my vein and he depresses the plunger, something occurs to me. “If the chip is in the back of my neck, why are you putting a local anesthetic in my bloodstream? Shouldn’t it go in my neck?”

Lorenzo doesn’t look at me as he tosses the hypodermic aside. “No kidding, idiot.”

My mouth falls open in horror. “Wait, what did you—” A second later, dizziness washes over me. I stare at Lorenzo while he smirks coldly at me and watches me fall in a heap on the table. I wait to pass out, but I don’t. I try to sit up but my arms are numb and heavy.

I’m wide awake.

I just can’t move.

Lorenzo hoists my legs up onto the table, braces his hands either side of my head and gives me an evil smile.

My mouth works. I can still move my jaw, but my tongue feels thick. “What are you doing to me?”

Lorenzo lifts my hand and then lets it drop with a thud. “Apparently, whatever the fuck I want.”

Anger and despair overwhelm me. I stopped fighting for one second. Just one second. Why did I ever believe he was telling the truth? Tears fill my eyes and run down my temples.

Lorenzo leans over me and licks one of the tearstains, and says softly, “The other two want to play with you, but I knew you were worthless the night I met you. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t bother taking this chip out. I’d drive you out to the desert and use you as target practice, and then let Salvatore find your body. I’d give you a head start so I could chase you. Maybe you’d live. But probably you wouldn’t. Then we’d see how many deals he can make with your father behind our backs.”

I see it burning in his eyes: his desire for revenge for losing to Salvatore, and he’s going to get it in pounds of my flesh.

Footsteps sound along the corridor outside and Cassius opens the door. In a cold, flat voice, he asks, “Have you got that chip out of her yet?”

“It’s coming,” Lorenzo calls back without moving, and the door slams closed again.

More tears leak from the corners of my eyes. “Do you always do what the others tell you to do? You’re like a trained dog.”

As quick as a snake, Lorenzo slaps me across the face, turning my head to one side. Pain blossoms in my cheek and I can’t turn my head back.

“Mouthy little bitch. We’ll see how long that lasts,” he growls.

I can hear him clanging around with various instruments. The next thing I know he’s rolled me onto my side and he’s holding a scalpel in front of my face. “I was going to use this to get that chip out of your neck, but seeing as you have a poisonous mouth, I’ll use…” He switches the scalpel with what he has in his other hand. It’s a much bigger blade, but it’s not the honed edge that makes my heart pound.

It’s Lorenzo’s knife. That knife. The one Dad used to kill Mom.

“You don’t like that, do you?”

“Please don’t,” I whimper.

“It’s too late for please. Next time, don’t be a bitch.”

I can feel Lorenzo’s fingers on the back of my neck, and then a pulling at my skin with something sharp. I can’t feel any physical pain as he cuts into me, but I want to curl up and die the pain in my heart is so overwhelming.

“There it is. Jensen!” Lorenzo suddenly roars, and another door opens on the other side of the room. A man wearing motorcycle leathers comes over to the table and Lorenzo passes him the chip. “Take this for a ride about the city for a few hours and then dump it in the lake.”

“Yes, boss.” Jensen tucks the chip into his pocket, takes a bored glance at the bleeding girl in the wedding dress, and heads out.

Lorenzo wipes something cold over the back of my neck and slaps on some gauze. Then he rolls me onto my back. “What a waste of time. You’d better hope you keep the other two amused because as soon as they’re bored, I’ll slit your throat.”

He doesn’t look at me as he tidies up his medical equipment and his face is a blank, inhuman mask. Now that his “fun” is over, he’s switched off completely.

I stare at his back, filled with hatred over what he’s done to me, my hands curling into angry fists.

My hands.

I can move them.

“Lorenzo,” I call, but he ignores me. “Can I ask you a question?”

He pulls off his black latex gloves with a snap and doesn’t bother turning around. I stare at his muscular back, hatred threading every vein of my body.

“That night. My seventeenth birthday. Did you hand him your knife?”

The knife that killed my mother. Did Lorenzo give it to my father, or did Dad take it from him?

