Big Bad Wolf: A Bad Boy Next Door Second Chance Romance

by Frankie Love

  Then, the door to the bedroom slams open, flying into the door. I gasp, my hand flying up to my chest. My eyes search for the source of the noise when a huge figure steps in the door frame.

  He's wearing black boots, dark jeans and a simple shirt. He's not wearing a mask to hide his face this time, but I still recognize him. His face is devastatingly handsome, his shoulders impossibly broad. A long scar runs the length of his face, spoiling his features. He smells like poison, he looks like murder.

  "There you are, little bird," he chuckles darkly. I'd recognize the voice in an instant. He's the man from the cell, the one who taunted me the most. The one I was most afraid of.

  I back up against the wall, my back hitting a hard surface. The man advances on me and I whimper in fear.

  "Where's your dark savior now, bird?" he mocks me. "Not so brave when you don't have your bodyguard, are you?"

  I realize how exposed I am, only wearing Matteo's shirt. My bare legs feel cold, and I'm painfully aware of the fact that I'm not wearing any underwear. "I'll scream," I warn the intruder. "I'll scream my head off if you come near me."

  "Poor little bird," the savage laughs. "Think anyone's gonna help you? This is a bad neighborhood birdie, and no one will come help you. Get that through that pretty little head of yours."

  He advances on me and I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He reaches me with a few long steps, grabbing my hair and pulling back, hard. He's enormous. I have to twist my neck to look up at him.

  "Little bird, are you afraid?" he breathes down my neck.

  He is nothing like Matteo. Matteo is a cold burn, a kind vigilante. This man... he is blackness, he is a dark void. He's vicious eyes and dark intentions. He's going to kill me. But not until I give him what he wants.

  "Let me go," I manage to get out. "He... He'll be back any second."

  He grabs one of my hands and pins it above my head, and I panic. My free hand is searching for something I could use as a weapon, but there's only the wall and the thug's hard muscles.

  "Shut up, sweetness," he tells me. "We're leaving."

  With all my might, I ram my knee into his groin. But it's all for nothing - he sees it coming, grabbing me by my shoulders and throwing me against the wall. I tumble to the floor, the tears coming hot and heavy. My whole body is in pain, but he's not done.

  "Rule number one," he growls. "You obey. Every. Fucking. Order." He yanks me up by my hair and I shake uncontrollably. He slams me back then, but he misses the wall and I land in the window. The glass shatters and falls to the floor in a shower of shards. I scream in horror as I feel gashes open on my arms, on my back. I feel the blood running.

  "See what you made me do?" The man roars. "If you made me scar that pretty face of yours, you will fucking pay."

  I can't even get up. I'm on my knees, cutting my palms on the glass on the floor. "Please.." I manage weakly.

  He lifts me up as if I weight nothing, inspecting my body. I can feel several cuts and scrapes, and my own blood is sprayed on the floor, the sheets, Matteo's shirt.

  "Time to go," the man says. "This might hurt, little bird."

  He slams his fist into the side of my head and thankfully, mercifully, it all goes black.

  Pounding.

  Heavy, horrible pounding in my head.

  I stir, but I can't move. I'm bound to something. My whole body aches, pain stinging me and waking me up from my slumber. I move fitfully, but I can't get free. My heavy eyes fly open and panic overwhelms me.

  Another nightmare.

  Another main character.

  A fucking living hell.

  I'm not in a cell, not this time around. Now, I'm in a luxurious bedroom fit for a princess. There's pretty white furniture, including a lovely dressing table. It's similar to the room at home. Except in my house, I'm not bound to the bed with ropes tied to the bedpost.

  I squirm in the ties, but I can't move. My feet are free, and I kick at the sheets, desperate to get free. It serves no purpose - the ropes are tightly wound around my wrists and I can't get free.

  "Aren't you cute, trying to escape." A cold voice interrupts me and I look up at my captor.

  "Who are you?" I demand to know. "This is Abbate's work? My father will kill you all."

