6. Liliana

Chapter 6

Liliana

I was groggy when I woke up, my mind feeling hazy, as if I were staring into a TV filled with static.

That electrical snow buzzing loudly in my head and the feeling of being discombobulated so pronounced it made me nauseous.

I got my bearings, and the first thing I realized was that I was alone in the room. My eyes were still closed, but I could sense a stillness, one that could only be linked to Matteo being gone.

His presence was like a shot of electricity through my cortex stealing all rational thoughts.

I sat up slowly, my head swimming slightly before everything became clear.

Calmer.

I looked around the room, the pain nothing but a slight tremor in the back of my head now.

I felt unsteady from whatever medication Matteo had given me. My body felt stiff, as if I'd been sleeping for quite a while. And because I didn't feel drugged, I had to assume that was the case.

I made slow work getting off the bed and padding barefoot over to the bathroom. I was thankful to see I was still in my clothes from when I'd gone to bed at home.

Although, the thought of Matteo undressing me didn't terrify me as much as it should have. I blamed that on the drugs still in my system.

I used the restroom and bent down to guzzle water straight from the tap. I stood there a moment staring at myself in the mirror, seeing the bruise down the side of my face, presumably from when I fell.

I gently touched it, but the painkillers I'd taken must still be doing their job because, despite how nasty it looked, I felt little more than a tenderness.

When I left the bathroom, I was still alone, my focus going straight to the bedroom door. My heart was beating faster the closer I made my way to it. I was about to open it when I looked down at myself. Being barefoot and weaponless wasn't going to help me in getting free, but a quick look around the room showed little that would help with the former or latter.

I started going through the dresser, then the closet, but it was clear this room wasn't being used because I found jack shit in either. No clothes, nothing I could use as a weapon aside from a heavy lamp on the bedside table that was too clunky for me to wield properly.

But I couldn't leave—or attempt to—empty-handed. That would be the stupidest fucking thing for me to do, and I wasn't in some movie where I was a ditzy chick who didn't know two-shits about surviving.

I went back into the bathroom and searched the cupboards and drawers. Aside from a couple of brand new bottles of shampoo and body wash, I came up empty-handed.

Then I rechecked the closet. There were a couple extra blankets on the top shelf, but again, nothing that I could use to beat the shit out of somebody.

I stared at that lamp once again, walked over to it, and picked it up. It was hefty, bulky, but I unplugged it, removed the shade, and gripped the neck in one hand, shaking it a few times to see how it felt.

I didn't know how long I could keep hold of it as the bottom was solid metal and an abstract shape, but it was better than nothing.

After wrapping the cord around the base, I made my way to the door. I expected it to be locked, but it opened right away… and there wasn't a guard stationed on the other side ready to stop me from trying to leave.

This had my hackles rising and warning bells going off in me.

If Matteo didn't have someone watching my door, that meant he wasn't worried about me trying to escape. There isn't any hope for that.

For a moment, I just stood there and listened. I looked down each side of the hallway and saw nothing but emptiness, closed doors, and a few pieces of decor.

At any second, I expected Matteo and a handful of his goons to come down the hall. I was sure there were cameras posted all over, ones strategically placed so that, although hidden, he would know what was happening in every square inch of this prison.

The instinct in me said to run, to go as fast as I could, and get away from the danger. But I knew the reality of my situation. I was in Matteo's house, and he knew this place like the back of his hand.

I could feel him watching me despite being alone. I had to be clever, even if the chance at getting out right now was slim to none.

I looked down at my bare feet knowing that even if by some grace of God I got outside, I probably wouldn't get very far.

With one more stabilizing inhale and exhale, I glanced down the hallway once more.

I took a left, gripping the lamp, my arm already aching from the weight, my palms sweaty from my nerves.

The only thing I heard was the steady tick-tick-tick of a clock in the distance and the soft thump of my feet hitting the plush floor runner beneath me.

When I turned the corner, I spied a set of stairs. I was so close. I could sprint toward it and touch the polished, smooth wood.

But I froze mid-step when I came face-to-face with a man dressed in all black, two guns strapped to his waist, and the ugliest, coldest expression on his face I'd ever seen.