Lorenzo freezes and raises his head. I can’t see his face, but I can hear the cruel smile in his voice as he says, “What do you think?”

I grab the scalpel lying in the kidney dish like a dagger, lurch to my unsteady feet and bring it down between his shoulder blades with a scream.

Lorenzo whips around and grabs my wrist. The scalpel blade is an inch from his cheek.

“Let me go! I hate you.” I grapple in his grip but he’s too strong.

“Don’t attack if you don’t know you’ll kill,” he growls, and sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of my forearm.

I scream in pain and the scalpel falls from my fingers.

Lorenzo goes on biting me, his eyes filled with rage and his jaw locked around my arm. I go on screaming, expecting it will bring the others running, but the door stays closed. He could be killing me and they don’t care.

I’m on the verge of passing out from the pain when Lorenzo releases me. I fall into a heap at his feet, my legs like rubber from the drugs.

The scalpel is lying a foot away on the concrete and Lorenzo bends down and snatches it up. Twisting the glinting object in front of my face, he seethes, “The fuck is this? Don’t stab with a scalpel. Steal it, hide it, and creep into my room at night and slash my throat.” He jabs a forefinger deep into the side of my neck. “Right here. You feel that? That’s the jugular vein, two centimeters in. Cut that with this little blade and I’ll be unconscious within a minute. Even if I get my hands around your throat, I’ll pass out before I can strangle you to death.”

Lorenzo’s hand slips around my throat. He stares at my lips, which I’ve bitten until they’re swollen this past hour. He runs the pad of his thumb over the indentations from my teeth as if he’s fascinated by them. As if each one is precious. His thumb swipes across my lips again and I pant against his touch, struggling to breathe as he grips my throat. Lorenzo’s cold, pale cheeks darken. Reddening with blood.

He stands up suddenly and throws aside the scalpel, as if disgusted I haven’t tried to kill him properly.

“Vinicius, Cassius!” he roars at the door. “Get this fucking idiot out of my sight.”

A moment later, Vinicius is bending over me and hauling me to my feet. He’ll answer this asshole’s orders and not my screams. Before I can say a word, he slaps a piece of duct tape over my mouth and covers my head with a pillowcase. He tries to walk me out of the room but thanks to Lorenzo’s drugs I can’t walk properly, so he hoists me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

I’m slung into the back of a car and we’re on the move again. I try to count the turns and the passing minutes, but my head is spinning and the back of my neck stings. The car is parked, and someone helps me walk.

The ground beneath my feet lurches, and a moment later my ears pop. We’re in an elevator and we’re going up. It takes a long time so I assume this must be a skyscraper. My heart leaps. A skyscraper is full of people and security.

I’m led out of the elevator and across carpeted floors. Someone pulls the pillowcase from my head. Vinicius. He rips the duct tape from my mouth without looking me in the eye. We’re in a bedroom. I open my mouth to ask him what’s happening, but he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I turn around slowly. A bed. A chest of drawers. A small bathroom through a door. The windows are floor to ceiling along one wall and I hurry over, wondering if there’s any way I could signal to someone. I recognize from the buildings that we’re in downtown Coldlake, but there’s nothing close enough for me to hope to signal to someone for help. I can make out people far below on the street, and they crawl like ants, oblivious to me far above them.

Beyond the door to my room, I can’t hear anything. Either the men have left, or they’re in some distant part of the apartment. We’re so high up that I suppose this could be a penthouse. Cassius’ apartment, or maybe Vinicius’? The horrible place they took me too first was probably Lorenzo’s.

I sink down onto the bed, feeling my wedding dress crumple around me. There are twelve purple and red teeth marks on my arm, six at the top and six at the bottom, a grisly reminder that if I’m going to try and kill one of these men, I better know that I’ll succeed.

After a while, the adrenalin hyping me up ebbs away, and I realize how uncomfortable I am in my wedding dress. I go over to the drawers and start going through them. There are sweaters. Joggers. T-shirts. Denim shorts. Socks. Underwear. All in roughly my size, so I know they planned this. No shoes, I notice. There’s nothing in this room that could help me run away or be used as a weapon, unless I want to try strangling one of the men to death with my panties. I don’t think I’d get far, though.

