Lucia - Real Father

I didn't leave it again after being told this was my room. Someone had knocked and brought me food.

Thank you, thoughtful kidnapper, for feeding me.

Other than that one interaction, I had not seen anyone else. I tried leaving, but Door Jockey Steve, as I called him, told me to stay in my room until he got more orders.

I was just grateful the door wasn't locked. I thought it would have been to keep me where the mafia guy wanted me. Now, my friendly, hot-as-hell kidnapper has invited me to breakfast.

I'm no fool, hot kidnapper. Breakfast is a way to make me talk. I won't.

He was interesting, though. I watched his eyes search my body like he was looking for something deep inside my skin and bones and boy, his bone grew.

Laughing, I put my shoes on. Sure, he got hard, but then his eyes fell on the bruises, so I made a witty remark to make him talk and leave. I glance at my jumper. I wore it to hide the bruises, but now, what is the point?

He's seen them. Stepping to the door, I open it. Door Jockey Steve is still there, but so is he. He gives a quick nod to Steve and instructs me to walk forward with his fingers.

Does he instruct everyone without words?

"So, Miss Salvadore, did you sleep well?" His words are full of humour. "That is your name, right?"

"I think you got the DNA mixed up. I've no relatives called Salvadore. As for how I slept...Well, I guess fine, considering I'm held here under arrest for no reason."

He stops and spins to face me.

"There are many reasons. If you say your name isn't Salvadore, enlighten me to prove my tests are wrong. What is your name?" His smile widens.

"Lucia, Lucia Whitlock. So I suggest you get a refund." He doesn't reply; he just continues walking.

"So, while you're here, who will be outside worried for you?"

His words hurt, as in reality, no fucker.

No one, Mr Kidnapper, my father, will be hurt that he can't use me just as my boyfriend will be.

"There is no one who will come looking for me."

He chuckles slightly. "Your mother?"

"Dead." He doesn't stop at my word; he just continues on his path.

"Father?"

"No idea who he is." That isn't a lie.

"Siblings?"

God, is he really going to ask about everyone?

"Dead." He stops slightly at that.

"Boyfriend?" He glances at the ring on my finger.

"Dead, if you must know. My mother died, and within minutes of being told, my sister and boyfriend were shot in front of me."

I see a look of worry and question flash in his eyes.

"Seen as you know my life, can I at least know your name so I don't need to keep calling you Mr Kidnapper in my head?"

He chuckles and opens the door to an outside pool. There is a table set with food that awaits in front of us.

"I'm Marco." He pulls the chair out for me to sit on. I watch as he sits next to me.

"Well, Marco. What is your plan for me?"

He looks at me like he is considering it. Sighing, he pushes the plate of food to me.

"Eat."

"Do you order everyone around?" I smile, watching as his eyes come to my face. "I just wondered, must get tiresome."

"I give orders when required. Please eat, as you hadn't eaten when they took your tray last night."

"So you checked if I ate?" He gives me a tense nod.

"I want to ensure I know everything about you, Lucia, every movement you make. Every breath you take and word you mutter in your sleep."

My face whitens. "You watched me sleep?"

Creep

"I did not need to. If you're worried, no cameras are in your room, but your mumbles were heard outside."

Geeze, thanks, Marco. Now, when I go to sleep, I am going to worry someone is hearing me.

"So, how long will you keep me?" I need to know.

"You have asked enough questions, Lucia. Now it's my turn."

"See, I don't know how to answer questions, as you have learnt." I smile sweetly at him. My eyes follow the movement of his throat as he swallows. His thumb slips into his mouth as he licks the sauce of it.

God, talk about making panties wet, Mr Marco.

"Did you not grow up with a father?" His words cause my eyes to go from his lips to his eyes. Can I jump into them? Is it possible to drown in someone's eyes? His are turquoise. I bite my lip as my eyes flow from his eyes down his jaw.

"Ahm."

Shit, shaking my head, I lean back. I even leant forward.

Damn Lucia, clean your mind.

"Yes, a man was there growing up, but he isn't my father."

"And, where is he?" He sits waiting, but I can't tell him the truth.

"I don't know anymore."

He sighs, almost as if he knows I'm lying.

"When did you find out he wasn't your father?"

"What is your obsession with my father?"

"I'm merely asking. You said no one would be worried for you." He sits back now, looking at me and waiting.

"Just after my mother died. I found out that week."

"Let me take a look at you." His rough hand grips my jaw. "You will be the perfect fucking trophy. I should have known."

My body shudders, his eyes falling on my breast as I try to squirm away. "Known what, Dad?"

"Known that you weren't mind. Now, though, I have a perfect little princess to toy with, kneel."

I stay standing, shuddering. Tears spike in my eyes as I take in his words.

"You're not my dad?" I feel the panic rise within me.

"And what a fucking good turnaround it is, now kneel."

Stepping back, I refuse, my head shaking. Screaming, I fight against his grip on my hair as he pulls me to my knees.

"You will make yourself useful for all the money you cost me over the years."

"Lucia!" I jump, the vision slipping away as Marco looks at me worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, I go to stand and fumble, still unable to breathe right. His hand catches me before I can fall to the floor.

