Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance(90)

I’m still in my crumpled dress from the night before… was it last night? I have no idea of the time, I realize, only that it’s sunny outside. The window faces a drab building across the street, completely unremarkable and unmarked, for that matter.

I grab some of the paper towel next to the sofa and wipe off my mouth before I stumble to the bathroom. Or try to, at least. My legs are weaker than I could’ve imagined, and I feel so dizzy. It takes me a while to make my way there. The washroom has the same kind of austere layout as the rest of the ‘safehouse.’ But it’s clean enough to eat off of, and that’s comforting enough.

I vomit again, but it’s really more of a dry heave, since I have no more food to leave me. I notice a toothbrush and paste there, so I clean my mouth out once I’m done, trying to get the sickening tang of my own vomit out of there.

One look in the mirror, and I’m instantly feeling awful again. I’m pale, my makeup is smudged, and I look like hell. No wonder Mikhail didn’t look the least bit interested in me. Well, that and the fact that I’m technically his captive, I suppose.

He said he wants to keep me safe, though. Safe from what?

I wash away the streaked eyeliner and smudged lipstick, and that gets rid of some of my disaster-case appearance.

My hair feels awful, but at least the hairspray kept in my curls. Still, I desperately need a shower.

I shut and lock the door, quickly stripping out of my dress and turning the shower on hot. Steam fills the small room, and it would be soothing if I didn’t feel so troubled. My stomach churns, and not just because of whatever they slipped me last night.

It’s all just darkness, and when I step into the shower and the hot water hits me, so too does a sob. What happened last night? I want to scream at the fact that I can’t remember, that I don’t know what happened. How does someone just lose hours of their life? I’ve been drunk before, but never forgotten so much like this.

The cascade of water does little to soothe my troubled mind, and tears mingle with the shower. I feel like screaming, like crying, like giving up. I’m terrified, and don’t know what’s happening. It didn’t even occur to me to check my phone. Maybe someone’s messaged me, given me some words of helpful comfort.

I quickly finish the shower, feeling a little more like myself before wrapping myself in the towel and padding out towards the bedroom. I check my shoes and around the cot, but there’s nothing. No phone.

Fuck, that must be how he found out my name! I curse myself for not having figured it out sooner. Of course he stole my phone. Why wouldn’t he, if I was being held captive?

For my own good, he’d said. Well, I should be the one to decide that. He can’t just come into my life, kidnap me, then tell me it’s for my own good.

I grab the clothes he set out for me and quickly pull them on. Shocker, they fit. This guy is even more of a creep than I figured! Anger starts fueling me. I’m not going to sit here like some helpless damsel. I’m going to get out.

I go to the barred window, finding myself several stories up and without a fire escape. That’s gotta be against the law, but so is kidnapping, so whatever. I try to open it, but it seems like it’s sealed shut, and I let out a groan.

A wave of exhaustion hits me, and I have to lean against the wall for support.

What if he’s watching? What if there are cameras? I shake the thought away. It’s not going to do me any good to think like that. I just have to get out and find out what’s going on.

I try the front door, but it’s locked and made of metal. There’s no budging it. Then I go to the kitchen, where I find there are no knives and one locked cupboard, but I do get a thick spoon and take it to the window. I try to push it in, see if maybe I can’t pry the window from its setting, but I’m weak and having little success.

I must be at it for a while, because I eventually get so exhausted I slump to my knees in that pink set of around-the-house wear. What is it he’s gotten me, anyhow? Yoga pants, socks and a shirt. It’s deranged, I feel like a girl in my father’s home again, and the helplessness makes me want to sob.

“The window is sealed shut,” comes his dark voice, standing behind the sofa, and I cry out, startled. I didn’t hear him come in at all! And it’s not like my trying to pry open the window was a noisy affair!

I scramble backwards, away from his towering form. The daze must have parted, though, because earlier I thought he was cute, but now...

I’m being held captive by an Adonis. He’s all muscle and smoldering glare.

Just what I need.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl! What if I’d been changing?”