This man’s more than I ever imagined. More than a killer. More than a criminal.
I lean forward, up on one elbow, and kiss him hard. He keeps thrusting, fucking me deeper and deeper, our moaning twisting together, and I feel the glow building. I can’t deny it much longer.
“Come with me,” he whispers, pleading, the edge of insanity in his voice spurring me to greater heights. “I want it, baby. I need to hear you finish all over my thick cock.”
It pulls my trigger and finally breaks me. I orgasm at the same time he growls and thrusts, filling me to the brim. We finish together, breaking into pieces and rebuilding in each other’s arms.
My poor dress is tossed onto the floor, ruined and worthless. But there are probably ten more where that one came from, and Mass doesn’t seem to care. He climbs into bed and pulls me against him. His low voice rumbles as he mutters something about loving the way I feel.
I smile and cuddle up against him.
We stay like that for a while. I probably drift off at some point. When I come back, I realize it’s late and Mass is deeply asleep. We’re naked, on top of the sheets, and I didn’t do any of my evening routine.
I don’t want to move. I’m so comfortable in my husband’s arms. I don’t know when that happened, but I like it here in his bed. I know Rosie’s safe in her nursery and I’m safe here with Mass.It’s enough to make me forget everything else, at least for a little while.
But something’s ringing nearby.
It’s annoying. I want it to shut up. Mass stirs, grumbling. The ringing won’t stop. I’m trying to ignore it.
Until I realize.
The sound is coming from the living room.
My heart skips a beat and suddenly I’m wide awake. Adrenaline slams into my system. I roll away from Mass as quickly and gently as I can and slip out of bed. He doesn’t wake up when I sneak out of the room and hurry back downstairs.
I find the phone shoved into the couch where I last left it.
“Hello?!” I answer in a rushed whisper, mostly just to stop the thing from ringing. I’d forgotten all about it again, and a part of me resents the phone for forcing itself back into my life.
A man’s voice comes from the other end, almost like it’s at a great distance. “There’s so much you don’t know. There are things he’ll never tell you. There are secrets?—”
“Who is this?” I ask, trying to cut in, but the man keeps talking.
“—and layers and so many lies. You don’t know Massimo Cardone and you never will. There is a man in the west wing, Allie. You have to find him. Speak to him. He’s the key to everything. Find him, Allie.”
“Who is this? What do you want from me?”
“The man in the west wing. He’s a prisoner. He’s been tortured and beaten to within an inch of his life. What they’re doing tohim, it’s a nightmare. You have to help him, Allie. You can’t trust Massimo. You can’t trust any of them.”
“Stop it. I don’t understand. Slow down!”
“There’s no time. Find the man in the west wing. Help him get out of here. The code is 842891. I repeat, the code is 842891. The code will now repeat until the line goes dead. 842891. 842891. 842891…”
“Please listen to me. I don’t understand what you want! Who is this?!” But the person on the other end keeps saying those numbers, over and over again. I listen for a little longer, memorizing the code, and try to ask more questions, but nothing changes.
I end the call and sit alone in the quiet of the living room.
I don’t want this.
Upstairs, in that dress, with Mass’s hands on my body, I could picture myself living here with him and Rosie. I could imagine being his queen.
I don’t want hidden rooms. I don’t want tortured prisoners.
But I heard the singing coming through that door. It sounded so familiar and it’s still bothering me now.
If there really is someone inside that room… if he really is being tortured by Mass…
I have to find out the truth.