I shed my wedding dress and bridal lingerie and pull on underwear, a T-shirt and some joggers.

Then I go to the window and stare out. I wonder what Dad and Salvatore are doing. Running around town after Jensen on his motorcycle, I suppose. The last thing I want is to be kept captive here, but I can’t bring myself to wish that I’ll be rescued by them, either.

I think of my bridesmaids, and how terrified they must be for me, and I realize that I’ve grown attached to Rosaline, Candace and Sophia. They’ve been there for me this year while I’ve struggled to make sense of this unfamiliar world. I wish they were here now, if only so I could hear them curse out Cassius, Vinicius and Lorenzo for stealing me from their beloved Salvatore.

Hours later, I get up and go to the bathroom. My stomach rumbles and my eyes burn with exhaustion. I drink from the tap to fill my belly and splash water onto my face.

It’s getting dark outside, and so I crawl into bed and pull the covers up over my head. There’s only silence around me, and it’s deafening. I don’t know how I’m going to relax when I don’t know if someone’s going to charge into my room and take me to another location or do something even worse.

But somehow, after laying still for a long time, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, the light in the room has changed. It’s morning, and sunshine is streaming through the window. I sit up and listen, but hear nothing. My stomach growls, sounding loud in the silence.

I use the bathroom and drink more water, and then my eyes land on the door handle. Is that door actually locked, or did I just assume it was?

I try the door and it opens easily. I stare at the hallway beyond, frozen with shock. That’s crazy, and I feel stupid for not trying the door last night.

I’m greeted with more silence, so I start edging along the carpet, poised to run if anyone jumps out at me. The hall opens into a huge, sunny living room with expensive modern furniture in neutral colors.

The apartment is filled with the sort of silence and stillness that tells me I’m alone, but I search every room that I can get into just the same. A few doors are locked, but otherwise I’m free to roam the penthouse. The elevator doesn’t respond when I press the button, but I never expected it would. If there are stairs, then the door to reach them is locked.

Seeing as I can’t escape, I turn to my next pressing need: food.

The kitchen is huge, but there’s nothing in the refrigerator except sparkling water, and nothing in the freezer except for Grey Goose vodka. Cassius must eat out all the time. The apartment feels like it belongs to the big, dark-haired Italian man.

I find two biscotti in a box by the coffee machine and eat the rock-hard pieces, chasing them down with some sparkling water. I consider the vodka briefly, but since my misadventures with tequila, I haven’t touched alcohol. Now doesn’t seem the best time to start again.

I spend the rest of the day wandering around the apartment trying to fathom what I’m doing here and learning more about the man who’s holding me captive. Cassius has a taste for modern art prints and history books.

It’s growing dark outside when a rushing sound fills the air, like something big getting closer and closer. I’m lying on one of the sofas with a bottle of sparkling water and staring at the glittering lights of the city, when suddenly the elevator pings and the doors slide open. I glimpse more than one man as I jump to my feet.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

There’s a bathroom halfway down the corridor and as it’s closer than “my” room, I dive inside just as Cassius calls, “Chiara? Come here.”

“Screw you,” I mutter, and slam the door behind me. My heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest. I can hear them out there, talking, Cassius and at least two others.

The back of my neck prickles and I realize it’s the plaster that Lorenzo stuck over the cut he gave me. I prod at it for a moment, and then peel it off.

I’m standing with my back to the mirror trying to peer over my shoulder at my own neck when the door slams open, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Lorenzo glares at me from the doorway, and then sees the bandage with dried blood on it in my hand.

“What are you doing with that?” he snaps.

“Trying to see how badly you cut me, you psycho.”

He turns me around, grabs my hair in his fist and pulls it up, inspecting the mark. I watch his reflection in the mirror as he peers at me. The hard line of his jaw. That narrowed blue gaze. The ink decorating his fingers that disappears into his sleeves. If he has tattooed hands then he must have tattoos everywhere. All over his body.

“You made a mess of me, didn’t you?” I accuse.

