I still couldn't place him, but my instinct was churning, working overtime. He was very familiar.
I heard a music coming from somewhere, the lilting strings of a Spanish guitar. There was someone in the house. My throat was parched and all I could manage was a few words in a whispered voice. "Help. Me. Please." Instantly, I hissed, rubbing my eyes. I was being ridiculous.
I could swear I heard footsteps and bristled, terror racing through me. I'd been taught the dangers of so many things in life but being captured had a special place in hell.
I struggled to get out of bed, only managing to fall halfway face first against the bucket. At least my arm had caught the brunt, sending the pail flinging across the wooden floor. Another sick realization: my leg had been shackled to the pedestal of the bed. "Fuck."
The door slowly swung open, the same asshole walking inside. He was even whistling, as if this was simply another day at the office, a necessity for his 'business.' Pushing up from the floor, I glared at him, memorizing every detail. When he was hunted down like the dog he was, I wanted to remember every aspect of the atrocious event.
"You're awake," he said quietly, turning his gaze in the direction of the bucket. "You'll need aspirin for that headache. Water for the hangover." He fisted my hair, yanking me into a sitting position.
"As if you give a shit what I need!" I slapped at his hands, doing everything I could not to show fear.
He chuckled, the sound far too sultry for an obviously dangerous man. "I don't think we need the insults. Do you?"
The audacity of this monster was incredible.
I shifted into a sitting position, cradling my head. "What in God's name did you do? Why? Money? Power over my father? What?"
"All your questions will be answered in time." He moved toward the end of the bed.
"Right. Maybe you don't truly understand who I am or the power of my family. Borgata." I accentuated the last word, spitting it out in hatred.
He took a deep breath, studying me intently. "Francesca Alessandro, daughter of Antonio Alessandro, winemaker extraordinaire. On paper and for the idiot authorities. The truth is, your family carries significant weight in the Italian mafia, strategically positioned with the highly feared Massimo Borgata. Your father is... very dangerous."
He was enjoying himself.
I was shaking.
"You went to Yale, studying business administration and although your grades were certainly not top notch, you secured a very impressive job with a financial firm out of Chicago. Your recent move to Los Angeles was at the request of your father. Would you like me to continue?"
"Oh, what the hell. I'm impressed with your reading abilities, whoever the hell you are."
He hesitated only briefly before continuing, a scathing lilt in his voice
"You shy away from your family's business, preferring to live your life as a normal young woman forging her own path even though you were born into the lap of luxury. In the world of commodities, and yes, wealthy and beautiful women are considered nothing more, you are highly valuable. Some would say priceless. The Italian princess. The wedding you were coerced into would lock down the family's position within the Massimo organization, dragging the Saltoris with it. I can only imagine the fame and glory. Not to mention the hold over several countries."
He seemed pleased with himself, smiling before continuing. "You're right. Those are just facts that anyone with a sharp eye and a knowledge of the mafia could find out easily enough. Let's get to the good stuff. Shall we? You enjoy red wine, an occasional horse ride. Your favorite food is pizza. There's a little tavern near your apartment where you go at least three times a week. They even developed a very special Sicilian pizza for you, one like your mother used to make. I will say, your new job is totally beneath you, but I suspect you took the assistant job simply to have something to do. If I know Vincenzo, and sadly, I know him far too well, he wouldn't have allowed you to work. He's very old-fashioned in a sick and twisted kind of way."
I glared at him, my entire body quivering. He knew details about my life that no one knew. He'd been following me or had bought the information.
"How am I doing so far?" he asked, his pearly whites flashing.
"You're an asshole."
"And the names keep coming. As I already admitted, I am many things, Francesca, and you will learn various aspects of my life, but all in good time and if you learn to obey."
"You're insane." I couldn't stop quivering.
He'd changed, wearing a tight tee shirt and a pair of jeans, the attire highlighting his rugged good looks and sculpted body. Suddenly, his eyes hardened as if no longer amused. He took one look at the bucket and sighed. "As I said, you're going to learn many things while under my roof, Francesca, including obedience."
"Fuck you!"
He scoffed, shaking his head. "And there will be no cursing. You're supposed to be a lady. The crudeness of your remarks would horrify your father. He is a very proud man and certainly sophisticated. I suggest you learn to act more like him."
I was shocked, floored at his insinuations, as if I gave a damn about anything he had to say.
"So, I think we should discuss a few very important rules." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, appearing very comfortable in his surroundings. "You are indeed my prisoner. You will do nothing without my approval. You will be supplied with clothing, food, even the wine you seem to adore, but they will be doled out as you learn to obey. When you're disobedient, the punishment will be swift and harsh. I am a reasonable man, Francesca, but I will not be crossed in any manner."
"How dare you treat me this way!" I exclaimed, ready to claw out his eyes. He reminded me of an asshole from years before, a horrible man who thought he could use and discipline me. This asshole had another thing coming.
"How dare I?" He laughed and shook his head. "You should know I'm your only means of survival. I suggest you learn to submit."
"Fuck you!" I snapped, trying desperately to push him away.
"And that punishment will begin today. Make no mistake, I am a dangerous man." Fisting my hair, he rolled me over and I continued to struggle.
"Over my dead body."
He growled as he yanked me closer to the heat of his body.
There was a litany of nasty words on the tip of my tongue, but I knew this was simply the first in a series of challenges. "What else? Are you ever going to let me go?"
"Your release is entirely dependent on your behavior, and of course, various plateaus of our business relationship."
"You are absolutely fucking mad if you think I'm going to do any business with you. I don't even know who you are."
He tilted his head, leaning over until his face was only inches away from mine. "You made a deal in exchange for me granting your wish to get out of your sullied marriage. I expect you to keep up the end of your bargain."