His Hostage: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) (4 page)

“Because you keep denying yourself. Do us both a favor and stop trying to push me away.” I don’t understand her anger, but at least anger is something I can work with. You need passion to be angry. So I’m gonna fucking run with it. “You’ll forgive me when I’m deep inside that tight pussy of yours. You need this, sweetheart, knock it the fuck off and let me take care of you.”

Her breathing picks up. “I
need
this?” She huffs a humorless laugh. “What I
need
is for you to stop harassing me.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve never seen anyone who needs a real good fuck as much as you do. Tell me you don’t want me. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me to leave, I will. Cross my fucking heart.” I lean forward, daring her to tell me off. I know she wants me, just like I know she needs this. I just hope she doesn’t disappoint me. As she stares into my eyes searching for something, an uncomfortable feeling settles in my chest. She had better not deny me.

“Who do you think you are?” She’s still playing at being offended, but I can tell she wants this. “I’m not some whore.” My jaw clenches at her words. I don’t like that. First a downer and then a whore. She really doesn’t speak highly of herself.

“I never said that, sweetheart. I never even once had that thought. So, are you telling me to leave, or are you ready to get out of here?” Her eyes look back to her computer, breaking my gaze.

She answers with her eyes still on the screen. “I don’t have my car with me.” Her breathy words give me deep satisfaction. I’ve got my sweetheart right where I want her.

“You don’t need one. We can go to the back.” She gapes at me in surprise, but then her eyes widen in anger. “Relax sweetheart, this is my family’s place. No one’s gonna fuck with us here.” Her cheeks flush pink and she turns away from me. Shit, she’s embarrassed. She probably thinks I do this all the time. And I don’t. I’ve never fucked anyone here. But I need to get inside her as soon as fucking possible. She’s so damn indecisive I can’t give her the chance to change her mind.

“No one’s gonna know,” I tell her, as I see her internally debating over what she should do. She should let me help her get this edge off. That’s what she should do.

“Okay.” The desperate word leaves her mouth with a primal need. She stands up and starts putting her things away, but I put my hand over hers to stop her.

“I got it, sweetheart.” I put her shit in her tote as quick as I can and grip the straps in one hand. With my other hand, I take her hand in mine and pull her closer to me as I walk her to the back. I don’t look around as we walk, and I’m glad she isn’t looking around either. The guys may see, but they won’t know for sure what I’m up to. Even if they do, they'd better not say a damn word to her. I won’t let her regret this.

I
hear a loud bang
, then someone yells. The sounds are faint, and distant. What the fuck happened? I try to move my arms, but someone’s holding me down. A small moan escapes from my lips. I'm so sleepy. Why am I so drowsy? I feel groggy as I turn my head slowly from side to side, and then I remember. I remember his mouth on my body. The heat between my legs makes my body want to turn and my thighs clench, but I’m pinned down. A strangled groan leaves me as I try to move my wrists, but I can’t.

“She’s fine.” A distant, masculine voice that I don't recognize has my forehead creasing with confusion.

“If you lay another fucking hand on her, I’ll--” He sounds so angry. Why is he so angry? I struggle to remember. Vince. His handsome face and cocky smile flash before my eyes.
“I’m Vince.”
I hear his words in my head. It feels like a faint memory.

“Calm down. It had to happen, Vince. This is the better alternative. For now, this should work.” I hear a third voice as I start to feel slightly more alert, but I keep my eyes closed.

“I didn’t fucking touch her. It’s a roofie, for Christ's sake. It was either this, or off the broad.”
Roofie.
That word triggers something within me, and makes me move involuntarily.

I try to jackknife off the desk, but someone’s still holding me down. I open my eyes and focus on the man holding me down. I recognize his face. Vince. I struggle against him. His large frame towers over me as his dark eyes search my face. Betrayal hits me hard, and tears prick my eyes. He drugged me. Did he…? I can’t even finish the thought. I struggle to breathe as a sob rips through me.

How did I get here? I’m in an office and it seems vaguely familiar. I shake my head and try to shake the sleep away. How long have I been here? I remember his face, I remember his name, I remember this room. I remember it all, but only in brief flashes. I shake my head again.

“Vince?” I ask in a wary voice. Please let me know him at least. I need to remember something.

“Shit, she remembers,” one voice from over my shoulder says, and then he curses under his breath.

“She won’t remember it all. I promise you this is going to work,” the third voice sounds out with confidence. Remember what?