My heart was beating so fast and hard. I couldn't hear anything other than the sound of it in my ears.

I curled my fingers tightly around the lamp and saw him look down at my "weapon". He chuckled humorlessly and then curled his lip in a snarl of disgust.

I was running on pure adrenaline right now.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, as if time stood still and neither one of us could move.

"Get over here, you little, fucking bitch." His voice was thickly accented and as ugly as he was.

On instinct, I took a step back, not realizing I'd done the act until the watch dog came forward, his eyes narrowing, his lips pulling back to showcase his teeth.

Although they were straight and white, they seemed sharp. Like a shark. Like a predator.

He said something harsh and guttural in a foreign language. Italian.

" You stupid fucking whore. I don't know what he sees in you ."

His voice sent hard shivers down the length of my spine, and I took another step back. Then one more.

I was about to throw this fucking lamp at him and hopefully buy myself some time so I could get away.

Matteo was dangerous, more so than this man. But where Matteo was a quiet storm that destroyed, this brute was a hurricane. He wanted everyone to know he was coming.

I could see the violence in his eyes. He got off on it. Of that, I was sure.

He charged forward, and just as I turned, I felt him wrap his big hand around my hair, yanking me back hard enough that I screamed.

I reached behind with the hand not holding the lamp, instinctively trying to ease the pressure and pain.

He kept speaking in Italian, words that I didn't understand but ones I knew were nasty.

As I felt tears from the discomfort slide down my cheeks, survival kicked in. With my hand wrapped around his meaty wrist, I turned and used all my strength to swing the lamp up.

It clipped him on the side of the throat hard enough I heard him grunt from the impact and loosen his hold on me.

He cursed something ugly and low under his breath, and I used his momentary lapse of surprise to wiggle away from him, the lamp crashing to the floor. I heard the bulb break, and when I stepped back, shards dug into the bottom of my foot.

But I felt nothing aside from the need to survive.

I only got one step before he grabbed my nape and dug his fingers into my flesh. His hand was like a vise, locked around me so tightly I expected him to crush my spine.

"Stupid, fucking, little girl." He slammed me hard against the wall and leaned in close, snarling, "When the boss is done with you, I'm gonna fuck you raw. I don't even care that he'll use you up. I'll gladly take his sloppy seconds and tear you up?—"

I was staring up into his eyes when I saw them widen a fraction as if something shocked him. Then it was the warm wetness that covered my face and neck that I registered.

My ears rang after, followed by a massive weight landing against my body before sliding down and dropping at my feet.

I couldn't breathe as I was looking at a corpse.

My mouth dropped open as I gazed into his lifeless face, his dead eyes locked on me. There was an entrance bullet wound at his temple, and on the other side of the exit wound, the bullet lodged in the wall right beside me.

I looked down at myself, seeing the blood covering me. There was so much of the viscous, red liquid dripping down my face, across my chest, and landing on my bare feet.

I heard footsteps coming closer, but it was distant, as if I were underwater, wading through a thickness that was suffocating.

It tried to pull me further down.

"Oh God," I breathed out. "You could have hit me," I heard myself saying and stared at Matteo. He had an unreadable expression on his face.

"Baby girl, you think I don't know how to kill a man with one shot?"

I blinked. He stood on the other end of the hall, a gun in hand and pressed to his side, the tip pointing to the ground.

I could imagine smoke billowing out after he shot…after he blew this asshole's brains out.

"You killed him," I said in a monotone voice, stating the damn obvious as I stared down at the body.

For a second, he didn't answer, and when I looked back at him, I could see him glaring at the body, his brows slightly furrowed, his jaw clenched.

"He said nasty shit to you." He slowly looked back at me. "That offense alone requires blood as payment." He put the gun in the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back. "But he touched you and caused you pain." He took a step forward. "He all but begged me to slaughter him because of that."

I swallowed roughly.

"I want to go," I whispered instead of responding to what he'd just said. It sounded far too… possessive. "I demand you let me leave." I was holding back my tears of anger and fear and… something else, something darker and pleasurable that had me clenching my thighs together.

"You're not going anywhere, Liliana, not until I say you can."

