Page 16 of Twisted Fate

“That doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to—” I break off with a shake of my head, trying to pull free of his hold on my hair. “Let me go.”

That gorgeous, carnal mouth curls in a dangerous smile.

“Not for sixty days,” he says. Then holds out his hand, palm up. “Phone.”

I stare at him, angry, embarrassed, confused. Then I slap my phone against his palm.

He offers a low laugh as he studies my expression. “If this kitten had claws, I’d be bleeding from a dozen places.”

He steps away as if that kiss meant nothing at all, as if he didn’t feel what I felt. Everything about this situation is out of my depth, so I fall back on my old standard and say, “Fuck off.”

“Sleep tight, Alina,” he says with a knowing grin, then turns and leaves without looking back.

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling cold.

For lack of anything else to do, I go to the kitchen and check the fridge. Bottled water. Two cans of soda. No food.

The cupboards are equally bare, except for a tin of smoked oysters, a box of cheddar crackers, and a huge hazelnut milk chocolate bar in gold wrap. I can make a meal out of that.

The wine fridge is fully stocked, as is the bar in the living room. Clearly, Damian has his priorities.

I wander through the rest of the condo. There’s a bedroom and ensuite bathroom at one end of the vast living space and a second bedroom with ensuite at the other. Soaker tub. Walk-in shower. No expense spared. My entire apartment would fit into just one of those bathrooms. The décor in each bedroom is identical, with California king beds, chic side tables, lamps, a dresser, and a small sofa with coffee table. No knick-knacks. No photos. No clothes in the drawers or the huge walk-in closets.

This isn’t Damian’s home. This is a spare location to stash his victims. Or one-night stands.

Or hell, both.

Unfortunately, there are also no phones.

When I come out of the bedroom, I stifle a squeak of surprise.

There’s a good-looking guy sitting on the huge sectional. He’s reading a book. He glances at me.

“Hi there,” he says.

“Hi,” I reply uneasily.

“You’re Alina.”

“That’s…me. Yes. Who are you?”

“I’m Luca.”

I nod slowly. “Luca,” I repeat. “And let me guess. You work for Damian Russo.”

“I prefer to say that I work with him. But, sure. Either works.”

“He’s keeping me here against my will.”

“You’re free to leave whenever you like.”

My eyes widen. “I am?”

Luca puts his book down on his lap so he can gesture toward the door. “I mean, I’ll be accompanying you, but still. Feel free to go for a walk. You’re not a prisoner. You’re Damian’s guest.”

“I’m his guest, am I?” I say with scorn. “Is that what he told you?”

Luca stands up, carelessly tossing the book on the couch. With shock I realize that it’s one of the Harry Potter novels. He notices my scrutiny and shrugs.

---