6. Becca

6

BECCA

I van slammed the door and locked it. The click reached my ears like a final sound, almost as though it was the last word of that interaction. He was in charge. I couldn’t mistake the dynamic going on here.

What I couldn’t understand was why he’d slashed through the ties keeping me in place. He wanted to keep me captive, that much was obvious. No windows gave me a chance to escape here. Nothing for a weapon to defend myself should he come back, as if I could survive attacking him or getting physical.

My hands shook as I scrambled off the bed and hurried to fetch my shorts and panties. Little good they would do me now. Since he’d… he’d…

Oh, God. I couldn’t even go there. The thought of him using a knife, the hard handle like that to tease me and insert it into where I’d gotten so wet and slippery with arousal…

A sob rose up my throat, but I swallowed it down. If he could hear me through that door, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was reacting to what he did.

He’d put me on the spot because I’d gone silent and uncooperative on him. He’d played that nasty, wicked game with me, taunting me with an object like that in such a filthy way, all to get me to talk.

What did he want? I told him that I didn’t associate with Steven. I didn’t know anything about the Rossinis other than what a lying, manipulative asshole Dominic Rossini was as he led me on to think I was worth something, that my art was valuable enough to be sponsored.

Yet he had to go so far as to violate me and make me feel so…

No. Stop. He wasn’t getting anything from me. Not the submission he wanted, not like that, dammit.

Tears stung my eyes as I shoved my legs through my clothes roughly and quickly, wishing for more and more layers to hide behind. Tempted to grab the blanket and wrap it around me like a shield, I paced in the room. Hugging myself didn’t make an impact. As long as I was here, strips of fabric still tied around my wrists, behind this locked door, I was stuck and not going anywhere until he thought I was no longer useful as a hostage or a pawn in whatever vendetta he had against Steven.

Tense and confused, not to mention strained from coming so close to coming in the most unexpected and forbidden way possible, I paced and worried, fretted and freaked out, slowly and silently.

What was going to happen? What would he do with me? Was he here because of my father’s plans? Because I was the mother of a Rossini baby?

Before I could let the unanswered questions flood me and overwhelm me to the point of anxious hysteria, the lock on the door clicked.

I spun, facing the door as it was pushed open. My heart raced, lodged in my throat. My lungs strained to bring in air fast enough. The immediate spike of fear that pierced through me dizzied me, but all I could do was lean one hand on the bed. Keeping the bed between myself and the door, I tensed and waited.

Ivan didn’t come alone. Another rugged man accompanied him, and at the first glance, I noticed the familial resemblance. A brother? Cousin? Whoever he was, he looked just as dangerous as Ivan, muscled and packing a gun, a cold, stern, glowering expression with cautious eyes.

He checked me out, a blunt once-over like he was assessing me as a threat or a risk to handle efficiently. His regard didn’t intimidate me like Ivan’s did. This newcomer didn’t eye me with blunt interest like Ivan had. Ivan once again roved his smoldering stare up and down me, his lips kicked up on one side like he was amused. Humored.

Is he thinking about what he did to me?

Is he imagining what I looked like?

Is he ? —

I stood up straighter, determined to stay strong, both against him and his buddy and my own stupid thoughts. It hardly mattered what he thought. His opinions couldn’t matter. What he’d done was wrong. Tying me up. Removing my clothes. Sticking… anything inside me like that.

Humiliation mixed with awful regret, but I realized it was a conscious action to get so wet and turned on, eager to come then. My body betrayed me. My pussy ached, and I was a puppet to the magic of desire.

Still, I hated that he’d been able to play me like that, fine-tuned toward how to get me to surrender so quickly.

Ivan wasn’t a man to trust, not at all. So I made sure to watch him closer than this other man. I vowed to never lower my guard again, even if hope was futile with him in charge and dominating the situation.

“Where is it?” the other man asked. He lifted his hand to me, and I furrowed my brow. I didn’t have a clue what he thought I might have on me.

“I took it when I transported her.” Ivan held out my phone. At the sight of the old-model device, I clenched my teeth. Seeing it in his hands proved that I wouldn’t have a chance to call for help, but even if I could, I didn’t know who to call. 911 was an obvious option, but with Steven affiliated and employed by the NYPD, I couldn’t chance the dispatcher somehow getting him involved. If Ivan was so determined to find out intel about Steven, I bet the man coming here wouldn’t be good.

“The passcode.” The other man accepted the phone and paired his firm request with an arched brow of expectation.

I swallowed.

“She’s been giving me the silent treatment, Dmitri,” Ivan dryly stated, as though I was a troublesome child due for a scolding.

“The passcode,” Dmitri repeated.

I zoned out, staring at my phone. I didn’t give a shit what they wanted to look at on there. I had nothing to hide.

Except Emily.

Pictures were saved in a folder that I used to download onto my laptop. I took far too many of them when the device’s battery was sufficient. It was such an old phone that I never had enough space to save many images. The ones that I had on there were no doubt all of the adorably chunky baby I so adored.

I couldn’t risk them finding her. I had to protect her at all costs, and if this whole thing had something to do with the Rossini Family, I had to take every precaution to keep my baby from them.

Dmitri sighed, glancing at Ivan.

He looked at me nonplussed as he tilted his head to the side. “What are you hiding?”

I shook my head. This was hurting my head. Frustration gave way to exhaustion. “Nothing. I’m not hiding anything.”

