Page 29 of Bianchi

Is it too early for Stockholm Syndrome to kick in? I don’t have that. Jeez. So what if he held me in his arms and soothed away my nightmare? He’s still a cold-blooded killer and the reason I’m here and having bad dreams in the first place.

Movement near the edge of the tree line draws my attention. Two men with guns pass each other as they patrol the perimeter. A sharp tightness shoots through my chest. There one moment and gone the next.

Falling back into the chair, I’m hit with the scent of his woodsy cologne. It crowds me, cementing the fact that nothing will ever be the same. Even if I make it out of here alive, I’ll be intrinsically changed, untrusting of anyone and everyone. My fate rests in the hands of a man who has made threats to kill me, and yet, no matter how much I don’t want to, I can do nothing but surrender to him.

A knock sounds at the door, and I stand, instantly on guard for whoever may be on the other side. I soothe my hands down the front of Romeo’s T-shirt, wishing I’d had the forethought to find a weapon. For some reason, I feel more exposed up here than I did in the basement.

I watch intently as the handle turns and the door is pushed open. Daniele stops mid-stride, averting his eyes when he says, “You’re awake.”

Nodding, I twist my fingers together before forcing my hands to my side. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken and the act feels foreign when I stutter, “Y-y-yes.”

He points toward the door he hasn’t taken his eyes off of. “I?—”

I cut him off. “What time is it?”

“Four-thirty.”

Daniele has been nothing but gracious since I was taken. Maybe it’s naïve of me, but I don’t think he’d hurt me and so I think nothing of following him into another room. Besides, I have questions and he has the answers.

Daniele opens the door to what I now realize is the closet and I come to stop on the threshold. He pulls open a drawer, and I ask, “How long have I been asleep?”

He lifts a shoulder, pulling open another and moving around its contents. Over his shoulder, he replies, “I think it’s been something like thirteen hours.”

My eyes widen. What? How is that even possible?

I look around, my gaze landing on the bedroom door that’s been left wide open. Gnawing on my bottom lip, I consider running for all of two seconds. The armed guards I saw outside shut down any idea I might have of making a break for it. And anyway, this is probably a test. Someone could be waiting in the hallway, eager to take me out.

Within seconds of me dismissing the idea to run, Daniele hands me a folded item of clothing. “Put them on. Romeo doesn’t want you walking around the house half dressed.”

Affording me some privacy, he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I wait for a moment, listening intently for the sound of a key turning in the lock, but it never comes.

I spring into action, a fluttering in my stomach as I hold up a pair of soft, black sweats.

Quickly, I gather up one leg, stepping into it before I do the same with the other. Yards of material pool at my ankles and I hold the waistband to keep them from falling down.

Great.

It’ll be more embarrassing to have them fall down than to not wear them at all, but who am I to go against Romeo’s demands? With the hem of the T-shirt in my mouth, I pull on the drawstring before rolling the waistband down. When I let go, they slip down, riding low on my hips before I give up.

Darting into the bathroom, I come to a stop in front of the mirror. My reflection taunts me, reminding me of my lack of proper nutrition and self-care. Not wanting to dwell on it, I look away, splashing some warm water on my face and running some toothpaste around my teeth. Finger-combing my hair, I wince as I tug on the knots that have formed, wishing I’d asked for a brush instead of paper and pencils.

My shoulders slump, and my arms fall to my side. Who am I preening myself for? It sure as hell shouldn’t be for any man in this house. They should see the mess I am in all its glory because if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t look like this.

Blowing out a breath, I roll my eyes and walk out of the bathroom. I hesitate for a second before straightening my spine and marching across the room to the bedroom door.

Pulling it open, I’m greeted by Daniele as he stands with a wide-legged stance, scrolling on his phone. He lifts his head and straightens before waving his arm for me to go ahead of him.

“Would it be possible for you to bring me some more drawing paper? And a hairbrush?” I ask as we start to walk.

“You’ve used the pad already?”

Chancing a glance at him as we approach the top of the stairs, I reply, “Yes.”

Daniele’s nostrils flare a fraction, but he doesn’t say anything, only nodding as we continue down the stairs.

When we reach the bottom, I turn right, heading for the basement. It might be a journey I’ve only made twice, but I know my place and I know sleeping upstairs was a one-off.

Daniele cups my elbow, and my eyes bore into his fingers as they grip me and he steers me to the left. I blink up at him, my brow furrowed and a question on the tip of my tongue, but he shakes his head and continues moving us forward. What is it with these men and shutting me down?

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