That was what haunted him most. Peter didn’t just want Sophia—not the way that Luca did. Peter wanted to own her and to punish her for leaving. He wanted to hurt her for choosing Luca and for having a life that didn’t include him, and Luca would not let that stand.
On the seventh day, the call finally came. It wasn’t from the police. The number was one that he didn’t recognize, and he felt that damn hope again that always let him down. Luca answered on the first ring. “Hello,” he answered. There was no answer, but Luca had a sick feeling that he knew who was on the other end of the call. “Peter.”
Silence crackled on the line, then a low laugh. “You always were smart, Luca.”
“If you’ve hurt her—” Luca began.
“She’s alive,” Peter interrupted. “For now.”
Luca closed his eyes, relief and rage slamming into him at once. “Where is she?”
“Well, my telling you depends on whether you’re ready to listen,” Peter said smoothly.
“I’m listening,” Luca growled. The last thing that he wanted to do was listen to the crazy asshole on the other end of the call, but Peter wasn’t giving him much of a choice. He seemed to want control over the situation, and if that meant that Luca had to give up some of his, he would.
“You always liked playing hero,” Peter continued. “Let’s see how far you’re willing to go this time.”
The line went dead, and Luca was left staring at the phone, his grip tight enough to crack the screen. He needed to focus on the fact that Sophia was alive because that was all that mattered.
He called Tony to fill him in about Peter’s call and asked him to call the cops. Luca needed to get out of the house and keep looking for Sophia, even if he had zero clue as to where to start. He grabbed his keys, his jacket, and the gun he’d sworn he’d never need. The fear was still there—sharp and relentless in his gut, but it was buried beneath something stronger now, resolve.
Peter had made one fatal mistake. He had given Luca hope that he’d be able to find Sophia and bring her back home with him. Peter had no idea how dangerous hope could be, but hewas about to find out because Luca was coming for her, and he wouldn’t stop until he found her.
SOPHIA
It felt as though Peter had kept her locked up for years, not just days. At least, she thought that it had only been days. Sophia had lost track of time, but at last count, she was up to five days. They were the worst five days of her entire life, too.
He had kept her tied up on a bed in a dark, musky room that reminded her of gym class. She tried to look around the room every time the sunlight started to creep in, but the room didn’t get much direct sunlight, and Peter made sure not to turn on any lights. Even when he gave her bathroom breaks, he was careful to remove the light bulbs from the fixtures as though keeping her in the dark would keep her from finding out her location. So far, he was right, but she had a feeling that she knew this place—she just had to figure out how.
When she woke up earlier, she heard Peter’s faint voice in the distance. It sounded as though he was having a conversation with someone, but she couldn’t hear who it was. Sophia could only assume that he was talking on his cell phone, and she wondered who he had called. Maybe it was Luca. Maybe he wasmaking arrangements to return her, but that would be too easy. Peter had a plan—he just hadn’t filled her in as to what it was yet.
He hadn’t made any demands, even though she had made plenty. Sophia had demanded that he return her to Luca, but he just laughed at her. When she insisted that he let her go, he reminded her who was in charge with a backhand to her right cheek. And when she tried to remind him that they were once friends, he informed her that that was never the case.
He pushed the door open with the tray he carried in his hands and set it down on the table next to the bed. It was his routine. He’d show up at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, bringing her a tray of food and telling her that if she’d just behaved herself, he’d let her up. That was a lie. She knew that Peter wasn’t going to ever grant her freedom. That would mean that she’d run, and he was smart enough to know that much about her.
“Was someone here earlier?” she asked, not bothering with small talk.
“No, why would you think that?” he asked.
“Um, because I overheard you talking this morning, and it sounded as though you were having a conversation with someone,” she admitted. “Was it Luca?” she tried to keep the hope from her voice, but failed miserably.
“Why would I call your ex?” he spat.
“He’s not my ex,” she insisted.
“Then tell me why he’s not here, Sophia?” Peter asked. “Why are you two not together right now?”
“We’re not together right now because you kidnapped me and are holding me here against my will. But we’re still togetherbecause you can’t break the bond that we have,” she insisted. He looked to be getting madder by the second, and she wasn’t sure if she should stop or keep going.
Before she could say another word, Peter slapped her across the face, clipping her lip with his ring. “Did you really think that I’d allow him to keep you?” Pete shouted at her. The blood trickled down her chin from her top lip. His ring had broken the skin, and she knew that she probably would need a stitch or two, not that it mattered right now. No, now she was going to have to figure out how to get away from Peter, and then she’d worry about the damage he had done to her.
“He wasn’t keeping me, Pete,” she shouted. Once Luca moved her into his house, she became his. He had kept her safe, and now he was keeping her heart safe. Sophia would just have to find a way to keep going until Luca could find her. The question was—would he be able to find her, or would she have to find a way out of this mess by herself?
Pete’s hand fisted in the front of her shirt and yanked her closer, his face twisted with something ugly and possessive. “Don’t lie to me,” he snarled. “I saw you with him. I saw the two of you in his truck and in his house. I followed you around town—to the bar the first night you were together, and then to the bakery where you hung out with your new friend. I even watched the two of you at the gym. I bet you didn’t know that, did you, Sophia?” Peter sounded smug and even proud of his stalking skills.
“But you’re mine, and the sooner you and that ex-boyfriend of yours figure that fact out, the sooner we can all get on with our lives. You’re mine, Sophia,” he spat. Sophia forced herself to stay still, even though her instincts were screaming at her to fight, to run, to do something. She tasted blood as she ran her tongueover her top lip, and swallowed it back, lifting her chin despite the pain.
“You don’t own me,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “You never did.” That earned her another shove, her back slamming into the wall hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. White sparks danced in her vision, but she refused to cry. She wouldn’t give him that.
