Chapter 5 Untitled Chapter

Carmella woke to sunlight.

She didn't recognize where she was. Her mind was foggy. Her body heavy. She blinked against the light.

Then she tried to move.

Her limbs felt weak. Her head throbbed. She turned her head and realized she was on a bed. A massive bed with lilac sheets that smelled like lavender.

Carmella shot up. Her chest beating fast.

Her head reeled. She gripped the sheets, breathing hard. The room was huge and luxurious with high ceilings. A chandelier that cost more than she'd make in a lifetime.

This wasn't her apartment.

Her hand went to her neck. The spot where the needle went in was sore.

He drugged me. That fucking bastard drugged me.

She was furious.

She swung her legs over and stood too fast. The room tilted, she forced herself to stay up.

She was still in her club outfit. A black lace bra and thin panties.

Her eyes scanned the room. The door had no handle on the inside. It was probably  locked from the outside.

The windows.

She ran over and grabbed the bars. They didn't budge. Solid iron. She shook them with all her strength. Nothing.

"You have got to be kidding me," she muttered.

She ran to the door and slammed her fists against it. 

"Let me out!" she screamed. "Open this fucking door!"

She threw her body against it. The door didn't shake. She did it again. And again. Her shoulder would bruise, but she didn't care.

"I know you can hear me! Let me out, you sick bastard!"

Silence.

She kept pounding. Screaming. For an hour. Maybe more.

Finally, her arms gave out. She slumped against the door, chest heaving, sweat dripping down her back.

This isn't over. I'm not done.

She forced herself to move. To explore and find a way out.

The room was beautiful, and that made her angrier. It was a luxury suite. Everything was expensive and thoughtfully arranged.

She found the bathroom. It had marble counters, a massive tub, and bottles of her exact favorite soap and lotion lined the counter. How did he—

She slammed the bathroom door shut.

Then she checked the closet. She expected empty hangers, but it was packed with clothes dozens of them, some in her favorite colors.

She stared at them, disgusted. She slammed the door shut in anger.

"He planned this," she said. "That fucking creep."

She was still pacing when she heard the lock click.

She turned around. Four men stood in the hallway. Just watching her with their arms crossed. Blocking the exit. They didn't move toward her. They just stared.

A middle-aged woman entered. Carrying a tray with food and juice.

The smell hit Carmella's nose. Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since before the club last night.

She looked at the tray. Then at the men in the hallway. Then back at the tray.

She grabbed it and threw it against the wall.

"Get that out of my sight.”

The woman didn't react. She just turned and left. The door closed.

Carmella stared at the mess on the floor. The food looked good. She was starving. But she'd rather starve than accept anything from them.

She sank to the floor, her back against the wall. Pulling her knees to her chest.

She was still there when the lock clicked again.

It was him.

He wore a plain black shirt with black pants. He looked almost normal. But he wasn’t. The way his eyes stayed on her was unnerving.

She didn't move. She just glared at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Go to hell."

He stepped inside. The door stayed open, the four guards standing like iron statues behind him.

She glared at him.

"You drugged me," she said, her fists clenching at her sides.

"I did." Salvatore stepped closer.

Carmella immediately took a step back.

"You were going to fight me," he said calmly. "I didn't want to hurt you. I need you healthy."

"I made sure the dose wasn't too strong," he added, as if that somehow made it better. "You'll only have a headache."

She shook her head. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"Salvatore Morello."

He paused, watching her face for recognition. When she gave none, his eyes darkened with mild amusement.

"And? Am I supposed to know you?"

She didn't know who he was.

He studied her face. "That's why you smiled at me that day in the diner. You had no idea who I was."

"Diner?" She almost laughed, the anger boiling up. "I smiled at everyone. It was my job."

"I know," he said. "You smiled at everyone. I watched you every single time."

She felt a chill. "What are you talking about?"

"I know everything about you." He stepped closer. She backed up until her spine hit the wall. "You're twenty-four. Your father died of cancer eight months ago. I know your mother lives in New York and wants nothing to do with you."

How—"

The words wouldn't come. Her throat was too tight.

"I know you started dancing six months ago," he said smoothly. "Because your father was gone, and you were trying to fill the hole he left."

"Stop it." Her voice was shaking now.

"I know how you take your coffee. Caramel macchiato with extra caramel. I know you use lavender shampoo because it reminds you of your grandmother's garden." He leaned closer, trapping her against the wall. "I know you cry yourself to sleep when you think no one's watching."

She swung her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist easily.

His grip tightened around her wrist, not enough to break skin, but firm enough to pin her completely.

Carmella tried to yank her arm free, her chest heaving, but he didn't budge. He stepped into her personal space, trapping her between the cold wall and his chest.

"Don't," he said.

"You're insane. Completely insane!" She tried to wrench her arm free. "Let go of me!"

"No." His grip tightened around her wrist.

"You're a monster. You think knowing my life gives you some kind of right to steal it?"

"You're mine now."

"I will never be yours."

"You will be." He said it with terrifying certainty, like her fate was already sealed.

She used her free hand to slap him. His head snapped to the side. She braced herself, expecting him to lash out in anger. But Salvatore didn't. He slowly turned his face back to hers, a dark, dangerous spark in his eyes. He didn't look angry. Instead, he looked satisfied. Like her fight was the best part of his day.

"Get off me!" she screamed.

"You're going to hurt yourself." His voice was calm. Infuriatingly calm. "And I don't want that."

She drove her knee into his crotch.

"Cazzo!" He grunted, but he didn't let go.

Carmella slammed her heel onto his foot and sank her teeth deep into his forearm, thrashing with everything she had.

He just held her. Waiting for her to exhaust herself.

When her arms went weak and her chest heaved, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her against his chest.

Slowly, his hand reached up and wrapped around the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pulled her head back just enough to force her eyes to meet his.

"Finished?" he asked.

Carmella tried to spit out a response, but only a ragged gasp escaped her lips.

"Good," he whispered, leaning in until his lips brushed her ear. "Because now you listen to me."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're holding me captive! You drugged me! You—"

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to hold his gaze.

"I will never hurt you," he said, his thumb brushing her cheek. "But I will hurt everyone else. Anyone who looks at you, or touches you."

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

"That's the part you're not understanding. You're not just mine. You're everyone else's death sentence."

She stared at him, rage, fear, and something else she couldn't name warring inside her.

"You're insane," she whispered.

"Maybe." His hand stroking her hair like she was something precious. "But that doesn't change anything."

"Fuck you."

He laughed. "I'm sure you will, eventually."

"I will kill you in your sleep."

"Then I'll die happy." He finally released her wrists and stepped back. "Eat something. Bathe. Get dressed. There are clothes in the closet."

"I'm not wearing anything in that closet."

"Suit yourself." He walked toward the door. "Dinner's in two hours. I expect you to be there."

"Like hell I will."

He paused at the door and turned back.

"You're scared," he said. "Good. You should be."

His eyes swept over her slowly, memorizing every detail.

"But you're going to learn something. I don't give up what's mine. And I've been patient long enough."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

He left. The door clicked shut, leaving Carmella alone in the quiet room.

But this time, she wasn't just angry. She was terrified.

Because some part of her some small, dark part of her believed him.