“It’s healing fine. What are you so worried about?”

His bare hand is on the nape of my neck and he’s standing so close I can feel the heat from his body. I wish my skin would crawl where he’s touching me, not tingle.

“I’m worried because you butchered me with a hunting knife!”

A cold smile spreads over his face and he strokes the nape of my neck as he meets my eyes in the mirror. The tingles become a jolt. “Such a little drama queen. I barely touched you.” Lorenzo lets me go. “Get the fuck out there. I’ve got shit to do tonight.”

He pushes me out of the bathroom and toward the lounge where I can hear the rustle of paper bags and Cassius and Vinicius talking. I suppose they were all working today, Cassius doing nightclub stuff and Lorenzo and Vinicius…I don’t know what they get up to. Probably nothing legal.

“What shit to do? What do you do, anyway?”

“Organ harvesting,” Lorenzo says, without missing a beat as we walk over to the sofas where Vinicius and Cassius are unpacking boxes of takeout and chopsticks.

I can’t tell if Lorenzo’s joking or not. The fact that he’s got so much medical equipment gives me the creeps.

He palms my lower back like a lover and murmurs, “How are those kidneys of yours? Fully functioning?”

I push his arm away. “Don’t touch me, asshole.”

“In your dreams, bitch,” he replies, and shoves me onto the U-shaped sofa. He sits down as well and I move around it until I’m four feet away from him.

The coffee table is loaded with Chinese takeout boxes and a savory aroma fills the air. My stomach growls in response, and Vinicius smiles as he opens a box and holds it out to me.

“I heard that. Egg roll?”

There are half a dozen golden, fried egg rolls in the box. As hungry as I am, I’m too freaked out to move.

Vinicius shakes the box at me. “Egg roll? No? Suit yourself.” He takes one from the box and bites into it. The wrapper crackles and a few flakes fall onto the carpet at his feet, and my mouth waters.

“Mio Dio, you’re making a mess,” Cassius tuts, and shoves a plate at him. Yep, it’s definitely Cassius’ apartment.

“What am I doing here? What do you all want with me?”

Cassius raises heavy-lidded eyes to me, but turns his attention back to the food. He opens an enormous bag of prawn crackers and empties them into a bowl. I stare at them. I love prawn crackers and the weird way they stick to your tongue. Adjacent to me, Lorenzo eats Singapore noodles straight from the box, his eyes never leaving my face.

Cassius makes up a plate with fried rice, noodles and chicken stir-fry, adds a pair of chopsticks and holds it out to me.

I stare at the plate, and then at him. I’m supposed to just eat with them like being kidnapped is normal?

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” I point at Lorenzo but keep my gaze locked on Cassius. “You let that bastard molest me and cut me up. I’m not going to sit here and eat Chinese food with you all.”

“You are a little stray cat with nowhere to go,” he says in his thick accent. “You should be grateful we don’t lock you in a cage and throw you scraps.”

“What do you mean a stray? You kidnapped me.”

Vinicius digs in a box of Szechuan chicken with his chopsticks. “We rescued you from a dangerous life. If it weren’t for us you’d be married to Salvatore by now.”

Sure, they’re so altruistic. The reality is they sabotaged my wedding to prevent their ex-friend from getting any advantage over them with my father.

“You didn’t want to marry Salvatore and your father would have killed you for disobeying him. Be thankful you’re here and eat.” Cassius offers me the plate again, but when I don’t take it he sits back and starts to eat it himself. He and Vinicius continue their conversation and my stomach growls loudly.

Eat. Just like that, as if everything’s fine now. I gaze at the food, recognizing the name of my favorite Chinese restaurants on the boxes. Mom and I used to eat lunch there after a morning of shopping because she loved their soup dumplings so much.

A pang goes through me at the memory, and I find myself looking around for some. “Are there any soup dumplings?”

I don’t expect anyone to pay me any attention, but Lorenzo reaches inside a paper bag and pulls out a plastic box steamed up on the inside. I reach for it, but he pulls it out of my reach. I was expecting him to do something like that, though, and I don’t react.

