Damn Santino Marchetti. He had to be insanely gorgeous and staring at me like he could eat me up. My body heats up thinking about the way he licked his lips at lunch, and it wasn’t because of the food.
I picked up one of the how-to-be-a-mother books, but it doesn’t help me fall asleep because my mind hasn’t stopped running on overdrive. I read it for the first time, and I picture myself holding a beautiful baby boy in my arms as my husband slides his arms around me from behind. “Ugh,” I grumble, slamming the book on the bed. I can’t read this because it’s not Rafael—it’s Santino as my husband. Daydreaming is stupid and pointless.
Jumping off the bed, I change into a silky nightgown and pop my birth control. I stare at the remaining packets, wondering what would happen if I took them all at once. Can you OD on them? There’s no way I would know. I have access to nothing but a few books in my room that are beyond depressing. My prison is an iron cage dusted with gold leaf.
If I weren’t already on the pill, I’m sure he would have beaten a child out of me. I’m on the last active pill for the month. The next week is my placebo week and then my period will come, which means my ass better find a way out of this house before I get it because they will probably kill me if I’m not pregnant.
I listen at the door, hoping that I don’t hear anything. My guard usually leaves the floor around nine. It makes no sense why they bother because I can’t leave on my own. The entire compound is surrounded by guards, and I can’t climb. It’s probably a skill I should learn. I pick up The Grapes of Wrath and dig in. Every page I struggle to make it through causes my eyelids to dip lower and lower until I’ve fallen asleep.
It’s dark when I’m startled awake by a noise, but I don’t move. I hear the footsteps creeping closer to the bed, and I pretend to still be asleep. I don’t want to consider the plan Rafael has for me. The bed shifts with his weight and I feel his hand come up to my face, I brace for it, but he doesn’t move to my throat. Instead, he slides his mouth over mine as he lightly pinches my ass. I can’t believe the way I’m moaning into his kiss, loving his mouth on me. What the hell? He’s my bastard husband. Rafael?
“Don’t ever say his name in my arms.” I swear I hear Santino’s voice as my world darkens.
“I don’t want you,” I utter as I pass out.
I WAKE UP GROGGILY with my head fuzzy, but from the looks of it unharmed. Maybe last night had all been a dream. Did I really dream about Santino kissing me? I’m glad Rafael didn’t come in and hear me if I did. I roll over onto my back when I hit a large frame. A frame much larger than Rafael’s. I reach out and feel a muscular chest. I open my eyes and see Santino with his elbow propping him up as he looks at me.
“Good morning.” The smile on his face almost makes me forget the danger we’re in.
“Good morning? Are you nuts? What are you doing in my bed? Rafael will kill you. Oh my goodness. I wasn’t dreaming.” My heart’s racing as fast as my mind is. I can already picture Rafael and his goons busting down the doors and shooting up the place on principle alone. Or maybe they’ll just torture us to death. I look into his eyes and all I see is mirth, which pisses me off as much as it turns me on.
“You thought you dreamed of me, baby?” He slides his hand over my hip and under my nightgown. My skin tingles from the gentle grip he exerts. God, how am I getting turned on?
It makes me mad how hot he is, and I become flustered with his touch. I shove his hand away and glare at him. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not in your bed at the compound. You’re in our bed in my home.”
“What?” I flip around and look. This isn’t my room. The room is made of clean lines, greyish-blue walls with a large television mounted to the wall. I’m confused and taken aback by this. Slamming my eyes shut, I take several deep breaths and then pinch myself.
“You’re not dreaming. I took you, and you’re here. End of story.” He sits up in the bed, and it’s the first time I notice that he’s ripped from his shoulders down to his...oh my goodness. He’s extremely hard right now. I turn to look away. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m not sure,” I respond with a barely audible whisper. My confusion has only grown. I stand to get some space between us and then it dawns on me that I’m not in my nightgown anymore. Instead, I’m in a big tee shirt with my hard nipples pressing against the letters.
“You took off my clothes? Are you trying to get us killed?” I cover my chest, like it does me any good. The man took off my clothes last night. Did he do anything else to me?
“I’m not afraid of any of them. And yes. Do you think I’d let you wear something my brother probably has fucked you in? I don’t want anything of his tainting my home.” I’m seeing a change
