I shake my head, reminding myself he’s my kidnapper. I tell myself another reason my body is betraying me is because I’m so emotionally worn out. It’s true though: today was the most stressful day of my life. The ups and downs have been crazy.
My mind lingers on Maurizio’s fall, and the deaths of my other bodyguards, Donato and Federico. Massimo did that. Or his partner. Or they both did. It doesn’t matter, Massimo was still responsible. He’s a killer. A mobster. And not a nice guy. Definitely not someone I want fingering my pussy, let alone kissing me.
I was so afraid in the car when my bodyguards… myfriends… died. I felt so helpless. I haven’t felt that way in a while. Not since my mother died.
I can still see the pistol smoking after it fired, and my mom’s lifeless body hitting the floor. I should have done something,anything, but I sat there, petrified, like the coward I am. I swore if a similar situation ever happened again, I’d do something. I wouldn’t stand back and watch those I cared about die.
But I froze when the gunshots came. I couldn’t do anything to stop Massimo from killing Maurizio and the others.
Yes, I definitely shouldn’t have returned his kiss. My loathing for him increases in that moment. I just wish I could remember all of this when he’s in my presence. For some reason, when he’s in the same room with me, I seem to forget everything else. His presence overwhelms me, overrides everything else, and it’s just me and him in a microcosm of the world. Who we are forgotten, our two bodies yearning for one another, for a time when we were almost boyfriend and girlfriend.
I still don’t know what happened to him that day eight years ago. I don’t know why he ran away and left me alone. Just like he did moments ago. Maybe he fears intimacy? I don’t know. I sometimes wonder, if he had been around could he have helped stop my mother’s death, where I was powerless? Who knows how different our lives could have been? Maybe he wouldn’t have fallen into the life of crime he leads.
I force the thoughts away, scolding myself. I should’ve never pulled off that mask. Then I wouldn’t be having these emotions. He would have remained some faceless enemy. Someone not to negotiate with, nor sleep with. It was my stupid plan to distract him and hold a knife to his throat that started all this in the first place.
I wonder if he’s still watching me on his hidden camera. I’m certain he’s placed one here. There’s probably a microphone, too.
“Massimo?” I say. “Are you listening? I hate your guts.”
I wait, half-expecting some gloating retort to come over a hidden speaker.
But no one answers.
“Do you hear me, Massimo? I hate you. I’d rather kiss a worm.”
That can be arranged,I hear him taunt in my head. It would be just like this new him to say something so twisted. He’d probably make me do it, too.
I tug violently at my binds but succeed only in digging the ties into my skin. The pain helps me get over my former arousal, and soon I’ve forgotten I felt anything for Massimo at all. He’s solely my kidnapper once more, my enemy, a man I will do anything to get away from. I’ll find a way out of here, I will, and I’ll warn my father. He’ll come back here with guns blazing and mow down Massimo and whoever else did this.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the chair, falling into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
In my dream,I’m with my father, and my brothers Leonardo and Michelangelo. The latter two are packing assault rifles, while my father is wearing a harness stuffed to the brim with grenades, almost like a suicide bomber.
We’re raiding a vineyard, mowing down the men who rush us. They’re all wearing balaclavas.
Massimo appears at the entrance to the house. He’s not wearing a shirt, and his gorgeous chest is covered in tattoos. He raises his hands in surrender.
My brothers keep their assault rifles trained on him as my father steps forward. Papa disconnects several grenades from his chest and prepares to chuck them at Massimo.
I don’t know why, but I rush toward Massimo and shield him with my body.
“No!” I shout. “Papa don’t! There’s still good in him!”
Papa ignores me and throws the grenades anyway. Massimo shoves me to the ground beneath him and shields me with his body as the grenades detonate.
“I told you there was still good,” I say, weeping. “I told you.”
I realize I’m awake. I also realize there’s someone sitting in the room with me. The light is on, though dim. I see Massimo sitting at the foot of the bed. He’s holding what appear to be big, plastic rings in his hands.
I shift and it finally registers that my arms are free—he’s cut the cable ties. I raise my hands and rub the wire-like impressions left behind on my wrists. Afterward, I quickly wipe the tears from my cheeks.
“Who were you dreaming about?” he asks softly.
“No one,” I say quickly.
He nods, biting his lower lip. “I came to cut these off.” He indicates the severed cable ties he holds—the “plastic rings” I noticed earlier.
