by Cala Riley
Once the pasta is heated, I tell Nico to take a long patrol before making my way up to the room.
She’s sitting on the bed when I come in, staring at the wall.
She glances over at me, frowning when I set the food on the table before making my way back toward the door.
“Please,” the softest whisper comes out of her.
I pause and glance back.
“Can you at least sit in here with me for a minute? I miss our dinners together.”
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t need your lies. You don’t have to put on an act to placate me.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m not lying. I know trying to leave was wrong. I’ve thought about what you said earlier. I’ve never been harmed here. You feed me and give me a warm place to sleep. I don’t even know why I was trying to leave, to be honest.”
“That’s a lie,” I tell her, moving toward the end of the bed to take a seat.
“Okay, I know why. Maybe I’m embarrassed to admit it.”
“Tell me,” I urge her.
She hesitates. “I woke up that morning and realized I hadn’t even been trying to escape anymore. I was making excuses to myself about why that day wasn’t a good day to try. I was scared I was getting used to this life and that at any second you could rip it from me. So I decided to leave on my own terms.”
My heartbeat quickens at her words.
She was leaving because she didn’t want me to kick her out.
“Are you afraid of me, cara?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Not in the physical sense. I don’t think you would hit me or kill me, but mentally? I’m afraid of what I’ve come to feel here.” She taps her temple.
“What is that?”
“I’ve started to think of this place as my own. It scares me.”
“This is the first time you’ve actually opened up to me. Did you know that?”
“What are you talking about? We used to talk all the time before you isolated me here.”
“We talked, but about books, food, and other trivial stuff. You’ve never once expressed what you were feeling. I think this is a breakthrough for you. You trusted me enough to share that. Thank you.”
She freezes, then lets out a breath. “I guess I did.”
“How about tonight, we eat downstairs together?” I tell her.
“You’re going to let me out of this room?”
“For dinner only. Then you’ll be locked back up here. This is a small reward for your honesty. You’ll have to earn my trust back.”
“I understand that now. Thank you for this kindness.”
I grab her plate and lead her back to the kitchen where I set it on the counter. Then I grab a second plate and work on heating up food for myself.
When I turn around, I see her sitting at her place, not eating.
“Eat up,” I tell her.
“I want to wait until you sit down. It’s the polite thing to do.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell her.
“I want to. I want us to eat together.”
I nod, turning back to the microwave. Once heated, I take my seat next to her at the island.
She reaches her hand out to me and I smile. After the second dinner we had, she asked me why I bowed my head for a few moments before eating. When I told her it was because I was saying grace, she asked me to say it out loud. So I did that night, and every night after that.
I take her hand, bowing my head. “Lord, please bless this food. Bless our family and keep us safe. Thank you for all the blessings you have given us. Be with us every day. In your name, we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” she whispers before taking a tentative bite of her food.
We eat in silence for a few moments before I speak. “I thought you would be a chatterbox after being locked away for so long.”
She gives me a small smile. “I’m just happy to be here with you. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin it.”
I frown into my plate. “I don’t want you to censor yourself. You should speak freely. Unless you are saying something on purpose to cause trouble, I won’t punish you.”
She nods, taking another bite.
“What have you been doing in the room by yourself?” I prompt, hoping she takes the hint and starts talking.
I never thought I would miss the sound of her voice.
I’ve never once second guessed an action I’ve taken, but today I am. I’m wondering if the isolation did more harm than help.
“Nothing. There isn’t much to do. I took a couple of baths and tried to clean up the best I can. You don’t have a broom or mop or any cleaner up there.”
I make a mental note to get the items for her.
“I’d say I’m sorry your punishment has been rough, but that was the point of it and I told you not to lie to me so I won’t lie to you.”
“I appreciate that. I do like looking out the window, though. There is a bird’s nest in the tree next to the garage.”
“Do you know what kind they are?”
She sighs. “No, but they are pretty.”
“I’m glad you enjoy them.”
“Would you be willing to tell me about your day?”
I glance up and see that she sincerely wants to know. “I was here most of the day. I worked from my office. Mostly a lot of paperwork.”
“If you were here, why didn’t you bring me lunch like you said you were going to?”
“I was in the middle of something.” Not a complete lie. “I figured you wanted to see Nico to apologize, anyway.”
“I did. Why did you hurt him?”
“I didn’t. It was his punishment for disobeying a direct order. When I give an order, I do so for a reason. His was to protect you, even if it was from yourself.”
“So what is your reasoning for the orders you give me?” she asks.
“Maybe one day I’ll tell you. If you’re done, I need to get back to work.”
She frowns but takes the dishes to the sink before washing them.
I escort her back up to the room.
“Have a good night, Vanessa.”
“Wait,” she calls before I shut the door. “What can I do to earn a book?”
I think about her words. She may be getting it after all.
“I’ll think about a task, but not tonight. I hope you sleep well.”
