Page 1 of The Counterfeit Lover

ONE

NOELLE

"I'm going crazy,"I whisper as I lean back, staring at the ceiling.

The baggy gym suit I'm wearing is barely warm enough to keep me from shivering. That in itself is a luxury, since at some point I'd thought Michele would keep me naked to freeze to death here.

He hadn't. Instead, he'd barely spared me any attention at all.

None of his actions have made any sense so far, though. He's an enigma I can't decipher. I know what Raf and Cisco told me about him, yet the more information I glean, the more confused I become.

When he'd asked me to strip for the photo he wanted to send to Raf, he'd done his best to avoid glancing at me, almost as if he was disgusted by my naked skin. It hadn't been the first time either, since he'd done a similar thing at the piano recital when he'd ordered me to cover myself, looking away until I'd done so.

For all his attempts at tricking Raf into thinking he raped me, he never once touched me—not even in a clinical fashion. If I were to further speculate, I'd go as far as to say he's thoroughly disgusted by touch, the corner of his mouth curling down every time his hand made contact with my flesh—even with those gloves he usually wears.

Andthatis just plain odd.

The Michele Raf had told me about was an unrepentant fuckboy, going through the female population like one goes through socks. But then, he'd also described him as restless, drug riddled and extremely volatile.

The Michele I'd met? None of those things.

His light eyes seem to catch every single detail in the room, his manner calm and collected. And when he looks at you, there's this unmistakable feeling that he knowsexactlywhat you're thinking—and is already three steps ahead of you.

Maybe that's why we've been on the losing side from the beginning. Because Raf hasneverknown the real Michele.

The truth is that he is scary—too scary, one might say.

There's a coldness that emanates from every pore in his body, and it's not because of his highly rational manner. He behaves as if he hasnoemotions whatsoever.

Andthatis where the danger lies.

No emotions means I have absolutely no sway over him. Neither my tears, nor my pleas will help my case, which means I need to get to his level if I have any hope of getting out of here alive.

I still don't know what he plans to do, especially since he's delayed his plans significantly. Otherwise, why keep me here? To torture me? To torture Raf with my absence?

For all his divided heart, Raf cares about me, and will undoubtedly walk right into Michele's trap.

Bringing my hands to my face, I scrub my eyes in an attempt to get myself to focus. I can't lose it. Not now…

I have no idea how many days have passed already.

The windowless room I'm stuck in doesn't give any indication of the passage of time. If anything, it contributes further to my growing mental instability.

Maybe that was his purpose all along—get me alone with my thoughts so I can end up killing myself with myownhands.

Aside from the picture he'd taken of me naked and with that white paint over my body, he's only visited me a couple of times—both barely brief enough to get a good look at me.

Does he really expect me to kill myself?

I roll my eyes at that thought. It's not as if I had anything with which to achieve that.

My meals are delivered by one of his men who waits for me to eat, watching carefully, before taking everything away. He always does an inventory of the cutlery to make sure I'm not stealing anything sharp.

As it stands, I doubt I could cause myself bodily harm.

To my psyche though… Well, that's another issue altogether.

I'd already been in a bad state of mind before Michele had conveniently decided to kidnap me. Now, I'm just forced to face everything I'd tried to hold down for the longest time.

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