Page 42 of Taken By the Mobster

Ruth pointed to a closed door. “Bathroom is over there.”

Olivia nodded. “I know. This was, uh, my room, a long time ago. Three years ago.” She cleared her throat and rubbed her forehead. “I’m back where I started.”

Olivia hated this room: it was huge, opulent, and ostentatious. An enormous four-poster bed dominated one end of the room, covered in decadent linens and silk throw pillows. The room was full of furniture, crowded with too much in her opinion, despite the size of the room. They set up the center of the room as a seating area with a chaise lounge, two chairs, and a table. Next to the door was a sofa, an ottoman, and two more chairs. A fire roared in the fireplace on one side of the room, the logs snapping and crackling, heat pouring from it. Just being back here made her want to crawl out of her skin.

Ruth cleared her throat. “You go take a shower. I’ll make you some tea.”

Olivia sat on the edge of the bed until Ruth left, closing and locking the door behind her. She rose to her feet, wobbling unsteadily, her head aching with every step. It was like someone was using her head as a bass drum. She held onto the edge of the bed for a second before she crossed the room and opened the top drawer of the dresser.

Inside were her bras, underwear, and socks, things she left behind when she escaped the compound. She slammed the drawer and opened the one below it. More of her clothes.

“Dammit,” she muttered. She yanked clean clothes out of the drawer and went into the bathroom.

Brand new toiletries were on the bathroom counter. It was like she’d never left.

Olivia stopped in front of the mirror. A line of dried blood ran from her temple, down her cheek to her chin. She had a large lump an inch above her temple, purple and tender to the touch. She tipped her head back and gazed at her chin in the mirror, noting the bruise that had bloomed on the lower half of her face.

Olivia hated to use anything that Clyde Braniff left for her, but she couldn’t stand another minute smelling like the trunk of a car. She rushed through her shower and got dressed. While she was braiding her hair, the door opened, and Ruth entered with a tray. She set it on a low table between two chairs in the center of the room.

“I brought you tea, food, and some aspirin. You should get some rest. If you need anything, knock on the door, and the boys will get me.” Ruth turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Ruth stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She looked back over her shoulder. “Yes, dearie?”

“What’s going to happen to me?” Olivia asked.

“Well, I think that depends on Declan, don’t you?” She winked, opened the door, and left.

As the door closed behind Ruth, Olivia glimpsed two men outside. She didn’t recognize either of them. The taller of the two turned to look at her, giving her a suggestive, lewd grin as the door swung closed.

Olivia couldn’t sleep. She wished she could because when she slept, she dreamed. Her dreams were about Declan touching her, kissing her, holding her, making her feel everything she forgot she could feel. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Instead, she lay in the dark room, staring at the ceiling. The only light came from the embers in the fireplace. Men guarded her room constantly, rotating every few hours, and they had locked every door and window in the room.

Every time the door opened, she expected to see Clyde. When she lived in the Muldoon compound three years earlier, visits from Clyde had been a nightly experience. The first time he had come to her room, she thought they could talk, get to know each other. She had been so wrong.

Clyde stepped into the room, closed the door, and leaned against it. He reached back and locked the door. His smile seemed friendly.

“Hello, Olivia,” he crooned.

She gave him an uneasy half-smile. “Hi,” she whispered.

Clyde took a step closer. “I thought we could spend some time getting to know each other.”

Olivia nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Clyde stalked across the room. He took hold of her wrist, dragged her from the chair she was sitting in to her feet, and yanked her close. His mouth closed over hers, his tongue stabbing at her tight lips. His arm snaked around her waist, slid up her back, and into her hair. He tangled his fingers in it and tugged, pulling it so hard she let out a startled squeak.

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Open your mouth, Olivia.”

She shook her head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Clyde rolled his eyes. “This isn’t some sweet, get-to-know-each-other-before-we-get-married moment, Ms. O’Reilly. I honestly have no interest in a relationship with you. As far as I’m concerned, you are a tool to get me what I want. My uncle’s money. Which I can’t have without an heir. You will give me an heir. And maybe some fun while we’re at it.”

“That doesn’t sound fun to me.” Olivia tried to pull away, but Clyde tightened his grip on her. “Let me go.”

“No.” He shoved her backward onto the bed and descended on her.

---