“If you really wanted to screw with me, you’d dump them all in the trash. Soup dumplings were my mother’s favorite.”

He chews for a moment, and then hands them over. “It’s no fun when you hand me your torment on a silver platter.”

As I peel back the plastic lid, fragrant steam rises around my face and I close my eyes and breathe in the aroma of pork and ginger. Lunch with Mom. No cares except for returning a dress that doesn’t fit or wondering if we have enough time for dessert before Mom’s next appointment. With a pair of chopsticks, I pick up a dumpling and shove the whole thing into my mouth. As I bite into the soft wrapper and meatball, the broth inside fills my mouth and I close my eyes in bliss. Mom would always order soup dumplings and let me eat some of hers while I tucked into Shanghai fried noodles with sliced beef.

When I open my eyes, all three of the men are staring at me.

“What? I like soup dumplings.”

A few minutes later, Cassius stands up to fetch a bottle of wine and glasses and sees I’ve eaten all the soup dumplings. He pats my cheek as he sits down. “Good girl.”

Good girl. I wonder if that’s a trick he learned from managing his club girls and strippers, a little bit of praise to keep them in line. To my surprise, he passes me a glass of wine along with the other two, and a bowl of noodles and some fresh chopsticks.

The white wine is cold and smells like apricots. Infinitely more appealing than tequila, and not dry like champagne, so I take a sip.

“How are things at the compound?” Vinicius asks Lorenzo.

“Almost empty. Things are quiet on the streets right now.”

The compound. That must be where Lorenzo lives. I keep my eyes on my noodles as I eat and pretend not to listen to their conversation. Sooner or later, I’ll hear something that will help me get out of here. An escape route. A bargaining chip. These men are only out for what they can get.

I can feel Lorenzo’s sharp gaze on the side of my neck. If I can’t find a way out of here soon, I’ll probably end up with my throat slit.

“I’m sure you’ll have your hands full now that our little guest has been taken,” Cassius says.

Lorenzo swears under his breath, as if whatever consequences he and Cassius are envisioning are all my fault.

An hour later, the men are still talking and have opened another bottle of wine. They speak in jargon only they understand and it feels too awkward to go on sitting there. I gather up the leftovers and take them to the refrigerator as an excuse to leave, and then head toward the room I slept in last night.

As I’m passing a door, two hands grab me and drag me into a darkened room. I’m shoved up against a wall. The light from the hall glints on strands of blond hair.

Lorenzo.

“We’re on the same page, you and me,” he growls, pushing his face close to mine. “Neither of us know what the fuck you’re doing here. The other two’ve had a hard-on for you for the past year. I don’t know why they’re not getting the hell on with it.”

Getting on with screwing me. The night of my seventeenth birthday, Lorenzo seemed as interested in getting into my underwear as the others were. Actually, he’s the only one who did get into my underwear, ripping it away and sliding the hilt of his knife against me.

“I thought you—” But I stop myself before it sounds like I’m trying to talk him into having sex with me.

“You thought I wanted you too?” He laughs. “I’d rather fuck a rotting corpse than a scrawny virgin like you. You were useless to me once your father decided Salvatore was going to marry you.”

His words that night come back to me. I don’t want anything from your father, or from you. I just like to win. Once I marry you, I’ll probably slit your throat on our wedding night.

Lorenzo releases me. “Keep out of my way. Better yet, keep out of my sight.”

“Gladly,” I fling at him as I shove him away. “The thought of you looking at me, let alone touching me, makes me want to throw up.”

I feel his eyes boring into my back as I walk down the hall. I don’t know what’s worse, Cassius babying me or Lorenzo’s venom. At least with Lorenzo I know what to expect. Pure hatred, and a violent end.

* * *

The next dayI wake up to an empty apartment. I spend the morning trying to find a phone or a device that will let me send an email or log onto my social media, but Cassius has been thorough about removing anything I might access. I watch TV and eat leftover Chinese food, finding it ironic that it’s day three of being kidnapped and I’m bored already.