  "Oh, pretty little bird." He approaches me slowly, like a predator getting ready to strike. “Your father will die before he gets a chance to avenge you. Abbate will make sure of it.”

  I look at the man with confusion. “I don’t understand… Matteo was trying to save me. Are you here to take me back to the cell? Is Abbate going to murder me?”

  “This has nothing to do with him.” His finger traces my jawline and I struggle against his touch. I don’t like his hands on me. It feels dirty to be touched by him. “It has everything to do with this, though.” He gets rougher, rubbing my cheeks with his thumb.

  “This pretty little face, perky tits, and that slit between your thighs, birdie.”

  I shiver. It doesn’t feel right, not like it did with Matteo.

  “You’re a personal interest,” the man continues. “A selfish desire I want to have fulfilled.”

  I swallow thickly, trying to move away from him, but the binds prevent me from doing that. “What’s going to happen to me?” I wonder, my voice quiet and broken already. But he won’t break my body as fast. I’m going to struggle every fucking step of the way.

  “You’ll be mine,” he says simply. “I have a basement with your name on it, birdie. I’ll make sure you never see the sun again. And I’ll make sure to make you bleed as prettily as you did in Matteo’s apartment.”

  I’m shivering at this point, desperate to get away from him. “Please,” I beg softly. “You don’t have to do this. My father will pay you handsomely if you just let me go.”

  “Your father?” My captor, whose name I still don’t know, chuckles darkly. “I don’t give a fuck about your father, bird. All I care about is fucking your pretty little face until you choke on my cock.”

  “Then Abbate!” I’m grasping for straws. “Surely he will know you took me. He won’t let you get away with that.”

  “And how will he know it was me?” he asks. I realize he’s right as soon as the words leave my mouth. He wore gloves when he took me from Matteo’s apartment. There’s not a trace of him left behind. I feel my blood running cold in my veins.

  “That’s right, birdie,” he says, sounding so full of himself. “I thought of everything. As soon as I saw you in that cell, I knew I had to have you. Now you’re all mine, and no one will ever know.”

  He reaches for the binds and shocks me by untying them. I rest until he’s done, but as soon as they’re off my wrists, I lunge for him, attacking the man with all my might. But he grabs my arms and holds them in a strong grip, as if I’m barely a threat to him. He laughs in my face as I struggle to regain control.

  “I think I’m going to make you bleed before you cum,” he tells me. “I want to see that dark blood pooling at my feet again.”

  My eyes widen, adrenaline rushing through my body. “Please,” I beg him again. But this time, I don’t beg for freedom. He’s made it very clear that he won’t give me that… I’m begging for my life instead. “I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt me.”

  “Shut up.” He slaps me, and the contact of his hand hitting mine throws me back on the bed. I recover from his strike, realizing just how strong he is. He barely put any effort into the hit, and I’m still reeling from it. I’m so fucked.

  He leaves me on the bed with my heart pounding and my cheek radiating pain. Walking over to the door, he doesn’t give me a single look as he shuts the door. Next thing I hear is a key turning in the lock, and I scream my head off until my voice goes. It must be at least a few minutes, but it feels like hours in this place.

  When I’m utterly exhausted by my screaming, I get off the bed, pressing a cool palm to my cheek. It still hurts so badly, but I’m not about to sit idly by as this man attempts to hurt me. I need to research
where I am, find out more about the man who’s taken me captive.

  I walk through the room. There’s the bedroom, and an en-suite bathroom here. Every object I could use as a weapon has either been removed or nailed down firmly. Even if it weren’t, I could never defeat the monster who’s keeping me here against my will. He’s a mountain of muscle and determination. Even when I lunged at him, giving it my all, he swatted me away like an annoying fly.

  I explore the space instead, needing something to distract myself with. I assumed it was nighttime outside, because all the lights were lit up in the room. But now I’m realizing it’s because there are no windows, and I realize I’m in a basement of some sort. The man mentioned putting me underground, and I see he’s already gone through with the decision.

  I have no idea where I am.

  No clue who the man who took me is.

