Elsa
Clean and modern, Marco’s beach home is the complete opposite of the castello. The property stretches out along the Gulf of Naples, each room boasting a magnificent view of the water and Vesuvius. Alessia lives here, while Marco’s wife and children are somewhere else, and he has the luxury of going back and forth, the cheating bastard.
Even though Marco is hardly around, his guards are always present, as is Alessia, which means I ay never alone, and I am exhausted from it. Most of my time is spent wondering if this is the day I will be tortured or raped in revenge against Marcello. Or worse, the day Marco realizes I am of no use to him and puts a bullet in my brain.
I hardly sleep. I eat to keep my stomach settled, but I worry that each bite of food is poisoned. Every noise makes me jump, and my nerves feel stretched to the breaking point. How much more of this can I take?
The possibilities are too terrifying to contemplate.
So despite Alessia’s repeated attempts to forge a friendship with me, I keep to myself. I need to think and figure out an escape. All I needed is an instant, any window of opportunity where I can sneak away. Or for Alessia to make a mistake, like leaving her phone lying around.
Something will eventually happen. They will underestimate this puttanella and then I will run.
I am slicing a peach in the kitchen when the front door opens. Marco comes in, trailed by three of his men. Unlike Marcello, Marco never wears a suit, at least that I have seen. He is always in tight designer shirts and jeans or trousers, like a Hollywood movie star on vacation. “Good afternoon, Elsa. I would like a word with you.”
The peach turns to ash in my mouth and I watch him warily as I swallow. “Sure.”
Marco sits on a stool at the kitchen bar and snags a piece of peach off my plate. I don’t like how his eyes traveled my body as he chews. He asks, “How do you like my beach house?”
“As prisons go, it’s nice.”
“Thank you. I would say you can thank Marcello for it, but he doesn’t seem to be in the chatting mood lately.”
Thank Marcello for allowing Marco to kidnap me? Hell would freeze over first. “I told you he doesn’t care about me.” My stomach twists on the thought. Deep down in me, I doubt my own thoughts. But he just gave Marco the permission to kidnap me, even though that makes absolutely no sense. He hasn’t said or done anything for the last five days. I have been here Wonder what is going on in his mind.
Marco must have demanded too much. I am just Marcello’s hook up. I am not worth that much to him. He will easily get a replacement for me. Why would he even bother? Lucia is always there and ready for him.
Marco does not comment on this. “Has my Alessia been taking good care of you?”
“I suppose, but if you’re taking requests I’d like a phone.”
His lips twitch. “Strange we’ve not heard from Marcello, don’t you think?”
Not strange to me. I think I know Marcello now better than anyone, and Marcello never says what he doesn’t mean. He is through with me. I try to sound braver than I feel. “You should let me go.”
“Or perhaps I should send him a reminder.”
I grip the marble counter so hard my fingers turn white. Is this where he cuts off one of my toes and delivers it to Marcello? I push the peach away, appetite forgotten. “That’s a waste of your time.”
“I don’t agree.” His gaze is shrewd. “I think he will mind very, very much.”
I really like having all five toes attached to my foot.
“Amore mio” Alessia exclaims, bounding into the room with a bright smile on her face.
He turns and opens his arms, and she comes quickly, sliding between his thighs to press a deep kiss on his mouth. When they part, he whispers to her and she nods before disappearing again. My stomach sinks. Whatever he is planning must be truly terrible if he doedn’t want her to see it.
“Listen, Marco. Signore Rossi. There’s no reason to bother yourself with me. I’m sure you have better things to do. Let me go and we’ll forget any of this ever happened.”
He grins at me. “You must have driven him crazy. I can see why he was staring at you like a starving wolf that day on the yacht.”
That trip seems like a lifetime ago. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it doesn’t matter. Marcello and I are through.” The words taste like tar on my tongue, but I have to make myself believe them. I was fooled when he kept on declaring that my safety was his first priority and he would never let me go away from him. I believed all that shit even though I never showed it to him. It hurts more than a fresh burn because I had fallen so deep in love with him, I had no sense left in my head.
Alessia returns, a long rope dangling from her fingertips. Oh, shit. I start to back up as Marco stands. Except I am trapped by kitchen cabinetry and stainless steel appliances. I will need to sprint past them both and hope for the best.
It is now or never.
In a blink, I take off. I dart around the island and run toward the sliding glass doors that leads to the beach. No one tries to stop me, so I keep going. My feet slap onto the wooden deck-and that’s when I see two guards emerge from either side of the house, their guns drawn and pointed at my head. I hesitate. Would they actually shoot me? I am not certain I can risk it.