Enraged at myself, I throw the blankets off me and head to the closet. I rip it open and tear out the clothes until I find something that fits me well. Something provocative and daring. I grab the white jumpsuit and red pumps that lie in the back. A perfect outfit for a perfect fucking day.
I get dressed and look at myself in the mirror. This white jumpsuit looks so good on me. I pair it with a bright red lipstick, which is on the boudoir next to the mirror, along with a bunch of other makeup that the maid probably stocked for guests. It’s not what I usually wear, but I’ll make it work. I smack my lips together to rub it in and smile.
I’m so fucking ready for this.
If I can’t escape those memories, then I’ll make sure he won’t ever forget about me either.
I grab the old phone standing on the table in the corner of the room and dial the first number on the card next to it. It almost feels like I’m calling the hotel reception … except these people work for the same Mafia don who’s keeping me a prisoner in his house.
“Hello ma’am, how are you today? Did you sleep well?”
It’s Leticia, one of Matteo’s maids, who sounds far too happy for someone who works for a man like him.
“I feel great. Slept like a baby, so that helped,” I lie.
I barely got a few hours’ worth of sleep, but I’ll make it work.
“I was wondering if I could get a tour of the kitchen, please?” I ask.
“A tour?” She sounds confused about why I’d ask, but I have my reasons.
“Yeah, I wanted to see if I could bake something for Matteo. As a thank you for saving me from Lucio. I mean, he’s been so kind to me.”
I nearly vomit into my own mouth, but I keep it together for the sake of it.
“Um, sure, let me ask the guard, hold on,” Leticia says.
I tap my foot as she walks away for a few seconds, probably to discuss how they can do this logistically without me throwing a ruckus around the house. They still assume I’ll try to escape, and they’re right, but not in the way they think.
“Okay, a guard will accompany us, but it’s fine. I’ll be right up, and then I’ll take you back downstairs with me.”
“Thanks,” I say and hang up the phone.
A few minutes later, someone knocks on my door. “Ma’am, it’s Leticia.” She walks in and smiles at me. “You look gorgeous, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
I want him too bamboozled to even think.
“Definitely. Do you have an idea of what you wanted to bake for him?”
“Oh, I was thinking of a cake or a pie,” I reply.
“He sure does love cake,” she says.
I grin. “Great. Where do we go?”
She takes me with her, and I walk out of my room with my head held high as we walk down the hallway and toward the stairs, where the guard is already watching us. Leticia keeps a keen eye on me so I don’t attempt to run away, but I don’t mind.
Let her look, I’m not scared. Where am I supposed to go? There are guards everywhere.
The only thing I’m interested in is getting to that kitchen, so I follow her down the stairs while that guard breathes down our necks, and we head into the main hallway, where we make a right turn. Beyond the main kitchen, down a few steps, is a cellar with a ton of food items on display in the cabinets.
“I thought I’d bring you to the supplies first,” she says. “I don’t know what you had in mind.”
I look around the storage room, trying to find what I’m going to use. “You’ve got flour, sugar, butter ...”
“Oh yes, of course.”
