“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” I try to keep going, but more food is pushed inside my mouth.
By the time the plate is empty, I feel contentedly full. A soft, nervousthank youcomes out of my mouth.
He halts his steps. “Don’t,” he hisses, before he resumes his trip to the kitchen.
I won’t then, asshole.I lie back on the sofa, eyes closed, just listening to Luca moving around. After a while, he sits onthe other side of the couch, and I feel the springs under me stretching to the maximum to accommodate his weight. I turn my head and look his way. He is taking apart his gun. Is he doing it to intimidate me? It’s actually doing the opposite. You’d have to be dead not to be even a little aroused by a hot, half-naked man polishing his weapon—the double entendre is pretty obvious. He’s the same man who slapped me and threatened me, though. It feels perverse to be turned on by my kidnapper, while also extremely steamy. I blame my abusive father for this twisted side of me. Still, this fleeting attraction coincides with my seducing plan, so why not explore it?
I sigh. My nose itches, and I attempt to scratch it, but I can’t reach it unless I fold myself in two.
“My skin needs moisturizer. Can you send one of your men?—”
He cuts me off with a firmno.
I insist. “I have some at my place. Can I go?—”
Another no.
“I told you what you wanted to know,” I remind him. The final date of the wedding, that my father will find a way to fuck Coretti over, probably kill him and make it look like an accident while I’m on my honeymoon or something, and that Mario will reach out to me sooner or later because he is against it, so to hold on to my phone until it happens. Luca assumed that Mario doesn’t want me to get married because I could become more powerful than him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. My half-brother’s motivation is a very different one.
“Now give me something in exchange.”
“You got the apple.” The bastard is fucking with me now. “And I didn’t kill you.”
“You didn’t kill me because your boss ordered you not to!” I let it slip.
He turns a searching glower at me. “Think I’ll trust anything coming out of that lying mouth of yours? I need to double-check everything you said.”
“Then why did you kidnap me, if you don’t trust my info?” I scream with exasperation.
“It’s not for you to know,” he snarls.
I lock my jaw and try to stay mindful about my dire situation. There are things I must let slide, and other things that I can deal with a more aggressive approach. Now, calling him a cold-blooded scumbag definitely falls under the extremely aggressive category.
So, I swallow the curse words and go for something milder.
“The reason why I don’t own a gun is because I would use it on that dark mutant organ inside your chest!”
He snorts at my statement. The one time I see something different than disgust or anger on his face is because he’s screwing with me.
“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart? Stay handcuffed to this sofa and wait for you to kill me?” I yank at the cuffs until I feel my wrists ache.
He shrugs.
Seducing him, my ass. I’m personally going to kill him instead.
“This is not a fucking vacation…babydoll.” He throws the endearment back at me.
I count to ten, silently trying to calm myself.
“If I don’t moisturize, I’m going to get a rash. Plus, I don’t have my vitamins, my clothes, my pet! I need to go to my house and get him. Nacho must feel abandoned right now.” Kind of a lie, he loves the neighbor I leave him with from time to time. But three days is the longest I have.
“Performing your act again?” Luca slides the last piece of his gun in place—the magazine—and then points it at me.
“I know your neighbor, a Miss Fantino, who has your dog. Stop fucking with me.”
Shit! I forgot his lurking activity. “Always with those threats, lovebug, there’s another?—”
“No. More. Nicknames.” His eyes have murdered me already as he lifts the gun to my face.