“No,” I bark out quickly. “No, I guess I’m trying to understand you the way you’re trying to understand me. I don’t know your motives.”
He tips my chin up with his knuckle. “My motive is very clear. I am to hold you hostage until your father agrees to stop interfering with Constantine and Carina’s business affairs.”
I swallow. “And if he doesn’t?”
“If he doesn’t,” he says as his thumb comes to softly graze my lower lip. I inhale sharply. “Then you’re mine to keep.”
CHAPTER 11
Rico
Icheck the camera for the fifth time today.
A compulsion.
One that I find extremely frustrating and confusing rather than comforting.
Compulsions. Hyper fixations. I’ve had them for as long as I can remember.
My mother was the only one who understood them. Now, I know it’s because she had them, too. But my father. . . He didn’t understand and he didn’t want to learn to. Instead he tried to mold me into what he deemed as the normal child. Which only caused my meltdowns of self isolation to progress. There were days where I would not speak. Others where I simply wanted to be removed from the world and all of its noise and would rather rot in my bed.
Mother had always wanted to protect me from father but she was never strong enough to stand against him. More often than not he’d lock her away in a room. I can still hear her desperate fists pounding against the door begging to be free.
I try to ignore the parallels. But right now they’re fucking screaming at me as I watch the beauty behind the lens.
Someone as wild as her isn’t meant to be caged.
La mia gazzella’s self preservation has finally kicked in. She’s begun to eat small morsels of food.
Good girl.
Every so often she’ll give me her middle finger. My lips tip up unconsciously each time.
“Did I just see you smirk?” Pietro jests but there’s bafflement hidden in the undertones.
My lips return to their natural form, a firm line. I side eye him. “Perhaps you’re seeing things.”
He boasts, “Twenty, twenty vision baby.”
“Maybe I was attempting a joke,” I murmur. Maybe this will deter him from my hyper fixation on the captive.
He snorts. “Good one. But seriously—” Fuck. He’s a damn dog with a bone and won’t let go. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“I’m no different,” I tell him.
“You are,” he disagrees as his eyes return to the monitor. “And it has everything to do with her.”
I remain silent. His mind can conjure up whatever he desires without me confirming or denying.
My focus returns to her. The surprise who has consumed my every waking thought and followed me in my sleep. I dreamt of her. And I never dream. But I did of her.
Instead of her signature glare and pursed lips she gifted me with a smile. And I understood what people meant when they said a smile could be more blinding than the sun. Because when she smiled in my dream? Christ, it was like I was staring at the sun. I could even feel its warmth.
How is that even possible?
If I didn’t know any better I would believe witchcraft to be true. Because there is no other reason for me to be having such thoughts.
“You need to be careful, Rico,” Pietro begins with trepidation. “If Constantine is to even?—”
