Only for a while. Maximus is never far from my mind, even if he’s no longer here.
He left for business, and I have no idea how long he’ll be gone. I thought this time alone would be welcome, especially since solitude is what I’m used to. But that’s not the case anymore.
I’ve grown accustomed to having my husband nearby.
Do I miss him? My heart answers me before my mind can tell it not to. I do. Not in a desperate way though. I just miss his ever-present strength and assertiveness. Whenever he’s with me, I don’t have to worry about anyone hurting me. Maximus used to be the one who frightened me, but that’s changed. I can’t quite figure out when or why, and it doesn’t matter because it’s the truth.
After today, will it all go back to the way it was?
I shudder to think so, yet this seems to be a pattern with Maximus. He is uncaring and cruel, but those interactions are dotted with tenderness that steals my breath. As much as I enjoy those gentle moments, I’d be a fool not to be wary of him and what he might do in the future.
His reasonings concerning love and vulnerability made perfect sense to me. I never want to give someone that kind of power over me. My emotions and thoughts are my own, and they are the secret things I keep hidden. Just like the locks on the bridge, I secured my heart and locked it away for safekeeping. I don’t love Maximus. Yet.
But I could.
And I want to.
I’m not sure what’s worse: to love him or towantto love him. In the end, it doesn’t matter. He said I won’t get that emotion from him, and I believe it. Although, I doubt I can remain unaffected like him. With each tender gesture or soft touch, my walls of resistance fracture. If he hadn’t gotten angry at me on the bridge, I’d be halfway in love with him. Or maybe I already am?
Like he said, what good would love do?
A shuffling sound snags my attention, and I tilt my head to make sure there’s nothing amiss. The footfalls are near silent, but not completely. I grip the fork lying on my plate and press it to the length of my thigh in order to conceal it, then turn my head.
The scream in my throat never has a chance to form.
The stranger looms over me, and his features are hard to make out with the light from the room streaming behind him. “Mrs. Silvestri.”
I grip the plate as though I’m going to remove it from my lap, only to hurl it at him. He dodges the porcelain missile, and I use the distraction to get on my feet. He’s faster than a cobra, his hand streaking across the space between us and grabbing my outstretched arm, clamping his meaty fingers around my wrist. I aim low, knowing my tiny weapon doesn’t stand a chance against the thick material of his suit. The fork prongs sink into his hand covering mine, and he bellows in rage right before he slaps me with his free hand.
Instinct has me cradling my face, covering the pulsing flesh of my cheek. But in doing that, I’ve left myself open for attack. The man is on me in an instant, and my cry for help is bested by darkness pulling me under.
* * *
The swarmingof bees brings me back into a semiconscious state.
I wince at the pounding of my head, and the minute action only exacerbates the pain. Immediately I relax my face and seek out the oblivion of sleep. Or unconsciousness.
Whatever it takes to end my suffering.
But it doesn’t come. The buzzing noise that brought me back to a state of lucidity slowly morphs into voices.Malevoices I don’t recognize. My heart kick-starts in my chest, and I clench my jaw to stop myself from making any sudden movements. And also to avoid any unnecessary pain.
My brain is delayed in computing the words floating in the atmosphere around me, but eventually I understand what the people are saying.
And it’s all in French.
I guess I’ll see how well my self-taught language skills are.
“She’s been unconscious for a long time.” This voice is nasally and thin. “The boss said not to kill her, but what if she doesn’t wake up?”
A gruff laugh, then a voice that’s deep and similar to the male who attacked me. “She will. She’s breathing, and that’s all that matters.”
“I don’t know, what—”
“Just play your fucking hand and either ante or shut the fuck up.”
The shuffling of cards is discernible and denotes their continued gameplay. While they are busy, I risk lifting my lids less than an inch. Without raising my head, I’m not able to take in much, but the zip ties binding my arms behind me and the ones on my ankles are definitely noticeable. They bite into my skin, and I guess it to be from being hunched over for however long it’s been since I was taken from the hotel. There’s no sunlight to detect because I’m in an office of sorts, so that’s a moot point.
“You’re such a fucking pussy. Call it already.”
