“You can pick something out to wear today,” I tell her. “Everything is yours. If it doesn’t fit, or you don’t like it, I’ll have it exchanged.”
“You can’t be serious,” she says, staring at the rack of clothes in front of her. Most of the things are still wrapped in protective plastic and tissue paper: gowns, skirts, blouses, purses and belts, shoes, boxes of jewelry. I had to guess at most of her sizes, of course, but there was a little cheating involved. I simply had someone take a look at the clothes in her closet at home and tell me what they were.
“I’m deadly serious,” I say, moving to pull out one gown from the rack. “Here. Try it on.”
“No,” Carina says. It stuns me. I can only stare at her for a moment. Of all of the possible reactions I envisaged, this was not one of them.
“Why not?” I ask, at length. I gesture towards the ensuite bathroom. “You can have privacy while you change.”
“Because I don’t want your bribes,” Carina says, then blinks and shakes her head. “What’s the point of this, anyway?”
“They aren’t bribes,” I tell her. “And the point is to show you that I was telling the truth.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Carina purses her lips. “You wait for my Dad to pay you back, and in the meantime, you spend so much money on me?”
“Much more money, as it happens,” I say mildly.
“Then what is the meaning of this?” Carina shakes her head, with what I realize is something close to fury. “These gifts, who are they really for? Because they aren’t for me.”
“Yes, they are,” I say, cocking my head at her curiously. I’m interested in how she thinks, how she came to this conclusion.
“No,” Carina repeats. “Either way, I won’t be leaving here with them. I don’t want them. Take them away.”
“They’re bought and paid for,” I say, but I shrug. “I’ll leave them here. If you don’t want them, so be it. They will go to waste.”
I walk out and leave her. Perhaps she will be more forthcoming with trying the clothes and the jewels when I’m not there to make her feel shy. There seems to be some kind of righteousness in her, but I don’t understand it either, the way she says she doesn’t understand me. If she takes the clothes and sells them, she can make back what her father owes me easily. I wouldn’t be able to stop her. And yet, she resists.
Perhaps I’m not yet anywhere close to claiming her heart. I have to hope that she will come around – but I didn’t become Tommy Lucio by just hoping that things would go my way. No, I have to make plans.
The question is, what more can I do? I will show her little by little who I am and what being with me could mean, but we have limited time here. I need to find a new strategy. She’s not the kind of woman whose heart can be won just with flashy gifts and money. She needs more.
As I would expect from the perfect mate of my soul, the match to my fire. I’ve never tried to win a woman over before, and I have to operate by passion and instinct rather than experience from the women who are always trying to get their claws into me, but I will do it. She’s different. But when she’s mine, these gifts will look like child’s play, quaint little things that have no match to the luxury I will give her.
First, we have to get there. And I have to think about what I will do next in order to make it happen.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Carina
After Tommy leaves, I stare at the show of fabulous wealth he’s left in my room. If I’m being honest with myself – only myself, because I wouldn’t admit it to anyone else here – I’m touched by the gesture. Just like that, he went out and hunted down all the things I wanted. Things I would never even dream of owning under any normal circumstances. Still, I don’t believe that I truly own them. When I leave here, he will probably give them to some other girl. I haven’t seen him with anyone else, but a boss like him – he must have women all over him all the time.
I try to resist the urge to look for a long while, but I’m uncomfortable in my clothes, worn since yesterday. I creep to the door and make sure that it is locked – even if it isn’t much reassurance, given that the lock is on the other side – before looking guiltily at the racks. It wouldn’t hurt to take one thing, would it? In fact, it could even be an act of defiance. To take from him, to name something as my own, even as he holds me captive here. I could spend a little of his money, and enjoy it.
I make a split-second decision and snatch a blouse and a pair of jeans from the rack before I can change my mind. I rush into the bathroom – which, in this case, has a lock on the correct side – and lock myself in, shaking a little at the thought of wearing these clothes.
There’s something to it – the thought of being dressed in things that he picked out. That he bought. Almost as though he is beginning to own me. I should despise the thought, but there’s that rush of heat again – pooling in the pit of my stomach. I undress quickly and shower, trying to put thoughts of Tommy out of my mind. I have other things to think about, like what I’m going to do with my time for the rest of the week here, what I’ll need to do when I get home.
I think of the missed messages I must have, notifications on my phone, and shudder a little. At least they say that it’s good to take a break from social media. I’m getting that, whether I want it or not.
When I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and reach for the clothes, I’m surprised by how well they fit. Like they were made for me. Not only that, but I can see the difference in quality. How they flatter my body, how the materials are soft under my fingers, yet strong and durable. I guess you really do get what you pay for.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and almost frown. I don’t look like me. Well, I do, but a better, more upgraded version. I can’t help but find myself warming to Tommy a little. Maybe my defenses are down because of how hot he is, how easy it is for my mind to drift to fantasy when he’s around. I know I shouldn’t feel anything towards him – especially anything like gratitude.
But somehow, I can’t help but view him in a positive light, and it’s making it very dangerous for me to stay here, in his orbit.
