“How so?” she asks.
I study her. “Well, for example, if I ever let you go, I’m not really sure what you’d tell your father.”
“Of course I wouldn’t tell him you took me.”
I nod slowly. “You say that now. And maybe you actually believe it. But things will change when you’re back home. Surrounded by the familiar. By family. You’ll fall into your old habits, your old ways of thinking. Your father will pressure you, and one day you’ll crack and tell him everything. And when you do, that means war between our families.”
We don’t speak for a while. We listen to the gulls overhead, the waves lapping against shore, our feet padding on the wet sand. We try to pretend we’re not captor and captive. At least, I try to.
It doesn’t work.
I look at Angela. “By the way, Rosa… she wasn’t involved in the kidnapping. She wanted no part of it.”
“That’s understandable,” Angela says. “She’s a reasonable person. A nice person. Unlike you.”
I ignore the barb. “I want you to remember that, if someday you ever find yourself spilling your guts to your father.”
“The only way I’d ever do that is if I escaped,” Angela says.
“Or I let you go,” I counter.
“Are you really considering that option?” she asks me hopefully.
“I’m considering every option,” I reply. “That’s only one of them. Though I admit, there’s a pretty low chance I’ll ever do it. But it’s still an option.”
Disappointed, she lowers her gaze.
We walk on. As we near the mansion, she blurts out: “Massimo.”
“What?” I ask her.
“Nothing,” she says shyly. “I just wanted to hear your name on my lips. I like it.”
I smile sadly. “I like hearing it on your lips too. I just wish… things were different.”
“So do I,” she agrees wistfully.
16
Angela
What an emotional rollercoaster I put myself through. I can’t believe I thought his sister was a girlfriend. Then again, who can blame me? I couldn’t see her through the door, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have recognized her. I felt absolutely mortified when Rosa identified herself. Oh well. It’s not like it really changes anything between Massimo and myself. He’s still my kidnapper when all is said and done.
When we reach the back of the mansion Massimo notices the rope I made out of bedspreads.
“Nicely done,” he says.
“Thanks,” I tell him drily. “It’s nice to have my handiwork admired.”
He folds his arms over his big chest. “I wasn’t admiring it. I’m going to have to move you to a different room, it seems.”
I think for a moment that he intends to move tohisroom, and for some reason that excites me. Images of his lovely cock flash through my mind, along with all the things I plan to do to it.
But I’m disappointed when he leads me to a different room. It has a self-contained bathroom like the other bedroom, and while the window on this one slides open just fine, it’s covered in bars.
“That’s handy,” I tell him. “You’ve prepared for every eventuality.”
“This house used to be a prison,” he tells me.