I felt my anger grow. The fact he was refusing to let me leave caused this fire to burn me alive from the inside out.

Annoyance filled me as he pulled a joint out of his pocket, lit the end with a lighter he produced, and brought it to his lips. He focused on my eyes as he inhaled. The end flared a bright orange.

He kept the smoke in his lungs for a moment, never breaking eye contact, and then moved closer.

The wall and Matteo boxed me in. He exhaled. That sweet smelling smoke wafted around me in a cloud of disorientation.

But fear kept me frozen in place for long moments. My breathing became quicker from the adrenaline racing through me.

He repeated this process until I felt my head become lighter, my bones like liquid.

He exhaled a cloud in front of me a third time and grinned. "You're mine, sweet girl. Might as well accept and submit."

I didn't realize what I was doing until I brought my palm to his cheek. I must have shocked the hell out of him because his head cocked to the side from the force of the slap.

I knew if he'd known what I was about to do, it wouldn't have happened.

His jaw clenched, and I saw a muscle tic underneath the scruffed-up skin.

I inhaled sharply, my hand stinging, realizing I'd just made a massive mistake.

I felt like a fragile gazelle and he was the ravenous lion as he looked at me with the coldest eyes.

He smoothed his thumb along his bottom lip. I realized I split it as blood coated the pad of his thumb. He looked at the digit, lifted it so it was between us, and stared into my eyes.

Matteo brought his finger to his lips and smeared italong his mouth again before gripping my chin forcefully, prying my mouth open, and shoving it inside.

A startled sound left me, and I tried to move back, but he growled low, coming face-to-face with me, nose-to-nose.

"Open your mouth and suck it clean." He was unrestrained...something lacing his words.

I almost thought it was increased arousal, as if me fighting back turned him on.

I shook my head—denying him—and he bared his teeth like a predator ready for his next meal.

"Open your fucking mouth like a pretty, little girl and suck the blood off." His nostrils flared, and I found my lips curving around the digit, my tongue sweeping over the pad.

His whole body tensed before something powerful wracked its way through him. He groaned low, his eyes almost closing completely before he removed his thumb.

"Don't do that again, Liliana, or I'll drag you over my knee, bare your ass, and spank it until you can't sit for a week."

He reached down and gripped himself through his slacks, the girth thick in his massive palm.

And then in a move too swift for me to even comprehend, Matteo had both of my wrists in his hands and pressed to the wall on either side of my head.

He used his body weight to keep me pinned against the hard surface, caging me in, blocking out everything else, so all I could see, hear, and smell was him.

My head felt light, but my body was heavy, the marijuana smoke moving through my veins corrupting every cell so I didn't feel as fearful as I knew I should.

Or maybe that was me trying to justify why I was becoming wet or why my nipples were hard and my heart was racing. Because those two things had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with wanting something I'd never had before.

Sex.

And I knew it would be dark and devious and all things wicked with the man in front of me.

Matteo leaned in, and I turned my head to the side, squeezing my eyes shut and pursing my lips. I refused to let him see how he affected me. He only deserved my anger and hatred.

The soft touch of the tip of his nose along the length of my neck had goosebumps pebbling my skin.

"Jesus, you smell good." His voice was raspy, and I shivered involuntarily. "So sweet and soft, so innocent and fragile but a little dirty from the blood of that piece of shit covering you." It was the warm, wet sensation of his tongue following the trail his nose had just made that caused me to shiver. "Never been so hard in my fucking life."

Those last few words were whispered, as if he meant to say them to himself.

All these confusing feelings had me exhaling in a rush, that gust of air escaping me before I could control myself.

" I could break you so easily, and that turns me on like no other."

God, the way he spoke in that romantic language did wicked things to me.

He was exhaling and inhaling harder now."Do you know what you smell like?" He kissed my pounding pulse point.

He pressed his lower half fully against me, and I swallowed roughly at the feeling of the massive erection he sported digging into my belly.

When I didn't answer, he chuckled low.

"You smell like you're going to be mine, Liliana. In every way I see fit. In any way I want."

I clenched my jaw and pushed past my misplaced desire.

When I turned my head, he pulled back. He wore a devilish, arrogant smirk on his face, his eyes roaming over my face.

