Page 6 of The Mob Boss' Pet

“And if I say it has to happen here?” he asks, sounding mildly curious.

I stare at him. If he wants me to piss right here on the floor what’s stopping him? I’m not exactly in the position to be making demands, but my full bladder is giving me more bravery than I actually possess.

“I need to use the washroom,” I repeat. Whatever game he wants to play, I’m not up for it right now.

He narrows his eyes on me, inspecting me. “You’re a doctor?”

“Yes.” I nod. “But I don’t need a medical degree to tell you the bladder can only hold so much fluid before it releases all on its own.”

The right corner of his lips twitches. “You’re the doctor that fixed up my brother,” he continues.

I’m ready to pee on his fancy shoes if he doesn’t let me get to a bathroom. As much as the idea tickles me, I’m sure there will be a consequence for such an action. And I happen to like having all of my teeth.

“Yes, now please. I need the bathroom.” I step toward him again.

He tilts his head to the side. “Well, since you’ve remembered your manners. Right this way.” He turns from the doorway and I follow him down the hall.

I hurry my steps to keep up with his wide stride past other rooms. Are there any more prisoners down here?

He shows me to a small powder room and opens the door for me. I rush inside and grab the doorknob to pull it shut, but he’s not letting go of the other side. “Go on.” He jerks his head toward the toilet.

“Let me close the door.” I tug harder on the door.

He stares at me like he didn’t hear a word I said.

I sigh. “Please. Please let me close the door.”

He nods. “Sure, but not all the way.” He pulls my hand off the knob and waves me inside before shutting the door enough that he can’t see me, but he most definitely will hear everything.

My body reacts to being so close to relief that I let him have his little victory. He wants to tug for power every other sentence, fine with me. At least I’m not peeing my pants.

There’s a small sink with a bar of soap sitting on the white porcelain beside the handles. I grab it and wash up. Of course, there’s no towel.

I push the door open with my foot, shaking my hands out at my sides.

He looks down at my hands.

“This way.” He curls his finger and beckons me to follow him to the staircase at the end of the hall. At least he’s not taking me back to the dusty cell.

“Your guys took my purse and my things. I need them back,” I say to his back as we climb up the stairs to the main floor of the house. What little of it I saw as I was dragged through it to the basement was well kept and elegantly decorated. Much fancier than my one-bedroom apartment filled with Ikea internet orders.

“No, you don’t,” he says and holds the door for me at the top of the stairs.

“I need my keys, my wallet. My hospital badges.” I say, stopping once I’m out of the basement.

He levels me with a hard stare. I bet men back down when he gives them that look. I sure as hell want to, I’d like to take three steps back and run away from him, from this house. But I don’t know exactly where I am, and I need my stuff.

“You don’t need those things because you aren’t leaving yet,” he answers me. “This way.” He points down the hall toward another set of stairs. “I’ll show you to your room.”

“My room?” I don’t move. “No.” I shake my head. “I’m not staying here.” I won’t. I can’t. I have a life to get back to. “Look. I fixed up your guy, he’ll be fine so long as you keep his wounds clean and he doesn’t get infected.”

He turns around when he realizes I’m not following him, and his glare darkens. I swallow back the involuntary whimper and somehow manage to stand my ground. I can’t back down. If he senses how terrified I actually am, he can use it against me.

“What did you say?” he asks, but I know he heard me. Maybe he’s giving me a chance to change my mind and just follow him.

“I said I’m not staying.”

“What’s your name?” He walks back to me, stopping when he’s just an arm’s length away.

---