and very white, barren walls. I have never seen a room this void of color. If I didn’t know better, I would think he designed this place to perform surgery. However, the 800 thread count Egyptian cotton begs to differ.
“You will be instructed tomorrow with the plans.”
He then steps out and closes the door behind him.
I wait for him to lock it. My mind references every fairy tale, but then I realize there is no need when nothing happens.
He doesn’t need to lock the doors. He doesn’t need to forbid me to leave.
I have no place to go, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be safe.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be safe.
With a deep inhale, I lock the door and make my way farther into the room.
I noticed on the right side is another door, so I swing it open to find the bathroom. It’s fully stocked, and I wonder if it’s stocked for me?
I grab a toothbrush and some toothpaste and brush my teeth, and then once I’m done, I wash my face.
When I step back into the room, I finally notice that whoever took my bag earlier must have already swept it for bugs because it now sits on top of the chair in the corner.
The blood in my veins runs cold.
The message is clear . . . a lock won’t keep me safe. Not wanting to think about it, I’m quick to get out of my clothes and put my pajamas on.
I can barely keep my eyes open after the day I’ve had. I’m so tired, I go to sit down in the bed. But as much as I want to fall asleep, I don’t know if I’ll be able to.
An endless loop plays in my brain.
What will tomorrow bring?
The harder and more depressing question being, what will my future bring?
Now lying on my soft bed, nestled in big fluffy pillows, I know I should be sleeping. I’ll need all my strength for tomorrow, but instead, a thought pops into my head . . .
What will my father do when he finds out I betrayed him?
What will marrying Matteo entail?
Did I make the right choice?
Did I really have any choice at all?
I toss and turn, both thoughts at war with each other.
The question is, which enemy is scarier?
Something tells me it’s my husband-to-be.
5
Matteo
* * *
I wake early the next morning. The building is quiet, and the floor on which I reside is completely empty. I doubt Viviana is awake yet.
Once I head downstairs, I will be met with a team of my men who have yet to sleep.
With the war with my cousin escalating, we spend more time than I wish in the warehouse.
A full team is always on guard.
I know he doesn’t know about this location, so it’s not like he will launch an attack, but still, I like to be prepared.
I don’t bother waiting for the elevator today. Without Viviana, there is no point in taking it. Instead, I head for the stairs, figuring it will be faster.
When I make it to the bottom floor, I find five men in the main room. Two of which are sitting in front of multiple computer monitors, manning the security system.
The other two are sitting around one table and Lorenzo sits at the other by himself. It might appear they aren’t working, but they are. Their guns are always drawn, ready for a fight.
Each man reclines in their chair, coffee in front of them, and beside each of their mugs is a walkie-talkie for when they do a perimeter check.
“Hey, Boss,” Lorenzo says, as I take a seat at the table.
It’s early still, and I haven’t had my own coffee, so I reach for the pot and pour myself some. “Where are we at today?” I ask the room. “Anything on the girl? Does her father know she’s gone?”
“No one has come to her apartment,” Luka answers from where he is perched in front of a computer.
“Very good. Let’s hope this is all behind us before they even realize it.”
“Boss?”
I look over at Lorenzo. His brow is furrowed. It’s obvious from the way he looks down rather quickly to his cup and then back at me, he doesn’t want to say what he is about to say. I move my chair until it’s next to his. That way, whatever he needs to say can be said between us.
“Spit it out, Lorenzo.”
“I understand why you took the girl . . . but why marry her?”
“It’s the best