again, though he completely avoided looking at me, even when he un-cuffed me and told me to take my turn, that we were leaving.
He was all no-nonsense that morning, tossing all the food into the garbage, looking out the window, binding me, duct taping me again, checking outside one more time then dragging me outside and throwing me inside the trunk.
It was the only time I would say he was truly rough with me, my head whacking a bit off the outside of the trunk as I was pushed inside, hands shoving me into the depths, then nearly catching my foot in the door as he slammed it.
From there, it was just a lot of rolling around, trying to kick out my legs in such a way as to prevent me from slamming into the carpet-covered hard edges.
Time stood still.
It could have been minutes or hours.
My best bet was on hours.
The car stopped twice.
Once, it seemed, to get gas.
Another, I wasn't sure, but the car idled and Lorenzo cranked the music higher before the door slammed, seemingly leaving me for a few moments.
But with my arms bound behind my back, I was effectively useless.
Lorenzo got back in the car, the music turned lower, and we were moving one again.
Again, I lost track of time, but was pretty sure hours were passing before we idled again, before the music went deafening, before the door slammed and I was sure Lorenzo was leaving me on my own.
This time, I wiggled, hoping that I could get the car moving, could draw attention to me. I couldn't seem to get the position myself right to kick out the taillights, and even if I could, I didn't think I could get my hand out the opening, so the best bet was to make the car move enough that no one would confuse it for the bass in the music.
All I seemed to accomplish was tiring myself out, because before too long, the door was slamming and the car was peeling away again.
At some point, I was pretty sure I started dozing off, the soft rumble of the car on a road without many stops seemed to soothe me like it was known to do for small babies.
But then we were stopping once more.
For the final time.
I knew it because the engine actually cut, then the trunk popped and I was face-to-face with Lorenzo again for what felt like the first time in days.
"Long day," he agreed, seeming to read the exhaustion on my face as he reached in the trunk, gently grabbing my arm, helping pull me out.
We were in some kind of underground parking, but any hopes of being seen were immediately dashed.
We were alone.
Once I was out, Lorenzo shrugged out of his suit jacket, wrapping it around my shoulders. I thought it was an almost sweet gesture at first until I saw him buttoning it up, caching me—and my bound wrists—inside.
Then he was swooping low, scooping me up, and tucking my face into his chest, holding it there a bit awkwardly with the arm that was around my back and shoulder, blocking the fact that I was duct taped from view as he carried me in through a back door, then toward an elevator, not releasing me until the doors slid closed.
Then, surprisingly, he put me down, taking off the jacket, taking off the cuffs, and peeling off the duct tape.
"Private elevator," he told me, smirking a little at my scrunched brows. "This is it. The bound and gagged shit is over. You can get a pretty free run from here on out. Except maybe I will make sure all the knives and heavy items are stashed away," he said, reaching up to touch the side of his jaw and ear where I'd struck him with the whiskey bottle.
"So, what? I'm a house guest?" I asked, watching as he held back a smile. "What?"
"Nothing, kid. Just an interesting choice of words, is all. Yeah, go ahead and think of yourself as a house guest."
"One who can't leave," I specified.
"Obviously. And there will always be someone around to make sure that can't happen. But other than that, no more locking you up or taping your mouth shut."
"To what end?" I asked, shaking my head.
"Until your father pays what he owes," Lorenzo said, shrugging, stepping out onto the floor as the doors dinged and opened.
Because, of course, private elevators always led to penthouse residences.
There would be no hallway.
No prying eyes.
No way out.
It was a beautiful