I turn to my right to avoid looking at Vince. Fear washes over me like ice against my skin. Two large men stare back at me. Their tanned skin is stretched tight across their bulging muscles. One man is much less muscular compared to the other one, but he's still jacked. It's only because he's standing directly next to a guy with a truly beastly physique that he seems even a hair less intimidating than he actually is. Their dark hair and eyes make them a frightening sight. Mostly because they look back at me like I’m a threat. Again I try to move away, but Vince's grip only tightens on my wrists as his forearm digs deeper into my hip. My wrists burn as I continue to struggle.

Their words finally start to register and sink in. I don’t know who they are or why I’m here, but I know they want to kill me. Or did. I open my mouth to scream for help out of pure instinct, but Vince is faster. He covers my mouth with his hand. I take the arm that's suddenly free and push against his hard, unmoving chest in a feeble attempt to push him away. It’s useless.

Vince leans down with his lips barely touching mine. “Don’t fucking do it, sweetheart.” His voice holds a threat that leaves my chest hollow as fear consumes me. Who is this man? The weight of the situation crashes down on me. What the hell did I do? My eyes dart to the other men in the room. I’m surrounded by criminals, predators who’ve drugged me. I close my eyes and try to will away the depressing helplessness. I’m not okay. I’m not going to be okay.

“Get out.” Vince’s hard voice has the two men walking slowly to the door. I concentrate on my breathing and watch them leave.

The larger of the two men looks back at Vince with a hand on the door, standing just inside the room, and holds his gaze. After a moment. Vince says softly, “I’ll let you know if I need you.”

Something about his tone, the somberness of it, sends pricks down my chilled skin.

The second the door shuts, I try again to get out of his grasp.

“Stop struggling.” I hear the dark threat he whispers in my ear through his clenched teeth, but I don’t listen. I can’t listen. I saw those men. I saw the look they gave me, and then the ones they gave him. I’m fucked. I’m so fucked. They’re going to kill me, and I don’t even know why. I need to get the fuck out of here. I try to scream again, and the hot air and spit cover my chin as his hand presses even harder against my mouth.

“I said to stop it!” he yells. His strong arms wrap tighter around my body, and he easily lifts me up and against the wall. My heart beats frantically as I search for a way to escape. Adrenaline rushes through my blood. “Don’t make me gag you.” I hear his threat in my ear as tears streak down my face. I try to calm down, but all my body can do is stay tense. My muscles scream for me to move them. They want me to fight. Everything in me wants to fight. Against a man like Vince, it’s hopeless.

But I can at least beg.

I stay still and try to calm my breath. My chest rises and falls with sporadic hiccups from my sobs. I need to calm the fuck down. I close my eyes and just try to breathe. He won’t hurt me. I need to believe that. I need to believe there’s a way out of this other than death.

As if reading my mind, he says in a calm voice, “It’s going to be alright.” His deep, baritone voice soothes me. It shouldn’t, but it does. I shouldn’t believe him. And yet, I do.

“I’m gonna take my hand away, Elle. And you’re not going to scream.” I attempt to nod, but his grip on me is so tight that I can’t move. His hand slowly pulls back and the cool air makes it painfully obvious that I have spit all over my chin. I want to move my arms, but I’m pinned against the wall.

I turn my head slowly and see his stern expression, daring me to scream. I swallow thickly and I can’t help the need to do just that. I have to try. I won’t be a good little victim for him. I have to try to get the fuck out of here. My body lunges away from him without my conscious consent. The movement makes my head spin.

His large hand tightens around my throat. I struggle to breathe as my feet lift slightly off the ground. His blunt fingernails dig into the back of my neck as he shoves me against the wall. His force stuns me. But even more so, I'm shocked by the dark look in his eyes. It's a deadly look that tells me I shouldn't fuck with him. I'll regret it if I do.

I don’t understand. I’m so confused. I remember glimpses of passion between us. What the fuck happened?

My hands want to reach for my throat. It's a natural instinct as my breathing comes up short. But they’re pinned at my side by Vince's hip and his other hand. My eyes water, and I look back into his gaze to plead with him. I don't want to die. Not like this. Not now.

He leans into me, and the scruff on his cheek rubs against my jaw. His lips are practically touching my ear. "I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart.” His breathing is unnervingly even. He’s calm. Too calm. “I don't want to, but I will. I won't hesitate if you keep this shit up.”

I try to stay still. With everything in me, I try to obey him, but the need to fight against his hold wins out as my vision fades and my throat seems to close.

