I’m a bit taken aback by the question, given what came before it—I was starting to forget she’s my captive.
I recover quickly enough: “It’s not my usual work.”
“And what’s your usual work, then?” she presses.
“I fix horse races,” I tell her. “My brothers have their own specialties… managing clubs, protection rackets, and so forth. But horse racing is mine. I want to build a horse race track on Ustica someday. We’ve picked up all the land we need, and now I just need the cash for construction, and the bribes for the politicians.”
I can’t help thinking of my brother Matteo then. Out of all of us, he was the one who wanted to build that track the most. I never got over his death. Never will. I want to construct this track partially out of guilt, to pay back Matteo for not being able to save him.
I’m on the verge of bringing up his death to Angela, something I haven’t shared with anyone outside of my family. But then she speaks.
“So that’s why you kidnapped me,” she says, sounding spiteful. “So you could raise the cash to build your own track. I suppose I should feel honored to help you out.”
I stare at her a moment. I’m angry and disappointed by her words. I stand, intending to punish her by withdrawing my presence. “I should go.”
It’s the worst possible punishment I can think of, and it has the desired effect. Her face drops, and she reaches out, grabbing my hand.
“No,” she says. “Please. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so hard on you. Sit down. Please Massimo. Don’t leave yet.”
I look at her, and confirm that the candor in her eyes matches the sincerity in her voice. I glance at her hand, relishing in her touch, wanting to draw her fingers to my face and taste them one by one, but she releases me.
I sit once more, pleased that she begged me to stay.
Maybe I’ll punish her in a more appropriate manner shortly. If she behaves…
18
Angela
Igaze into Massimo’s eyes. I tell myself that I want my kidnapper to stay because I’m lonely, but the truth is I’m starting to see him as more than my kidnapper. Even though he hasn’t revealed what plans he has in store for me. I should interpret his evasiveness as a sign he intends to see this through all the way to the end, and that one day I’ll wake up in the bed of the winning bidder, but a part of me can’t believe Massimo would do that to me. Especially not now, with the way he’s looking at me.
His predatory eyes seem distant somehow, like an eagle watching its prey from afar. I should be afraid of that look, but instead it makes me curious, aroused. I know he wants to fuck me, but he’s holding back. Is it guilt over what he intends to do with me when this is finally over, or something else?
All I know is I want to keep him here with me as long as I can. All night preferably. So I have to continue talking.
“Tell me about your brothers,” I blurt out.
His shoulders lift defensively as he replies: “What do you want to know?”
“Oh, I don’t know, what you do together when you’re not working, what they’re like, normal stuff,” I tell him. “It sounds like you’re close. I’m close to my brothers, too.”
He nods. “We do normal stuff, as you say. Chill at the club. Have parties. Watch movies. Read books. Go on benders. We’re into rock climbing, sailing, and working out. Stefano is the cold, calculating one. Luciano, the artist. Enrico, the pimp. And Roberto, the lover.”
I gaze into his beautiful blue eyes. “Meanwhile, you’re a combination of all of them.”
He presses his lips together and shrugs. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m… darker… than all of them, I think. Because of what happened to me.”
I’m staring at those gorgeous lips of his, but the seriousness of his words brings me back to the present, and I look at his eyes. They seem sad.
“I’m sorry for what my father did,” I tell him. “Sincerely.”
“It’s not your fault obviously.” He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have to pay for his sins. It’s just how the world we live in works.”
I don’t like being reminded of that reality, and I turn away, gazing into the bubble bath. I was trying to figure out how to invite him to join me in the tub, but now I’m not sure I want him to. The mood has definitely just taken a nosedive.
I don’t want him to go, though, so I decide to try to brighten it again: “What kind of books do you read?”
He looks at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He knows what I’m up to. “All kinds. Action and Adventure. Thrillers. Even Romances. You can learn a lot about the opposite sex from them. There’s a lot of downtime in this sort of business. You often find yourself waiting for a client to show, or a delivery to arrive. Rather than kill time on social media like most people, I’ll spend it productively by reading something. Expanding my mind and escaping from my reality, if only for a short moment.”