She gives me a small smile. “Thank you, Matteo.”
The next morning, I’m surprised when Matteo comes into the room with a pile of clothes. He sets them on the bed before taking a book out from underneath his arm and setting it on top.
“I expect the clothes to be put away and in exchange, you’ll have this book. First, come down for breakfast.”
I go to follow him, but stop. “Can I brush my teeth first?”
He narrows his eyes, but nods. “Meet me in the kitchen. If you’re not down there in three minutes, I’ll come looking, cara. Don’t test me.”
“I won’t.” I rush into the bathroom, picking up my toothbrush.
With a minute to spare, I slide into my seat at the island.
“I’m making waffles this morning. I think you’ll enjoy them,” Matteo says to me, never turning back to be sure I’m the one here.
“It sounds delicious. We used to have them sometimes when I was in foster care. This one mom bought the frozen ones a lot so we could pop them in the toaster and go. She was one of the nicer ones.”
He pauses, looking back at me. “Were they all bad?”
I shrug. “None were overly bad per se, but we aren’t their kids. Most of them were only taking kids in to collect an extra check. Sure, they would feed us, but it was the cheapest stuff they could find.”
He fills two plates before joining me.
“What made you leave for good?”
“The school system had failed me. They never took the time to help me when I struggled, so I dropped out. My foster dad at the time became angry and went to raise a hand to me. My foster mom stopped him, but only because it would threaten
their check. That night, I grabbed my stuff and left. I’ve never looked back.”
“That’s a hard thing to go through.”
“At the time it was, but now? It wasn’t so bad. I might have been homeless, but I felt safer than I had in any of those homes. If you think homeless shelters can get bad, you don’t want to see a foster home full of kids with pent-up rage and mommy and daddy problems.”
He frowns. “That’s terrible. Why doesn’t anyone do anything about it?”
“Not enough foster homes. They do their best to screen them, but at the end of the day there are more foster children than there are foster homes, so they cut corners. Push through some homes that might not be ideal, but still better than nothing. For the younger kids, it makes sense, but once you’re old enough, you know when it’s time to go.”
“That’s unsettling.”
I shrug, taking a bite of my waffle covered in butter and syrup. “Unless you’ve lived through it, you wouldn’t know. Don’t feel too bad about it. Everyone has their own shit to deal with.”
He’s quiet as he eats his own food. Once done, I take the dishes to the sink and clean them, much like I did before.
When he kidnapped me, he originally said he wanted me to clean, so that’s what I plan to do. Clean this house until it’s spotless.
Once done, I turn to him. “I’ll go upstairs and put your clothes away unless you need anything else down here.”
He gets up, moving closer to me, boxing me into the counter. My heart races at his proximity, but no longer are my thoughts filled with fear of what he will do to me. Instead, I’m wondering what his next move will be. How it would feel for him to press his lips to mine.
When I was in foster care, I saw more than my fair share of other kids being intimate with others. I never allowed myself to trust another enough to allow them anywhere close, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t envy them for their ability to share something with another human being.
Now, standing close to Matteo, I wonder if this is what they felt. The fluttering in their stomach. The feel of their chest rising quicker with each breath. The want to know what his lips would feel on my own. Would they be soft like they look or rough like his personality?
Instead of kissing me, he reaches out and slowly pulls me into his arms. I freeze for a moment, not sure what he is doing.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m hugging you.”
“It’s been a long time since anyone has hugged me,” I admit, my hands slowly coming up to rest on his back.
“I figured as much, and after that story you told, I thought we could both use one.”
He holds me for a few moments longer. I relish in the warm embrace, loving the way it makes my skin feel like every nerve ending is coming alive.
A throat clearing from behind us ends the moment, but Matteo doesn’t let go right away, instead looking over his shoulder.
“Sorry to bother you, boss. Frankie called and said it’s urgent.”
I recognize Nico’s voice.
“I’ll be right there.” Matteo pulls back and looks in my eyes. “You can go to your room now. If I don’t see you at lunch, I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Okay,” I answer him.
He pulls me in for another quick hug before turning and leaving the room.
Not wanting to take advantage of his kindness, I make my way up the stairs after he leaves. I go straight to my room and shut the door behind me before getting to work putting his clothes away.
Once done, I settle in to read the book he brought me.
I smile when I read the title.
Bird Watching: Birds You Can Find in New York State.
That warm feeling blooms again.
I’ve gotten used to his two personalities. The one who is cold-hearted and ruthless and the one who is kind and sweet. At first, it was frustrating never knowing which one would come out to play. Now that I’ve spent more time with him, I’m starting to appreciate both sides of him.
I can now see that the lines between the two sides are blurred. He is cold and ruthless when he needs to be because he cares.
I think he might actually care for me.
As quick as my heart beats faster, I remind myself to keep it cool. I can’t read into any of his actions. Maybe he feels bad for me.
But that hug.
That hug felt like something. Felt like he might feel something more.