In the afternoon I go back to my room for a nap and sleep for a few hours. It’s dark when I wake up and stare at the ceiling. More leftovers and TV, and then back to bed I suppose? I can’t hear any voices in the apartment so I assume the men are out extorting or gambling or beating someone up.

As I walk into the lounge, Cassius enters from the other side, and I suck in a breath. He’s fresh from the shower with a white towel knotted low on his hips and he’s drying his black curls with another.

His eyes widen as he sees me staring at him, and he slowly lowers his hand.

“Bambina. I want to talk to you.” He sits down on the sofa and indicates the spot next to him.

I stay where I am, excruciatingly self-conscious about being in the same room as a semi-naked man. Cassius is just so big, and he lounges on the sofa like a king. I try to look everywhere but at him. “Don’t you, uh, want to put on some clothes?”

“Sit down.”

I remember what happened the last time I sat too close to Cassius, and I perch on a cushion several feet away.

Cassius’ dark eyes flicker with annoyance. “Chiara, you’re trapped in here with me and I have a nasty temper. Did I say sit there?”

Goddammit. I move a little closer.

As soon as he can reach me, Cassius scoops an arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap. I sit astride him, my hands pressed against his bare chest and frozen in fear, waiting for him to do something horrible. His hands capture my waist, holding me securely.

And he just watches me.

I stare back. At his short, neat beard. Those deep brown eyes of his. His chest is damp, and a droplet of water rolls from his collarbone down his muscles and gets lost among the black hairs on his chest.

He’s watching me look at him, getting used to all his bare skin and muscles. Even though he’s nearly twice my age, he’s kind of sexy and he knows it, but not in an obnoxious way, like Vinicius. His lap is large and warm and his fingers ever so slightly massage my lower back.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” I whisper, and my voice comes out huskier than I’d like it to be.

“Do you have everything you need here?”

His deep voice reverberates beneath my fingertips. I pull my hands away, but he reaches up and puts them back on his chest, not breaking eye contact.

Kind of sexy?

Dangerously sexy.

“No, I don’t. I don’t know what I’m doing here. What do you want from me?”

“We’re trying something.”

“You and me?”

Cassius shifts me higher in his lap so my thighs are hugging his hips. “All four of us.”

These guys have been dropping hints about sharing and three is better than one for the past year. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know people have threesomes and group sex, but is that really what they’re interested in?

“I don’t understand.”

“Some years ago, after an experience that caused some…” He hesitates, trying to find the right word, “damage, we decided we wanted to try something. The four of us. One woman. But we never found the right someone.”

My mouth falls open. “Please tell me you’re just making conversation and this has nothing to do with me.”

One of Cassius’ perfectly groomed brows quirks.

“You all want a…wife?”

“Closer than a wife, and not so traditional.”

My nose wrinkles in disgust. “A sex slave?”

“Nothing so unwilling. A woman the four of us could share. That we could all protect. All cherish. In this life, having too many things you care about is hazardous to your health. And hers.”

“So that’s me? I hate to break it to you, but I’m not feeling very cherished.”

He muses on that for a moment. “We didn’t mean for it to be you, but things in our lives don’t always unfold in predictable ways.”

“Here I am, so you may as well have sex with me? How flattering. I’m not interested, so let me go.”

“You asked me for help, and I’m helping you. I let you go, and you’ll end up dead. You know I’m right.”

“What about Salvatore?” I ask desperately. He won’t want me dead just because I’ve been kidnapped, will he?

“Why? Did you fall for him?” There’s an edge to his voice and I sense we’re on dangerous ground discussing his ex-friend.

“Of course not.”

But pain blossoms in my chest as I remember Salvatore’s face as his ex-friends stole me at the church. I didn’t fall for him. I grew to like him a little, but he spoiled that the night of my eighteenth birthday.

You’re beautiful like your mother, and you’re going to end up like her, too. That mouth of yours is going to be the end of you.

If I feel nothing for Salvatore, why does that hurt so much? “What happened between the four of you? He wouldn’t tell me anything except that you weren’t friends anymore.”

Cassius holds up a long forefinger. “Rule number one. No talking about that pezzo di merda.” Piece of shit.

“I have rules?”