I sit around, flicking idly through a few of the books in the room for the rest of the morning. It feels strange to sit so still with nothing to do. I’m usually rushing around trying to get the baking done, but now I don’t have anything to occupy my time. I don’t dare look over the rest of the clothes in case I’m tempted to try them on. The jewelry stays firmly inside the boxes. Needing to be dressed in clean clothes is one thing – accepting his gifts without question is another.
There’s a knock at the door just after noon and then the turning of a key in the lock, and just a moment later, Tommy steps through. I see that he’s pushing another cart full of lunch – no goons with him this time. Just as well. I still haven’t got over the way they treated me, yanking me from my home and shoving me into a car.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Tommy says. He eyes my clothes with a sparkle in his gaze but says nothing. I don’t speak either. I don’t want him to be any more smug than he already is.
“I’ve hardly had any chance to work up an appetite,” I scoff.
“I can bring you some activities to occupy your time, if you only ask,” Tommy says, with that same mild tone that seems to infuriate me so much. He shouldn’t be speaking to me that way. He should be yelling, swearing, calling me names. It would make it easier to understand how I feel about him – replace the want with hate. “In the meantime, lunch is a good enough diversion.”
I barely notice the food as Tommy sets it down on the table, then immediately slips out of his suit jacket. He’s wearing a shirt underneath that clings to his body, following the bulging lines of his chest down over what I can only imagine must be six-pack abs. His arms and shoulders look massive, and before he sits down I find myself staring and force myself to look away.
“So, what do you need?” Tommy asks.
“A laptop,” I tell him. “I know you won’t let
me use the internet, but I can at least use some programs. I’m bored. I need something to do.”
“Alright,” Tommy says. “I’ll bring you one this afternoon.”
I can’t help it, I love the way he takes care of me. In spite of the way I’ve protested out loud, inside I feel something entirely different. The way he gives me literally anything I ask for and comes to eat with me when he certainly doesn’t need to, asks constantly after my welfare. I feel more like a princess than a prisoner. But I can’t forget why I’m here.
“And a notebook and pen,” I say quickly before he can object. “And some music. I’d like to be able to play some music.”
Tommy nods. “I have some business early this evening that can’t be avoided. But afterward, I’ll bring you what you’ve asked for.”
“You could send one of your men,” I suggest. I don’t want to wait to have something to entertain myself with. If I’m left to my own devices, the only option remaining might be daydreaming about him, and that isn’t something I can do. As much as I like the prospect of a guaranteed visit from him this afternoon, I also want something I can bury myself in so that I no longer have to think.
“Alright,” Tommy says. “I’ll have John Twice come by.”
“John Twice?” I lift an eyebrow, sure I must have misheard.
“It’s not his real name,” Tommy says as if that must be obvious. “He’ll bring you what you need while I’m out.”
We finish lunch and Tommy gathers himself, putting on his suit jacket – a movement that gives me a chance to ogle his body under the shirt some more while he stretches up – and straightening it out. He leaves the food cart and plates. I suppose he thinks John Twice will remove them, and besides, I can’t do much damage with just a fork.
I could certainly try, though.
I’m alone again until the door opens forcefully, sometime later, without a knock this time. Standing in the doorway is a man I recognize, he’s been around and about the house since I was brought here. I suppose he must be the infamous John Twice.
“Gifts from the boss,” he grunts, shoving a boxed-up laptop and pencil case along with a notebook onto the table next to the dirty plates. “You must really be something special.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask, scrambling to my feet and moving towards the laptop. I stop just short, there’s something about John Twice that frightens me. He’s wearing a sneer that seems perpetual, given by the fact that he’s been wearing it every time I’ve seen him. I don’t want to get too close for some reason.
“All this cash he’s throwing at you,” John sneers. “Well, I guess you’re not bad on the eyes.”
I feel myself blush deeply. “So, this isn’t… normal?” I ask hesitantly. The truth is, I have no barometer for Tommy’s behavior. I don’t know if he treats every woman he comes across this way – or if I’m the only one.
John laughs, but it isn’t a kind sound. It sounds like he’s angry about it. “He’s distracted,” he says. “You must be giving it to him.”
“Giving…?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” John steps closer, and I feel myself tense up. I want to step away, but I also don’t want him to know that I’m afraid. “Go on, then. Let’s have some.”
“What are you talking about?” I stutter, leaning back a little in spite of myself.
“I know I’m not quite as smooth as the boss, but come on, I’m a red-blooded man,” John says, sneering at me. “I’ll give you a good time. Let’s get a look at you, go on.”
As he talks his hands move toward me, hovering near my chest, and now I do step back, crossing my arms over myself protectively. “I’m not interested,” I say, trying to make my voice as firm as possible. This can’t be happening – not like this. I won’t let him touch me. I won’t have it.
“What is it, you only like a pretty face?” John’s sneer deepens and he lunges toward me, forcing me to step back. My legs hit the bed and I topple back onto it, unbalanced. “Is that it, you fat bitch? Beggars can’t be choosers. You should be thanking me for the interest.”