"Take a moment, sit." He pulls me back down. I need to get away from him and his questions. He stays watching me intently.

"The bruises, may I know what caused them?"

I snort at his words. "I walked into a door."

"Your humour does not match your eyes. The truth?"

"I'm clumsy, okay, I fall all the damn time. You might want to wrap bubble wrap around me if you plan to keep me alive."

He rises from the table, his hand grasping my arm lightly. "These are not from that. These are finger marks. See." His fingers go over them.

Intelligent man, what qualification does that knowledge give you?

I stay staring at him. "Maybe the door had hands." He sighs and steps back.

"There will be rules, Lucia. You will eat while you're here. Regardless of your feelings, you need to eat. Someone will come to take your address from you to go and collect some of your items. You can leave that room, but you will always have at least one soldier with you."

My house? Erm, biting my lip, I look at him.

"You're not going to willingly tell us your address, are you?"

My head shakes vigorously.

"That is fine. We can acquire that ourselves."

"Fine, I will tell you." He sits waiting. "You need to go between twelve and six. That is when my housemates aren't home." I can't have him finding out the truth.

"Very well." He reaches into his pocket, taking out a pen and notebook. "Write it down. They will take a look and find your room and bring some of your items."

The way he said 'look' makes me think they will search for the gun.

"You're going to look for the gun, right?" Of course, he is. Why pick up my clothes and not find the gun? Hopefully, they find it, or maybe not. I don't know right now which is better.

"If you get the gun back, can I leave?"

"I have other things to consider, Lucia, so even with the gun, you're not leaving here. I have unanswered questions."

Laughing at his words, I stand. "Like the truth behind my abuse, the bruises? You won't get the answers you crave." Turning, I walk through. Door Jockey Steve follows me back to my room. I don't know how to feel right now.

I'm in this damn fortress mansion that has more rooms than most schools, more than likely. He's not hurting me, but he wants to know things he has no right to know.

So, I don't know what to think. I don’t know how to feel or what my next step should be. My day is spent hiding away. They bring my food to me as I refuse to leave the room and eat with Marco or anyone else who may live here.

Pulling the blanket around me, I drift in and out of sleep.

"Drink up, woman." His words are laughed as he pours the drink into my throat, spitting it out in his face. He swings and hits me. I feel my body pulled back until I am lying flat.

My eyes widen as he forces my mouth open. Pouring the liquid into my mouth, he holds it shut and covers my nose, forcing me to swallow it.

"Good little woman." The drink hits me quicker than I expected, and I begin to see double.

"You first, I will film it." Jack's sinister voice rolls through my mind. Crawling from the bed, hands grab me and pull me back.

"Stay woman. You need to look nice for the video."

Shooting up, I look around at the unfamiliar room. I'm still here. Still kidnapped, still…in a way, safe from Dan, Jack and my dad.

Have fun fucking each other, Jack and Dan.

Rolling my eyes, I climb from the bed and walk to the door. Opening it, my Door Jockey Steve is sitting beside it. His head raises.

"Can I go to the kitchen and get a drink, or is that against the kidnapper's rules? You know, kitchen, knives and shit?"

He sniggers and smiles. "This way."

Woah, so he isn't afraid that I will try to stab them and escape? Brave.

Sighing, I follow. A short while later, he opens the door. I step in, and he stays by the door.

"Orders are you have to make yourself at home. So, feel free to grab what you want." I turn and peer at the clock. It's four thirty, and I won't be sleeping again this morning.

Hitting the button on the coffee machine, I watch as it fills. Maybe two cups? Saves me coming back in ten minutes after I down the first.

Watching it fill, I grab a cup. Deciding to just have one, then come back for another. Pouring the coffee in, I hear the door. Glancing at it, I see feet. My gaze moves up across his legs. Thick muscles enhance them, with tattoos covering every inch. His boxers are riding low, giving me a perfect view of the V. God, I want to lick it.

He's suddenly on top of me, pulling me backwards and taking the coffee jug from my hand.

"Trying to drown yourself as well as burn yourself?" My body is pressed against his hard, hot chest. Squeezing my legs together, I fight back the moan.

His eyes stay on my face and flicker to the bruises.

Nope!

I move, dipping my toe in the coffee spillage on the floor.

"Oh no, help! I'm drowning." One side of my lips twitch up, and he groans. "I said I was clumsy." Okay, that wasn't clumsy.

That was my watching a sex god step into the kitchen, forgetting I was pouring coffee and creating a second mini waterfall after the first one caused by my drooling, no doubt.

He keeps me locked against him, stepping away more. "Behave. You just wasted perfectly good fucking coffee, and for what purpose?" His head tilts. Ah, he knows the purpose.

Nice try, Marco. I'm not admitting that to you.

He releases me and steps back. I reach for my cup, his hand stopping me.

"You will burn yourself. It's overflowing." I watch as he picks up the cup, effortlessly pouring out some without spilling it. Steady hands, solid and steady hands.

No! Lucia, No! You will not be another trope from the last smut you read falling for your kidnappers!

"May I come when you go to collect my items? That way, I know you haven't seen my underwear drawer."

"Very well. We will go today.”

Straightening my body, I take the cup and walk away without looking at him.