Yeah, I could do without spilling wine all over me.
The chicken does smell heavenly. I eye the half-eaten bird. It looks like it’s glazed with honey and there are slices of lemons and fingerling potatoes in the juices on the tray around it.
“I don’t think I can eat that without my hands.”
“I’m not removing the ropes,” Damiano says as he methodically cuts into his meat.
My stomach decides to betray me by emitting a loud growl.
Martina gives me a pitying look. “Dem…”
He looks like he’s about to drag me back down to the basement and be done with this whole charade, but instead he plucks the napkin off his lap, drops it on the table, and jerks me from my chair into his lap.
“What on earth are you doing?”
He reaches around me to take a chicken thigh off the tray and starts to cut into it.
I try to get off him. “I don’t want to sit on you.”
“Stop squirming,” he says with a grunt.
I appreciate Martina trying to stick up for me, but I kind of wish she’d just gotten up and fed me the chicken herself, because this is far worse than staying hungry.
“I don’t need you to feed me,” I hiss at Damiano, but my will to argue leaves me when I smell the chicken up close.
I part my lips, and he puts the fork inside my mouth.
Damn, that’s good. I make a hum of appreciation and try to chew in as dignified manner as my current position allows. He’s still staring at me when I swallow, so I open my mouth again to let him know I’m ready for more.
Damiano’s lips give a hint of a smile. “So it can be trained,” he murmurs before feeding me another forkful.
I clamp down on the utensil with my lips and make sure to get everything. Who knows when he’s going to feed me next? I might as well get as much as I can while the opportunity has presented itself. That way I’ll have enough energy to make a run for it.
He drops his dark gaze to my lips again, and my pulse speeds up. Why is it that one look from him is still enough to get me riled up? Whatever was starting between us is definitely over now, even if he had his fingers inside of me what feels like just moments ago.
I swear he sees that thought reflected in my eyes, and in response, those same fingers tighten around the fork. His nostrils flare with an inhale. His length hardens against the backs of my thighs and sends a burst of warmth through my core.
I’m about to grind against him when I remember where we are.
Jesus. He is my captor. I can’t indulge in the inexplicable physical attraction I feel for him.
A chair squeaks across the floor and breaks the spell. “I’m done, so I’m going back up to my room,” Mari says.
Damiano takes the fork out of my mouth and puts it on his plate with a soft clank. “Take a look at some programs tonight and send me anything you like, all right?”
He went from predator to good older brother in the span of a second, and it’s disorienting as hell.
“I will. Good night.” She gives me an uncertain smile. “Good night, Valentina.”
“Night,” I say.
She leaves, and then it’s just the three of us.
“What now?” I ask. “Are you going to serve me dessert?”
Damiano’s palms wrap around my waist. “Not unless you’re offering yourself up as one.”
My cheeks redden at his hoarse voice. This man has no shame.
Ras stands, his expression bemused. “I’ll wait for you in your office,” he says to Damiano.
“Fine.” His gaze never leaves my face. The air between us crackles with electricity.
For my own sanity, I need to put an end to this.
“I want off,” I say as fiercely as I can manage. “This-” I tilt my chin down toward my body, “-is off-limits to you. Forever.”
He lifts me off him with a quiet chuckle. “Toys exist to be played with.”
“I’m not your toy,” I snap as he puts me back down on my chair. I try to push farther away from him with my feet, but all I accomplish is tipping over my chair. Just when I think I’m about to crack my head on the hardwood floor, Damiano steadies me.
“Time to put you away for the night,” he says, lifting me over his shoulder.
I’m about to beg him not to lock me in the basement again when I notice he’s taking me upstairs.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He halts in front of a door on the second floor of the house and nudges it open with his foot. Once we’re inside, he deposits me on a bed.
I sit up and look around. It seems to be a guest bedroom that hasn’t been used in a while. Besides the bed, there are two nightstands, a console table, and a chair. It’s bare of any personal belongings. The most exciting thing about all of this is the large window, until I realize there’s a metal grate on the outside of it.
Damiano moves back toward the door. “The alarm will go off if you so much as touch that window. Don’t make me take you back below.”
“Fine. How long are you going to keep me here?”
He leaves without giving me an answer and locks the door behind him.
I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. The air in the room is perfectly still. There isn’t a single sound coming through the walls, and I’m left with just my thoughts to keep me company.
It seems the old saying is true. You can never outrun the mafia.
DAMIANO
I leave Valentina and decide I’m not going to think about her for at least the next few days. There’s a plan forming inside my head, and I’ll have to stay focused to make sure it succeeds. Every single one of my brain circuits needs to be firing at one hundred percent, which means I can’t let that woman take an ounce of my attention.
Ras is looking out to the pool when I enter my office.
“Leave your phone here. Let’s go for a walk,” I tell him. Some conversations are better had outside and without any technology, so there’s no chance of anyone listening in.