“Aww, poor baby,” Andy says. “Are you pining?”
“Fuck you!” I snap. Andy just laughs and ends the call. I don’t really mean it. Although a little part of me does. Not because I don’t love Andy with all my heart. But because this whole damn situation is messing with my head. I’m missing the bastard. I shouldn’t. But knowing he won’t be back tonight leaves me feeling vaguely hollow.
“Stockholm Syndrome,” I mutter. I’m just bonding with my captor in some freaky sort of self-preservation mechanism. A couple of days away from him is exactly what I need.
I hope he stays gone.
Chapter 7
Nikki Love
Three days later, I’m sitting in a huge leather chair behind a sprawling oak desk. It’s after 10 p.m., and Dani has been in bed for hours.
I can’t sleep. I’ve barely rested since Dario left. Every night I’ve lain waiting, wide awake. In case it’s the night he returns. But he hasn’t.
“Have you spoken to Papá?” I’d asked Dani at dinner yesterday. He’d nodded cheerfully, chewing a mouthful of chicken nugget. “Did he tell you when he’d be back?”
“I speak to him every day,” he’d answered once he’d swallowed. “He’ll be home soon.”
“Soon?” I’d pressed. Kids can be so infuriating.
“Yip,” he’d replied. “Soon soon! Do you want to watch a movie tonight?” There’d been no sense in pushing further. It seemed that Dario was as vague with his child as he was with the rest of us. Dani and I had ended up watching the dog movie he’d been so keen on when we’d all sat in the home cinema just a few days before. The last night I’d been with his dad.
The dog film had been a terrible idea. I’d cried into my popcorn like a baby. Once I’d tucked him in bed, I’d wandered around the house aimlessly. After bedtime, I have the place to myself. I have no idea where the staff go, but the rooms become quiet and eerie. It’s left me free to explore unhindered. I’m pretty sure I’ve wandered into spaces that might not be intended for me.
Like the office that I’m in now. It’s obviously Dario’s. The chair still holds his scent. Rich and clean and woody. I lean back in it and breathe in deeply. I’m still fighting off that curious feeling of missing him. I don’t miss him, though. Not in the conventional sense – how can you feel the absence of someone you barely know?
It’s my traitorous body. Already it needs what Dario gives me. He’s like heroin…I’m addicted after my first hit. I wake up several times each night with an aching between my legs, and masturbation has done nothing to ease it. The orgasm I’d managed to drag from myself last night had been a pale imitation of the mind-shattering pleasure he gives me.
I lean forward in the chair and run an eye over the framed photos on the desk. There are several of Dani and Dario. None showing a woman. I still don’t have the answer to that question, and there’s nobody I feel I can ask. But it gnaws at me.
Other photos show Dario with what appear to be family members. I recognize Matteo. There’s also Raoul – the man he’d been at the hospital with, who I’ve figured out is his brother. There’s a resemblance there, although not a distinct one. Other men too. Dark, dangerous looking. Perhaps fathers or uncles. Whoever they are, I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of them.
Dario Caraldi remains a mystery to me, but I’m growing increasingly certain there are secrets in his life that I really shouldn’t know about.
I stand and move about the room, browsing through the titles of the books on the shelves that line one wall. It’s hard to get a measure of him from looking at the things he reads. There are business books alongside fiction. An entire section on martial arts tells me he’s obviously a fan. Childcare takes up a section too. It’s surprising to me, though I guess it makes sense. However fucked up the man is, he’s raising an incredibly well-adjusted boy.
I amble to a wall that’s hung with more photos, along with various graduation certificates. I stare up at images of Dario as a younger man, stern and serious. Still gorgeous. Does he ever crack a smile when he’s not with Dani?
“What are you doing in here?” a voice says from behind me.
I shriek and spin around. Dario’s standing in the doorway. Dark hair tousled; his navy shirt is unbuttoned at the throat. He looks tired.
“I…I…” I stutter. I have no answer for him. I’m clearly snooping. I press back against the wall as he stalks up to me. It occurs to me that I’m not only snooping, but I’m also wandering around in yet another sleepshirt. It’s soft and clinging, with flowers embroidered along the neckline. Small buttons run down its front to where it stops at my knees. My sleeping apparel leans toward “maiden aunt” in style, though it’s comfortable. I shouldn’t be wearing it.
Fuck!
He’s running his eyes over me, moving closer. I shrink back.
“I’m so sorry!” I blurt. Without thinking, I reach for the hem of my pajamas and pull the shirt up over my head.
What are you doing, Nikki?a part of me demands as I stand naked in front of him. I don’t have an answer. I’m panicking. All I know is that I’m not supposed to wear sleep clothes. Maybe this will be one less thing to piss him off.
He’s standing inches away now. His eyes drop to my breasts, then lower, then back to my face.
“Do you think that’s good enough?” he asks. His breath is warm on my face, fragrant with coffee and mint. I can smell tobacco on him, though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t smoke. “Do you?” he presses.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I shake my head. He reaches up to heft my breast, and I fight down a moan.