Just as I think he's really going to end my life and choke me to death, he lets go. My feet stumble against the hard ground and I nearly roll my ankle, heaving air into my lungs. My hands feel around my throat as I land hard on my knees. I let my body sag to the ground and just breathe.

It's only then that I realize I'm crying hysterically. My face is hot and wet from the tears.

I see him bend down, his worn, dark wash jeans just an inch from me and I fall back on my butt and kick away, scrambling backward as fast as I can until I hit the wall. I restrain the scream crawling up my throat and wait as still as I can.

He's still in a squatted position, his hands resting on his knees as he looks back at me as though contemplating what to do with me. The need to fight is suppressed for now. Attempting to run would be useless. All I have left is to try and beg for mercy.

“Please let me go,” I plead with him. My words are slurred. My head spins slightly as I feel the full weight of my body. I’m not okay.

“Not until I know everything you saw.” His words confuse me. I don’t know what he’s talking about.

I shake my head violently. "I didn't see anything."

A cocky smirk graces his lips. "Sorry sweetheart, but lying isn't going to get you anywhere with me. You remembered my name."

“What did you give me?” The question comes out slower than I intend as I move my arms sluggishly and realize my motor function is off. My body heats with anxiety.

“It’s a heavy sleeping pill.” My head shakes.
Liar.

“A roofie?” I ask accusingly. I remember someone saying it earlier. He drugged me. Betrayal washes through my body once again.

“It’s
similar
to Rohypnol.” He doesn’t even have the decency to look away as he admits that they drugged me.

“Why?” I ask, in a small voice that I hope expresses my hurt.

“You saw something after we were in here, and I didn’t have much choice.” His jaw clenches and he faces the wall for a moment before his gaze focuses back on me. “It was the best option at the time.”

“I don’t remember anything, I swear.” My breath and voice both hitch in my throat. If only he’d believe me.

He sighs heavily. “It’s gonna take more than that, Elle.” My lips tremble and my throat dries up.

“What do I have to do?” I ask, my voice shaky.

“You need to come with me.”

“Am I even going to remember this?” The thought occurs to me as I really think about what a roofie does.

“I don’t know,” he answers calmly. “I hope not, 'cause that would really fuck this plan up. You should still be asleep.”

"I won't tell anyone." The words fly out of my mouth. I whisper hoarsely, "I swear to God, I won't." I don’t care that he drugged me; I just want to get the hell out of here.

His eyes are full of remorse. "That's something we just can't risk."

"Who are you?”

He answers easily. "The mob, sweetheart." My blood chills at his confession. "You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." His eyes narrow and turn angry. "You should’ve waited for me." His words have a tone of accusation, but I don’t even know what he’s referring to.

Even with the fear from his threat still hanging over me, I manage to spit out a response in disbelief. "What did I do to deserve this?" I slam my mouth shut at the pissed off look on his face.

"That mouth, sweetheart, that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble."

I close my eyes and pretend it's all a dream. "Please, just let me go," I whisper. After a moment, I open my eyes and find him standing, looking down at me. His broad shoulders and air of power make him the epitome of intimidation and domination. This man owns me. I am completely at his mercy.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am." He presses his lips into a straight line and shakes his head slowly. "But I'm not letting you go."

"What are you going to do with me?" My heart thuds against my chest, yet my lungs seem to freeze as I wait for his answer. He walks around the desk with his back turned to me. The sinewy muscles of his arms ripple with his movements.

He opens a drawer, and my eyes widen as I whimper and shove my body even harder into the wall. I want to look at the door. I want to search for an escape. Instead, my eyes are zeroed in on him, waiting to see what he's pulling out of the desk. I'm assuming it's a gun. I fully expect for him to shoot me.

I don't expect him to pull out thin, twined rope. It's the coarse kind that's used in kitchens. “You're going to listen to me, Elle. And I promise if you do, I'll do everything I can to keep you safe."

A mix of emotions washes over me as he pulls out more rope and wraps it around his wrist. Surprisingly, confusion is one of the strongest ones I'm currently feeling. "Why?" I can't help asking the question. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Vince pauses his movements as his eyes find mine. His cold gaze keeps my eyes locked on his although I desperately want to look away. He responds after a long moment of silence. "Trust me, Elle. It’s better this way." For the briefest second, some sick part of me does trust him. But then I quickly come to my senses.

I don’t trust him. I won’t.