Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Natalie,” comes his deep voice.
He’s got his hands on his hips and is looming over me.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I say with a loud sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Christ, I believe you. Wrong place, wrong time.”
I freeze. I think for a moment he remembers me, too, but I was a kid then. He couldn’t. And when he speaks, I realize he doesn’t.
“I don’t think you’d be wearing a bright pink coat if you were trying to stay incognito. Blend and all. But you did overhear some shit.”
“I won’t tell anyone. I forgot it already. I don’t even know what it was—”
He shakes his head. “Get up.”
I reach for the phone, the last of my belongings.
“Leave it.”
I look at the destroyed phone. It wouldn’t do me much good now anyway, so I leave it and stand.
“Let’s go,” he says, taking my arm and turning me.
“Where to?”
“My house.”
“Why?” I pull back.
He looks at me. “So I can figure out what to do with you.”
3
Sergio
The girl is sitting beside me wringing her hands in her lap. She’s watching wide-eyed as we pass the exit into the city. She’s quiet, like she promised she would be. It was either that or ride in the trunk. I didn’t really intend on putting her in the trunk, but she doesn’t know that.
She’s scared shitless, but thing is, I believe her.
I don’t think she was out there to spy. I would bet my life she doesn’t even know who the Benedetti name belongs to.
My uncle suggesting a cleaner was dramatic, to say the least. But Roman is all about business. I glance over at her. If it was up to him, we probably would need that cleaner. There are some men in my business who take a sick pleasure for the job of punishing. Business is business for me. I’ll do what I have to do. But soaking my hands in innocent blood doesn’t get my dick hard.
I get off at my exit and Natalie sits up a little taller.
“Where is your house?”
“Chestnut Hill.”
She nods. Is silent.
“Don’t you have another question?”
“What are you going to do to me?”
Ah. There it is. The question that matters. Actually, I haven’t decided what I’m going to do just yet. I need to make sure she doesn’t talk. I need her scared for that.
“Punish you,” I say.
“Punish me?” her voice falters.
I nod once while navigating the lonely, dark streets leading to my house. I don’t normally have to deal with a woman like this and I’m not even sure why I’m bringing her to my house.
“Here we are,” I say, pushing a button to open the tall iron gates as I turn onto the cul-de-sac where my house is one of three, each divided by a heavy stone wall. I wonder what my neighbors have to hide behind theirs.
I pull up along the circular drive and park the car. I get out, then go to her side. She’s still strapped in, staring up at the huge stone structure with its intimidating pillars and oversized, hand-carved wooden front doors. I pull her door open and she jumps. I stand back and gesture for her to get out.
When she doesn’t move, I reach over her, push the button to release her seatbelt and take her arm to encourage her out. She’s pulling back, but thing is, there’s nowhere for her to go. And still, the moment I release her and turn to the front door, she takes off. She’s running back down the drive, back the way we came. Back to the now closed gates. They’re twelve feet tall. She’s not getting out.
But here’s the thing with mice. I don’t mind chasing them. Especially the pretty ones.
And so I do.
I chase my little mouse down the driveway, over the manicured lawn. Up the hill and toward the gates. I could overtake her easily, but I don’t, not yet. I like this.
Just before she reaches the border of the property, I speed up and a moment later, I tackle her to the ground. She lands with a hard thud. It knocks the wind out of her and my weight on top of hers doesn’t help her catch her breath.
I lean up on my elbows.
“Now look what you’ve done,” I say, my voice low. “Dirtied my coat. Your clothes.”
“Please don’t hurt me!” Her voice is loud, it cuts into the night.
I look at her face. Watch her struggle. I let her. Let her tire herself out.
The ground is cold, frozen with the temperatures we’ve been having. I get up on my knees, keep her trapped with my thighs on either side of her hips. When she tries to push me off, I take her wrists and drag her arms over her head, transfer them into one of mine as I lean in close to her.