  I know he’s going to hurt me in more ways than I can possibly imagine.

  My thoughts flit back to Matteo and the time we spent together. As much as I want to hate him, there was something there, something I didn’t feel willingly. A spark of something dark and delicious that makes me want him more than anyone or anything I’ve wanted my whole life.

  And just like that, I become sure of another thing.

  Wherever I am, he will come for me.

  Whoever took me will die from his hand.

  Matteo will come for me, and he will save me.

  I just hope he is fast enough… And I hope we’ll walk out of this hellhole hand-in-hand, not with him carrying my lifeless body in his arms.

  My father’s fist smashes into the wall. He is cursing in Italian, some words that even I don’t recognize.

  10

  Matteo

  My father’s fist smashes into the wall. He is cursing in Italian, some words that even I don’t recognize. I know I'm going to have a black eye tomorrow from the blow he delivered to my face, but I'm past the point of caring. All I want is Bianca. Her soft skin against mine, arms wrapped around my neck.

  "We have to find her," I say. "Someone took her."

  "You stupid son of a bitch," my father snarls at me. I don't correct his wording, since he just insulted himself as well. Then again, he still doesn't see me as his son, which explains his words. "She ran."

  "She didn't fucking run!" I yell at him. "She's been taken. Are you fucking blind, old man?" I point around the mess in the room, the shattered window, the blood covering the floor. "Can't you see there was a struggle?"

  "That could've been staged easily enough," he says, pacing the room. His shoulders are tense and he's pissed off as hell. I know he blames me for this. "She ran from you, and from me. Back to her Daddy. What makes you think she didn't?"

  "Shut the fuck up," I snap. "She didn't run. She wouldn't run from me."

  "Sure." My father snarls in anger and pulls me closer, grabbing a fistful of my shirt. "You're going to find her. You're going to fix this goddamn mess if it's the last thing you do!"

  I don't disagree with him. Finding Bianca and bringing her back to safety is my first priority right now. I need to make sure she's alright. Need to bring her back to me.

  "Where do we start?" I ask, already planning what to do in my head.

  "Call the brothers," my father says, already sounding defeated. "Have them search for her. One place at a time."

  "I don't think this was Da Costa or his men," I say, furrowing my eyebrows. "Her daddy never would've hurt her. She told me - he really loves her."

  "Who, then?" My father looks like he's about to be violently sick all over the floor, and I assume I have the same look about me. "Why would someone kidnap her, again?"

  "Does Da Costa have any other enemies?" I wonder out loud.

  "I'm sure he does, but no one who would try to hurt his daughter," my father says.

  "Yeah, only you're crazy enough for that." I feel fucking angry, even though I don't really have a reason. Had my father not decided he needed to have Bianca, she never would've walked into my life.

  We're looking around the room aimlessly. After a few minutes, my father excuses himself to make a call, and steps outside. I remain in the bedroom, the signs of struggle my beautiful girl went through making my blood boil. I kneel down on the floor and find her lingerie discarded there still. So when they took her, she must've been naked...

  My fingers form a fist around the skimpy piece of fabric and I feel angrier than ever. That girl is mine. I will decide her fate. I will keep her safe. And no-fucking-one else.

  Father walks back into the room, stopping when he sees me kneeling on the floor. I don't attempt to hide the pain I feel from him this time. I know he thinks me weak. He probably thinks I'm ridiculous for developing feelings for a captive girl, but... He just told me he's experienced love at least once in this love.

  Wait a fucking minute.

  Love?

  This can't be fucking love.

  Love shouldn't feel like this.

  Love isn't a primal urge to protect her, fuck her, save her, show her what she means to me, and give her everything I can. Love isn't supposed to be so wrong. Love doesn't leave your heart bleeding when she's taken away.

  "I don't understand." The words leave my mouth without me meaning to say them.

  My father's heavy palm comes to rest on my shoulder. "It's alright," he tells me. "You will, son. In time you will understand."