Dmitri raised his brows, still waiting.

“I told you, I do not get involved with Steven’s plans and schemes.”

“The passcode,” Ivan ordered. His tone was just as bossy and demanding as Dmitri’s was, but the glint of a challenge in his eyes, as though he looked forward to my being difficult again, tormented me.

“Five, two, nine, nine.” I exhaled a long breath with that forfeit.

Dmitri tapped on the screen, then he brought another object up close, likely interfering with what I had on there. Not knowing was agony. “What are you doing?” I hated how weak and nervous my voice was.

“Tracking your call history,” Dmitri answered, surprising me. I hadn’t actually counted on them to reply.

“What… what else?” I swallowed hard. My throat was so damn dry.

“What are you so nervous about?”

Emily. My baby. Please, don’t. I pressed my lips together and struggled to think of what to say that wouldn’t piss him off. Surely, he couldn’t care if I had a child.

Once the worry deepened, I wondered if that was it. If Emily, my baby, was the key to what was going on. All this time he’d been messing with me and playing with me like a toy held hostage, I’d been stuck with the assumption that Steven was bluffing. That Dom might actually be interested in custody like Steven told me.

A deep sense of panic threaded through my mind, and I became frantic to figure it out.

“Previous calls to Dominic Rossini.” Dmitri held the phone up to show Ivan. “Going back as far as a year ago.”

Ivan crossed his arms. “What’s that about?”

“What, what do you mean?” Even though my voice shook, I kept my chin raised, my head held up high. I wasn’t about to offer information. If they wanted to know something specific about things not to do with me or Emily, I didn’t want to be in that discussion at all. The less I knew, the better. Ignorance, especially with anything Steven or these crime lords did, was preferred.

“I won’t bother with a step backward of asking if you know him. What’s your relation to Dom Rossini?”

His withering stare challenged me to tell the truth, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Not until I knew why he cared.

“I’m not related to him.”

“What is your connection to him?” Dmitri asked.

“He…” I licked my lips, under pressure and not knowing what to say.

“He what?” Ivan lowered his arms and narrowed his eyes at me, becoming even more threatening with just those movements.

“He was a potential sponsor for my artwork.” Skimming over the truth seemed like the best option, and I prayed that it would work.

“Your artwork?” Dmitri asked, skeptical. He glanced at Ivan as though to silently ask are you hearing this right?

“You’re an artist?” Ivan lifted his chin, looking down his nose at me.

I nodded. “Dom was supposed to help me get my feet in the door. The art world is a highly competitive one, and he had connections in Europe, with galleries and commission project heads.”

Dmitri returned to my phone, scrolling and snooping.

“He took me to Italy, mostly,” I added, nervous whether Ivan would believe this truth. “My paintings didn’t do well anywhere, but I did garner some interest for my sculptures.” I felt so silly, insignificant. Talking about my passion, about a creative endeavor like this with a man who couldn’t care about anything like it. Thugs and criminals didn’t waste time with masterpieces that only existed for the purpose of beauty and provoking thoughts.

“I don’t believe you.” Ivan shook his head, tilting his head to the side to see what Dmitri showed him on the screen.

“It looks more like you were dating him, according to these texts.” Dmitri glanced up at me, wearing the same expression of doubt Ivan did.

“No. I…”

“You deny it?” Ivan asked.

“I… No. I supposed he was dating me. But it wasn’t real. It was…” I hung my head for a moment, hating that I had to relive this pain. “He was using me. Just to keep tabs on my father. He knew I was Steven’s daughter and he wanted to stay abreast of his actions.” I shrugged, wincing at the tension on my muscles after being tied up. “That’s all men do.” I glared at Ivan, emphasizing that he fit in that category too. “Men see me as a prop, a tool to get what they want. Steven has always seen me as a person to use and manipulate, but I never gave him the chance.”

That was a partial lie. I suspected something might be fishy from the beginning when Steven introduced me to Dom. But I’d been so excited for a sponsor and finding a wealthy person who seemed to care about my art that I got suckered in.

“I am not and never have been involved with anything Steven does. Dom either.”

My phone rang, buzzing in Dmitri’s hand. Both men looked at me, and I tensed.

It had to be Hannah. She had to be so worried that I hadn’t come home from work yet. She’d been with Emily all this time.

“Interesting,” Dmitri said. “This number seems familiar.”

What? That wasn’t interesting. It was odd. It wasn’t Hannah, then.

He glared at me. “Answer it.” Then he pressed the accept call button and lifted it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Becca.” A man I didn’t recognize spoke. “I’m calling from the Rossini offices.”

Dread coiled in my stomach. It had to be someone from Dom, reaching about custody, just like Steven had warned.

He cleared his throat. “Where is Emily, Becca?”

My pulse tripled. I blinked, unbalanced and weak with that one taunting question.

Emily.

The call was dropped. A beep sounded, signaling the disconnection.

My knees gave way as I dropped to the floor.

Emily!

She should have been safe with Hannah at home. She was supposed to be fine despite her father’s identity. All I ever wanted was to raise her with the love I never had myself as a child.

But I didn’t know where she was. I wasn’t home to see her and protect her.

I was here, caught in some twisted, confusing mess that couldn’t matter to me or her.

Terror streaked through me, chilling me from the inside out.

If that man knew to ask about my baby, Dom knew that she existed.

If that man knew to call me directly and ask about where she was… it implied he had a reason to assume she was missing, just like I was.