As soon as I shut the door, I take the phone from Nico’s hand.
“What is it?”
Frankie’s voice fills the line. “That punk kid struck again. This time Art’s crew. He got a good look at the kid this time. An interesting development has come to light.”
“Meet me at the club in twenty.”
I hang up the phone before turning to Nico.
“Make sure she eats lunch. Don’t lock her in. I want to see what she does. You can talk to her, but you don’t have to. Feel her out. See if she’s still a flight risk.”
“Of course.”
I leave without another word, making my way to the club. As soon as I get to my floor, Frankie is waiting for me.
“Come in.” I gesture, unlocking the door for him.
He stands in front of my desk waiting for me to sit. Once I do, I gesture for him to take a seat.
“Art recognized one of the guys the kid was with. He’s a low-level Westie. The kid himself he hasn’t seen much of before, but he believes he might also be a Westie.”
“Well, that changes everything.”
“Art only defended himself, not wanting to give up the goods, but also not wanting to start a war. They ran off when his backup arrived.”
“Good thinking. You’re doing a good job overseeing them. Do some digging and see what we can find out about this kid you keep seeing and also see if we can get a name on the confirmed Westie.”
“On it, boss.”
Once he leaves, I make a phone call to Bash.
“Hello, Matteo.”
“Hey, Bash. We might have an issue out here.”
“What kind of issue?”
“The kind that might involve a certain green friend we have recently obtained.”
“How immediate?”
“Still taking stock of what’s going on, but probably fairly soon.”
“Sunday dinner soon?”
“Sunday dinner should be fine. If I need to come out sooner, I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good. Take care.”
“You too.”
Sighing, I lay my head on my desk for a moment. I had every intention to work from home today and spend more time with Vanessa. The more she reveals, the more I want to learn about her.
I don’t know what made me hug her this morning, but I wasn’t lying. I think we both needed it.
There was a rightness I felt with her in my arms I’ve never felt before. She fits perfectly there.
I look at my phone, texting Nico.
Me: Anything yet?
Nico: She’s in your room. No unusual noise.
She’s probably putting away my clothes or reading. I smile when I think about the book I got her.
I sent Nico out late last night to find it. She seems to like the birds in the back yard, so I figured getting her a bird-watching book would help her identify it.
If I had a way to make sure those birds stayed there, I would.
I shake my head from those thoughts. I can’t keep thinking about her like she’s someone I’m going to keep. I kidnapped her and even if I wanted to keep her, I can’t.
Why can’t you? the devil on my shoulder asks.
I already kidnapped her, so why can’t I keep her for myself.
Because she is a human being. She has the right to make that choice on her own. My moral side reminds the devil.
If I were to let her go now, I know she’d go running. She said she was scared I was going to kick her out, which I would never do, but what if I let her leave of her own volition? Would she still w
ant to leave?
Instead of continuing to analyze my thoughts, I throw myself into my work. Balancing books, checking inventory, checking in with employees. All of it is a delicate balance keeping this business afloat.
Not to mention cleaning the money we collect.
Very delicate indeed.
It isn’t until much later that I receive a text from Nico.
Nico: She ate lunch a while ago but is asking about dinner. What should I tell her?
Me: Tell her I’ll be home soon but let her in the kitchen to make herself something if she is hungry. She can eat at the counter, but no lingering.
Nico: Yes, sir.
Belatedly, I wonder if I’m giving her too much freedom again, but I nip that thought in the bud. She’s been in the room all day without being locked in and hasn’t tried an escape yet. I told her she would have to earn my trust back. This is how she’ll do it.
I’ll give her inches of freedom back and watch her every move.
Pulling up my camera feed from inside the house, I watch as she makes her way down the stairs.
I could watch her in the room, but for now, I’ll give her that privacy.
Once in the kitchen, she pulls out a cookbook from a drawer. She looks in the fridge and back to the cookbook a couple of times before she starts pulling items out.
I tense, waiting for the gimmick. This is how she got Nico to trust her the first time.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m collecting my things and heading out of the club.
“You want me to call a car?” Jackson asks.
“No, I’m going to walk.”
He nods, and I know he is going to relay this to the rest of my team. Once on the street, I continue taking glances at my phone while watching my surroundings.
When I get to the corner of two cross streets, I pause, waiting for the light to tell me it’s safe to walk. I glance down again, loving the way Vanessa moves around the kitchen.
Someone bumps me slightly. I turn, ready for a fight, but it’s just a guy my age also looking at his phone.
“Sorry, man.” He looks to my phone, which I pocket quickly once I see where his eyes went to. “Phones, man. They are killing our generation.”
One of my guards gives me a look, but I shake my head.
The guy doesn’t say anything more, turning back to his phone, but I keep my eye on him. Once the walk light comes on, I let him walk first, letting the tension go when he goes left on the other side of the street instead of keeping straight like me. He seems oblivious to the danger he was just in.