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m already your prisoner.”

He grasps both my wrists behind my back and yanks my t-shirt up. I’m not wearing a bra because none of them fit properly, and Cassius slaps his hand across my nipple.

I yelp in pain. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Talking back. Which brings me to rule number two. No talking back. Rule number three. No trying to escape.”

He slides his thumb over my nipple and I brace myself for him to tug it viciously, but he doesn’t. He rubs my nipple firmly in a way that makes heat dart through me.

Cassius’ voice grows husky. “Rule four. Do as you’re told at all times, by all of us, or I’ll punish you.”

My breath hitches at his touch. “So, if I’m good you say good girl, and if I’m bad you’ll punish me?”

“Si, bambina.” He squeezes my breasts in his hand and my head tips back. Asshole.

“Can I try to kill Lorenzo again?”

I expect him to smack his hand over my nipple again, but to my surprise, Cassius laughs, a deep, rich sound. The vibrations travel from my nipples down to my pussy that’s pressed tightly against him.

“What’s life without a little unpredictability? Just remember that he’ll probably kill you first. I’d rather you didn’t die yet.”

“Yet?”

“You like playing with fire, bambina. You nearly died several times this year and it’s only thanks to us and Salvatore that you’re still breathing.”

He means that Geak guy who nearly killed me. Probably my father too, come to think of it. “I wasn’t in any danger until you all came into my life.”

“We’re here now. Let us worry about the danger. You just follow the rules.”

“What if I don’t?”

He raises his hand to slap my nipple again and I quickly say, “Okay, okay! I get the message.”

“What are your rules?”

“No talking about Salvatore. No talking back. No trying to escape. Do as I’m told.”

“And are you going to follow them?”

“Yes.”

No.

Of course I’m not.

As soon as I find a way out of here, I’m going to run.

Fuck Cassius’ rules.

He wraps his arm around my waist, hauls me up against his chest and pushes my joggers and underwear down my legs. Then he settles me back into place and grips my hands behind my back again, taking a good long look at my breasts and my…my everything.

Looking me dead in the eye, he licks his thumb and strokes it across my clit.

I gasp and squirm in his grip. “What—what are you doing?”

“What I always do with girls who do what I say. A little positive reinforcement.” He circles his thumb over my clit, tortuously slow. “This is what you get if you’re good.”

The last thing I want to do is be good for my captors, but there’s something about the way this big man talks to me and how his voice rumbles so soothingly in my ears. After Lorenzo’s viciousness, Cassius’ lap and his pet names, and even the pain he inflicts, is making me melt.

My pussy is melting as well, all over his fingers. I roll my hips back and forth across the bulge beneath his towel, working myself against his fingers and enjoying his hard breathing.

“Do you like it, too?” I whisper.

“Si, bambina, I like it, too.”

“Your plan won’t work. I’m happy to say that Lorenzo would rather set himself on fire than touch me.”

“You let me worry about that,” he murmurs, pushing his fingers deeper to reach where I’m slippery, and then back to my clit. I moan louder, thinking how easy it is to pretend to follow his rules when he’s about to make me burst apart in pleasure.

As I come, Cassius works his fingers faster on my clit and leans forward and clasps one of my nipples between his teeth. The pleasure and pain rocket through me and I cry out, my head falling back.

Boneless from my release, I fall against his bare chest, which is big and warm, and rest my cheek against his shoulder. My arms come around him automatically. I’ve never been held by a man before, and with the aftershocks of my orgasm racing through me I want to get even closer to him.

Cassius shoves me off him and stands up, leaving me shivering in the sudden cold on the sofa. When I look up at him, that indulgent expression has been replaced with cold indifference.

“Remember what I said, or I’ll be the one to punish you. You won’t fucking like it if I really punish you, so be good for me, and be good for Vinicius and Lorenzo.”

I wrap my arms around myself to cover my nakedness and glare at him. “I can’t be good for Lorenzo if I’m going to kill him.”

He strides out of the room, the light shifting over the heavy muscles of his back. “I’d advise you not to try. I’d like to fuck you while you’re still in one piece.”