"You sure are pretty with blood all over you." He leaned in and pressed his cheek to mine, his lips by my ear.

I felt the blood covering my face smear from the contact, a slippery sensation that had me closing my eyes.

"I can imagine fucking you covered in the blood of my enemies."

He was sick and twisted, and God help me, but I craved it.

He let go of one of my wrists, and I found I still held it above me, tethered with an invisible rope. Matteo was breathing so hard now. He leaned back and watched while he smoothed his thumb over my cheek, along my lips, and then pushed the digit inside.

I instantly tasted the coppery tang of the dead man's blood. My stomach clenched, and I bit down hard enough that Matteo hissed then smirked. The sick bastard got off on this.

"You're fucking perfect for me, you little wildcat."

With one last swipe of his thumb over my bottom lip, he gripped my wrist once more.

"Say it," he demanded. "Say you're mine, and maybe I'll be sweet the first time I fuck you, the first time you feel a cock inside of that little virgin pussy."

I stared into his eyes, controlled my breathing, and gave him a smile of my own.

"Fuck. You." I enunciated each word, letting them sink in, allowing them to consume both of us. "I'll never be yours."

That smirk he wore slowly faded. His eyes appeared harder, and I felt his cock throb as if my words aroused him further.

In a move faster than I expected, his mouth was on mine, a fierce growl leaving him when my gasp allowed him to slip his tongue between my lips.

I was too shocked to even move over the fact Matteo forced his way inside. I could do nothing but take it.

I should have been fighting, kicking, and trying to claw him. Instead, I felt my body soften at the flavor of him.

His taste exploded on my tongue.

His warmth surrounded me.

His massive body blocked out everything else until all I felt, heard, and smelled was him.

I was just as demented as he was for enjoying this, for allowing this to go on for one second longer. But still I allowed it. I accepted it.

He pressed his body even harder against mine, and a soft mewl left me. I wanted to say it was in disgust, but I was embarrassingly wet, heinously aroused.

And when he shoved his thigh between my legs and lifted slightly so he was rubbing against the softest part of me, I hated how good it felt.

Sparks of pleasure shot through me, but reality came crashing back down when he sucked on my tongue, pulling it into the hot recesses of his mouth and then gently biting it.

I snapped my eyes open to see him looking at me, pleasure and dominance reflected, and a visual I'd never get out of my head.

I tried to turn away from him and break the kiss. I was the one breathing hard now, unable to ground myself or grasp reality. His flavor became ingrained in my taste buds.

I wanted to spit at him. I wanted to drink a bottle of whiskey just to get his flavor out of my mouth. But I knew that one touch, kiss, was now branded in me irrevocably.

There was nothing but smugness on his face as he took a step back.

The haziness cleared, and before I knew what I was doing, I brought my hand up, intending to slap him again. But before my palm connected, he had my wrist in his hand. It was a tight hold. A little painful… which I found exciting.

"Don't raise your hand to me again, Liliana. I'd never do it to you out of anger." He stepped in close, his lips pressed to mine so that when he spoke again, our mouths felt fused. "Now, if I raise my hand to you for pleasure…" he ground his still hard cock against my belly. "That's something entirely different, sweet girl."

When he stepped away, I swayed, having to press myself hard against the wall to stay upright. He smirked. The bastard knew the effect he had on me.

"I'm taking you back to your room, tending to your foot, and then you're going to be a good girl and not try to fucking run again."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the mention of my foot had me glancing down to see blood on the side of it and covering my toes. I then remembered when I'd stepped on the broken lamp, slicing the bottom of my foot.

I went to walk, knowing tonight wasn't the night to make my escape but hating that I was going to obey him. But he had me in his arms a second later, my arms now wrapped firmly around his neck so I kept my balance.

"I hate you," I whispered.

He didn't respond for a long second, but I felt his lips by my ear once more. "Continua a ripetertelo quando so che la tua figa è bagnata per me in questo momento." Keep telling yourself that when I know your pussy is wet for me right now.

I refused to look at him. I felt his warm breath along my temple. There was no doubt in my mind that the devil was carrying me right now, and I had no choice but to let it happen.