“I don’t – I don’t want your interest,” I say, scrambling to get my balance again and move back, away from him – but he’s already towering over me, legs trapping mine against the side of the bed. “Leave me alone!”
“Oh, I’ll leave you when I’m done with you,” John says, and his hands begin reaching toward me, everything happening like it’s in slow motion.
CHAPTER NINE
Tommy
I’m in good spirits as I return to Carina’s room, to make sure that she has everything I arranged for her. Of course, I could just trust that my men have taken care of it, but Carina demands more than that. The personal touch.
And, of course, it’s a great excuse to see her.
I’m in the corridor when I hesitate, hearing voices.
“What are you talking about?” That’s Carina and she sounds nervous. Something in my pulse pounds forward, lurching into a rapid response.
“I know I’m not quite as smooth as the boss, but come on, I’m a red-blooded man,” John says, easily audible through the open door. “I’ll give you a good time. Let’s get a look at you, go on.”
“I’m not interested,” Carina says, making my heart jump into my throat again. Good.
“What is it, you only like a pretty face?” I hear noises, the sound of the bedsprings bouncing, and spring forward, as silently as I can. “Is that it, you fat bitch? Beggars can’t be choosers. You should be thanking me for the interest.”
I see John Twice hovering over Carina, her trying to get away from him – and I see red.
I don’t even hear the rest of their conversation as I surge forward, grab John by the shoulder even as he reaches for her, and throw a punch without pausing. There’s no way I would let him touch her, not even innocently. John Twice sways slightly with a dazed look, but he stays upright, with barely a thought, I hit him again, square on the nose this time. He falls to the floor, hitting it with a thud, his eyes closed and his mouth open stupidly.
The second he’s out of my way I move to my most important priority, Carina. She looks shaken and pale, still backing up over the covers of the bed. “Carina?” I ask her, urgently. “Did he touch you?”
“N-no,” she says, unable, it seems, to drag her eyes away from where he lays on the ground.
“One moment,” I tell her. I step back over him and rush to the door, leaning out. I yell for Ricky and Enzo, then return to her side, reaching for her. “Come on, I’ll take you out of here.”
“Boss?” Enzo looks in from the doorway, his eyes just about bug out of his head as he sees John Twice on the floor.
“Get rid of him,” I snarl. “And make sure everyone knows it. The next man who touches Carina Bianco gets more than a broken nose.”
Even as the two men start to lift John up, I pull Carina around him, hurrying her out of the room. I slip my arm around her shoulders to guide her away. I won’t have her stay in a room where that brute is, his blood spilled on the floor, she doesn’t need to see that. I guide her down the hall to another room I know is empty and take her inside.
As we move towards it, something miraculous happens. First, she clings to me, one hand coming up to grasp a clump of my shirt, holding on for support. Even so, she’s tense and scared and cranes her neck to look over her shoulder as we leave her tormentor behind. When we’re far enough away, and alone, it happens, she relaxes into me.
Reaching safety, closing the door behind us, I draw her to the center of the room and then stand there, unwilling to let go. If she’s beginning to trust me, then there is a possibility that I might actually be able to make this happen. I might be able to show her within this week that she doesn’t need to leave, not even when she has her freedom.
I hold her tightly against me for a moment, slipping a soothing hand over her hair, hoping that she takes my comfort and knows from it that I could offer her so much more.
CHAPTER TE
N
Carina
“Are you sure?” he asks me.
I look up into Tommy’s face and take a shaking breath before I nod. “What difference does it make? It’s not my room, and this isn’t my room, and they’re all inside your home. I might as well be somewhere a little familiar.”
Tommy shrugs as if it’s all the same to him. “Alright. I’ll take you back.”
He comforted me here in this empty room for what felt like hours. His hand stroking over my hair soothed my fears, until I was no longer shaking, no longer feeling like my heart would burst out of my chest with how fast it was pounding.
And then it became something else. Pressed close against his chest by that time, my head buried in it, I became aware of the closeness of our bodies, of his heart thrumming under his skin, his warm flesh. When he was the one to pull away, I was actually almost disappointed – and now I don’t see the point of not returning to the room I’ve been staying in.
“You don’t need to chaperone me,” I sigh. “I’m fine. He’s gone now, right?”
“Right.” Tommy looks at me fiercely. “And no one’s going to bother you again. I mean that. I don’t let my guys act that way. Now that they know about you specifically, they won’t dare.”
“You don’t?” I quirk an eyebrow. Not exactly the mentality I would expect from a crime boss who earns a living by extorting people.
“No!” Tommy exclaims. “I won’t have that kind of behavior. This isn’t the fifties, for God’s sake. It’s unacceptable.”
I look at him, tilting my head, narrowing my eyes in thought. He’s kind of an enigma. The mafia boss who won’t let his men lay a hand on an unwilling woman. The brutish enforcer who is willing to buy me a whole closet of designer clothes – not to mention the diamonds. The sharp-edged man who looks so fine in a suit he could be a model.
“We should go,” I tell him, turning to lead the way so that he can see I’m really not afraid anymore. Even so, I hear him walk behind me, despite my protests against needing a chaperone.
Falling For His Captive Page 3
