TommasoThe second I closed the bathroom door behind me, the handcuff chain I left lying on the bed to alert me if she got up rattled.Dumb. She clearly didn’t trust me, no matter how many times I told her the truth. Better to find out here than in the airport.I sprang out of the bathroom and grabbed her just as she wrenched the suite door open. She glared back at me, the fire I remembered from her Polaroid burning bright in her dark eyes.“You lied,” she said.“No.” I pulled her back inside. “I went to the bathroom.”“It was a fucking test.” She squirmed in my grip. “That’s not trusting me.”I shut the door. “If you’d stayed put, I would’ve. You lied to me first.”She lapsed into furious silence while I chained her to the bed again.I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Once we get to Philly, I’ll take these off. For now, you’ve left me no other choice.”She rolled her eyes.The haunting rhythm of the five o’clock call to prayer began outside. I walked to the window and stared out over t
PaigeI crossed my legs on the hotel bed, and for the first time in five months, denim scraped against my skin. None of the bastards let me wear pants—when they let me wear anything at all. Between that, the snacks, and the totally private shower, I watched Tommaso pack up the room with a little less of a glare than I had an hour ago.My stomach grumbled, and he glanced at me. There was something in his eyes, around his mouth, that implied a smile. It would be hard not to notice that he was handsome. His soft green eyes balanced out the sharpness of his jaw and his bushy eyebrows. None of the other bastards had spent so long with me and not used me. Tommaso had barely touched me, other than all the time he’d spent dragging me around.I ripped my eyes away from him and looked back at the bedspread. Stupid. He was a bastard, just like the rest, and I needed to focus on myself. Despite the snacks I’d crammed down my gullet, I was still hungry. A perfect cheesesteak appeared in my mind’s
TommasoI dropped into my seat next to Paige and breathed a sigh of relief. We’d made it through the airport. They’d checked my M9, but Marshal Evans wouldn’t complain, so I didn’t either. Now that Paige was sitting next to me, I knew I wouldn’t need it anyway. It was all part of the ruse, and they’d believed it.We couldn’t get first-class seats, but even here in business, Paige and I had the row to ourselves. I stretched my legs out as much as I could—never enough room on these damn things—and I glanced at her. The early morning sun cupped her profile. She’d tied her long hair back in a ponytail, allowing the rays to shine over her jagged cheekbones and the dark circles under her eyes. She might have had a few damaged petals, but this delicate flower was still stunning. Even ignoring me or seconds away from biting my head off, I enjoyed being around her.“Do you need help setting up a movie or something?” I asked.She shook her head and stared out the window. Right. I could take a h
Paige“Stop crying,” the bastard snapped. “Or I’ll give you something to really cry about.”A whip cracked through the freezing air, and just before it was about to land on my naked skin, I woke up.The world of the dream melted away even with my eyes still closed. A soft blanket was wrapped over my legs, and a pillow was warm and soft under my cheek. I would probably have to be up for work in a few minutes, but first, I had to figure out where that wonderful smell of cinnamon was coming from.Wait. Cinnamon?I opened my eyes, and everything came rushing back to me. I didn’t have a job anymore. I’d spent the last five months in captivity. That dream had been a memory. And I’d fallen asleep on the shoulder of the bastard who’d most recently bought me.I shot up and rubbed my cheek. The bumpy weave of his polo indented my skin, a sure sign I’d been asleep for a while. Hopefully, that would cover the heat rising to my cheeks. Shame was a four-letter word to me now, but I still felt stupi
Paige“Paige!” My mom leapt out of the wide front door of Tommaso’s house, tears dragging mascara streaks down her face.“Mom!” How could she be here? I didn’t care. I took a step to run toward her, and the cuff still around my wrist held me back.“Shit. One moment.” Tommaso pulled the key out of his pocket, unlocked my cuff, and waved me forward.I took one step up the stairs, and Mom hit me like a linebacker. Her warm arms wrapped around my waist, thin but strong. I stumbled back down, thankful that she was even shorter than me. The air filled with the same floral perfume she’d been wearing for as long as I could remember.I sobbed.“I’m so sorry, partridge,” she whispered. “I’ve been looking for you all this time, trying to get you back. I missed you so much.”The nickname made me cry even harder. It wasn’t just a childhood nickname. It was Dad’s nickname for me.He started using it after a preschool teacher reported that I sang so much in class that it distracted the other student
PaigeSera Bianchi was all grown up. Her brown hair was just as long as I remembered it from when we were kids. She used to brag that she could sit on hers when no one else could, but now it flowed down her back in a complex lattice of braids. Her day dress—God, how long had it been since I knew anyone who wore anything as ridiculous as a day dress?—shimmered in the light pouring in through the windows in the living room, highlighting her skin.Then, I realized she had her arm through Killian Ricci’s. Of fucking course. From one totally lethal mafia don to the next. Whatever would keep her in the lap of luxury.On the rare occasions I came over to the Bianchi mansion to play, she was exactly the same. She had a whole playroom, painted soft pink and covered in windows, but as a kid, I only cared about the fact that she had every toy I’d ever even heard about. No matter the toy, the line of dolls, or the board game, Sera shared freely until it got to the very best stuff, or the stuff sh
TommasoI paced back and forth in the main sitting room in the guest wing, trying to enjoy the sweeping Byzantine arches I’d requested instead of worrying about what was going on the bedroom down the hall. Dr. Martinez had told me on the way in that she thought a private area would be important for the check-up, but that she didn’t think it should be the bedroom Paige would be sleeping in long-term so as not to form immediate bad memories. I’d sent her all the way down the hall, as far from the guestroom with the kitchenette as I could manage, had Olivia show Natalia the kitchen so they could talk through Paige’s favorite foods, and immediately posted up here with my scotch. It sat, untouched, on a mosaic coffee table. I couldn’t risk letting my guard down with Paige in my house for the very first time.I wanted to be excited to be home, wanted to run around seeing how all my designs turned out, but my every thought bent toward her and what nightmares Dr. Martinez might be uncovering.
PaigeI sat on the end of a queen-sized bed in a room I was told was mine. The lingering scent of fresh paint in the air reminded me this room was new like the rest of the house. Instead of one big window, it had a lot of tall, thin windows with arched tops separated by pieces of metal that looked almost like the columns outside. A mural of the sky at different times of the day covered the ceiling, and the light slanted in right on the afternoon section, like the ceiling itself was some kind of clock. The sheets under my fingers were softer than I’d felt in months, maybe ever, and clean. I changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans from a duffel bag Mom had brought from home, though I had to belt the jeans, and the shirt hung loose. And still, I couldn’t stop looking at those thin windows and wondering if I could wriggle out of them.I stood up and walked over to the windows. From here, I had a spectacular view of the huge, meticulously landscaped yard. It even looked like Tommaso