Sookie felt like she was losing her mind.
When she woke up, she encountered the worst hangover in history. It wasn’t just whiskey. It wasn’t just the feeling of being drained and wrung out. It wasn’t the cottonmouth and the soreness in her eyes. It wasn’t the feeling of falling down stairs from the first or fifth floor. It was what had happened last night.
She had even dreamt a violated dream. She had willingly complied, had enjoyed it, but, heavens, the person was the one who had bound her, abused her, and then brought her here.
Her mind hazily recalled the scene from last night-arriving here, her attempt to escape, him grabbing her, and tying her to his bed. She remembered struggling, screaming, and fighting him until she eventually lost all strength.
And yet, she was still alive in the morning. He hadn’t chopped her into pieces.
She surveyed the empty attic, blinked to clear the fog of the hangover, and then turned to catch a glimpse of the dazzling morning light pouring in through the factory’s large windows. She tried to swallow, feeling her mouth dry and foul.
“Good morning.”
The man’s deep, brooding baritone made her gasp for cold air when she turned to see him sitting on a chair by the bed. She couldn’t help but furrow her brow.
She shivered, realizing he had been watching her sleep. She also realized her skirt had almost extended to her damn underwear.
Her arm jerked to pull it down, but she realized she was tied up.
She glared at him. “Did you really have to tie me up?”
“Last night I tried to be accommodating, and then-” Enzo raised his chin and pointed to the table she had knocked over. The lamp had fallen to the ground.
“Some people’s behavior made me feel the need to.”
Sookie choked. She had indeed done some “bad things” last night.
“Well done,” she mocked him expressionlessly. He knew she would resist, he did it on purpose.
“Don’t try again, Sookie.”
She froze, the color draining from her face.
Seemingly seeing her fear, he shrugged and calmly said, “I went through your backpack. Found your student ID, by the way, I’m Enzo.”
Enzo stood up, slowly approached her, and she watched him warily, inching back. But his hand reached for the restraints on her hands, undoing them. His strong fingers touched her, massaging her wrists as if to improve blood flow, but she wriggled, pulling her wrists away from his grasp.
He smirked, his lips curling in a teasing smile.
“So what now, Enzo? You know, if you plan to keep me here, I need food.”
“Yes.”
“Is this planned?”
He glanced at her. “It’s my concern.”
“Do you… do this often?” she forced strength into her voice, swallowing her fear.
“Do what?”
“Bring a lot of girls here, tie them to your bed?”
Enzo smiled, looking directly at her. “Looks like you’re biased.”
Her face reddened. “That’s not what I mean-I mean-”
He raised an eyebrow at her, smiling as if amused by her stammering. “What?”
Her mouth snapped shut, and he laughed. He was toying with her. He enjoyed seeing her like this.
“You know, my family will worry about me. They will come looking for me.”
Enzo nodded.
“People who care about me. Friends, family, teachers, classmates, colleagues, and-”
“Princess,” Enzo suddenly looked at her seriously.
Sookie froze, looking at him in confusion.
“I understand, people like you,” Enzo said.
“Yes, of course they do,” she laughed a bit, then turned her head with a wry smile. “So what do you mean?”
“What I mean is, you’re very likeable.”
“If I hadn’t been tied up by you, I could almost take that as a compliment.”
He smirked, a bitter smile on his lips. “Where are you from?”
“Oh, are we acquainted now?”
“If you wish, we can sit quietly here,” he said calmly. “I can also gag you again.”
Sookie’s face instantly burned. Damn, she hadn’t met someone this shameless before.
Enzo seemed to really enjoy seeing her all flushed and speechless. He tapped his chin lightly and revealed that infuriatingly arrogant smile. “Let me guess. You’re… a college student? What the hell are you studying, liberal arts to save the world’s economy, with a minor in feminist literature?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an ass?” she glared at him.
“Always, darling.”
He took a sip of his coffee, and she looked at it, longing to have a sip. Her hangover and adrenaline crashmade her feel like she was dying.
“Do you want some?”
“No,” she stubbornly turned her head, denying it.
He laughed, knowing that she was just being defiant. “As you wish. So, college student, am I right?”