  He just called me his son, and I can't even respond. I'm too caught up in this, in the fact that she's gone. I need her back. I need my princess back at any cost.

  We stay like that for a long time, until I stop thinking about time passing and find comfort in my father's touch instead. I wait until I've calmed down, which coincides with a knock on the door.

  I get up slowly, bracing myself against the bed. I feel like a weak old man, unable to do anything. Too broken to react when the three brothers walk into the room. I try to focus on them to stop thinking about my predicament. I need something to distract me instead.

  Antonio, Francesco and Pietro are all staring at me like I'm some kind of wounded animal. My father helps me get up and I get on my feet, feeling them wobble under me. I feel destroyed, but at the same time I know if Bianca's kidnapper revealed himself to me right now, I would kill him with my bare hands.

  "What the fuck?" Pietro asks. He's the smallest of the three brothers, the middle child. He's the one I would most likely be friends with, if that were an option.

  "He took Bianca," my father explains. His voice is tired. "You three pricks were supposed to be watching her, and Matteo took her to his apartment.

  "So? Where is she?" Francesco wants to know. The youngest, and also the boldest. He's the one I'd be intimidated to fight. It's not his brawn, it's the sheer anger and hatred that radiates off him, and also - I assume - the reason he got himself and his brothers involved with the mob.

  "She's gone," I admit. "Someone took her from my apartment."

  "You weren't watching her?" Pietro scratches his head. "Fuck man, why?"

  "I just left to go see him." I point towards my father. "I needed to talk about something. I assumed no one knew where she was... No one knows about this apartment."

  "It's alright." Antonio steps closer, placing a heavy hand on my shoulders. The only one out of the three brothers I consider a friend. The oldest, the strongest, and the kindest. "It's not your fault, Matteo."

  "Damn fucking right it is!" Francesco exclaims. "If he were keeping a closer eye on her, this wouldn't have happened."

  "Shut the fuck up," my father tells him. "You don't know shit. You were called here to find her, so get to work. Scour this room and the apartment for evidence. Ask the people who live here if they saw anything, bribe them if you have to."

  They all nod silently and file out of the room to do what he told them. I head to the living room of my now destroyed apartment, feeling defeated. So fucking helpless. There's nothing I can do but wait until the person who took her reveals himself. And then I can tear him to
pieces.

  My father joins me on the old sofa, and his look of disgust as he sits down doesn't escape me. But I appreciate that he's trying. It's more than he's done for me his whole life. I know there's some selfish intent behind his actions, but for the first time in my life, I feel like he actually cares about my feelings.

  "We need to find her," I tell him. "I fucking need her next to me."

  "What happened between you two?" My father asks.

  "You-I... You don't need to know." I cover my face with my hands, having trouble breathing properly.

  "I can assume."

  "I didn't sleep with her," I say abruptly, and my father simply nods. "She's... she's a virgin."

  He doesn't say the words we're both thinking. If someone took her, she might not remain one for too long.

  "You sure she didn't run?" father asks again. I shake my head almost violently, pissed off at him for even asking.

  "She wouldn't. She... she had chances before, and she never took them," I say. "She wanted to stay here, with me. She didn't want to go back to the cell or even her father."

  "We'll find her," my father says.

  "We have to," I reply. My words are somber, and I mean them. She needs to be back where she belongs - next to me. I'll do anything. And if someone hurt her, I will...

  "Found something." Antonio walks out and presents us with a gun. I widen my eyes. There was no gun when my father and I were in the room.

  "Where?" I bark.

  "Under the bed." Pietro joins us in the living room and gives me an apologetic look. "Looks like someone kicked it under the bed during the murder."

  "Murder?" My father is staring at the men with a confused expression on his face.

  Francesco walks in, looking uncomfortable as fuck. "Given that there was a gun... We think she was killed."

  My heart swells with pain. I feel drained as fuck, completely helpless. It can't be true, though. If she were dead, surely I would know. Surely I would feel the loss of her life, even if she wasn't nearby.

  "She's not dead," I snap. "She's not fucking dead. Take that back."