She was furious, she had nothing to say.
Enzo chuckled. “A college student, using your parents’ money-”
“I pay for myself, thank you.”
“So you are indeed a college student.”
She glared at him, wondering what he was up to.
“But your family isn’t poor.”
“Who said that?”
Enzo smiled faintly. “I know.”
She looked at him, and her eyes quickly found him in the sunlight. His profile was distinct, with a perfect jawline, as if he was a handsome angel walking out of the light. His deep, sharp black eyes, and the tattoos peeking out from his t-shirt’s sleeves and neckline gave him a fierce aura. His muscles were firm and taut, every line perfectly defined through his tight t-shirt.
Her face grew hot and flustered, so she looked away involuntarily.
“I guess you’re from… what, a small town in Idaho?”
She chuckled. “No.”
He tapped his chin again. “Hmm… I can imagine, it must be a nice place. I bet no one locks their doors or cars, they wave to strangers on the street, right?”
She looked down, her thoughts instantly flying to her hometown of Shelter Harbor, north of Boston. A quaint town where no one locked doors or cars, and everyone waved to passersby.
She looked up and saw him grinning.
“So what?” she asked.
“Nothing, just making conversation.”
She fell silent for a minute, then swallowed and turned to him.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked softly.
“I believe you’ll like it more than the alternative.”
She gulped heavily, something crossed his face, and it looked like the alternative was being chopped up in a meat grinder.
“I won’t kill you,” he said gruffly.
“Thanks.”
“That’s what you think, but you don’t know what I think.”
He smiled down at her smugly. “Exactly.”
“In fact, you don’t know anything about me,” she suddenly glared at him. “You think you have me all figured out, but your ideas are all wrong.”
“Are you a college student?”
She furrowed her brows. “No.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, as if not believing her, and then she averted her gaze.
“I’m in grad school, thank you very much,” she said.
He laughed. “Where are you from?”
“Why should I tell you that?” she retorted.
“Are you worried I’ll find you, bring you back to my loft, and tie you up?” he smirked.
Her eyes met his, seeing the pride and smugness on his face. “Oh, by the way, I already did that.”
“Why are you such a jerk?” he asked.
“Why don’t you just answer the question to prove me wrong, princess. Tell me you’re from some damn place like Detroit, and shatter my preconceived notion of you being this perfect little-”
“Fine, I’m from Shelter Harbor,” she interrupted.
He started to laugh. “Damn.”
Yes, she was from the quaintest, most charming seaside town on the coast of Massachusetts. According to an article published a few years back in “Travel and Leisure” magazine, it was the summer city refuge for tourists, the autumn destination for leaf-peepers, and a “New England winter wonderland” in the cold months.
She hailed from the most unhurried, safest, most ordinary town in the world, and for some reason, she hated how right he was about that.
“You’re from that damn sanctuary?” he asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she inquired.
“Where you can take the ferry, eat damn lobster rolls on the docks, and walk around Benjamin Franklin’s old house?” he chuckled. “Of course, that’s your hometown.”
“John Adams,” she corrected.
Enzo frowned. “What?”
“It’s John Adams’ house, not Benjamin Franklin’s,” she said.
Enzo paused, then grinned. Sookie realized he had indeed looked her up.
“Damn. What else do you know?” she exclaimed.
Enzo chuckled as he looked at her. “Like why I could smell gasoline on you last night, or why there’s ash under your nails?”
Sookie swallowed hard, immediately placing her fingers on her lap and fidgeting to hide her nails.
Enzo sighed. “Listen, do you want some coffee or do you prefer to sit there being cranky? By the way, your refusal to have my coffee hasn’t hurt my feelings, princess.”
The hangover was pounding in her head, the caffeine addict inside her screaming at her to shut up and accept what was offered.
“All right,” she relented.
He chuckled. “Good lord, I am from the South, and I’m more polite than that girl from the damn sanctuary. Didn’t they teach you and thank you on the Benjamin Franklin tour?”
“John Adams-never mind. Can I have some coffee?” she grumbled.
“Of course,” he sarcastically bowed. “But listen, Shelter Harbor Lady, I might not have a silver platter to serve you-”
“Screw you,” she retorted.