Blacklisted Read online

  "And now it begins," he whispered, before taking a seat opposite me in the matching plush chair. His eyes caught mine for a moment, a soft smile on his face. "Your lips are very soft, and you're not bad to look at. This will be a lot easier then I had hoped for."

  Not bad to look at? I rolled my eyes and put my head back against the couch, thoroughly annoyed that he apparently had every intention of using me however he needed. As I heard him shuffling around I looked up, my eyes following him as he moved to the couch I was on instead.

  "I don't mean to make this sound so... business oriented, Gabriella. However, I need you to recognize that I will take what I want from you as I see fit."

  "So essentially, you're saying instead of taking the offer he had given me to be a well taken care of whore, I'm going to be your secluded, payback whore? Glad I got such an upgrade." I frowned, biting back the tears that threatened my eyes.

  "That isn't what I'm saying. Fuck, do you always have such an attitude? I don't know how you were raised, but I don't take lip from women," he growled, leaning over to grab my jaw again, only this time more forcefully.

  "Look, I already told you how this is going to pan out. If you don't want to anger me, I suggest you keep the attitude to yourself. You are not my whore, but yes, I will be using you in seductive manners to get to him. Stop acting like I'm going to rape you." He let my jaw go and sat back up, taking a deep breath as if to compose himself.

  I nodded slowly and swallowed, feeling the tears burning at my eyes. I chewed at my bottom lip, hoping to hold it in, not wanting to show him the feelings that were coursing through me. He could be so gentle one moment, yet so cold the next. It seemed as if it was just now hitting me that I was trapped. I couldn't leave, and I was going to have to do whatever he wanted me to. I didn't know if he would set me free. And if he set me free would Genovese just snap me right up after? Was his end goal to trade me over to him? The tears must have been freely coursing down my face at this point because Michael’s expression softened and he sighed, pulling me up against him. He stretched an arm around my shoulder and spoke quietly, his breath tickling my ear.

  "I don't want to frighten you, just don't disobey and this won't be as scary. Do you understand?"

  "Y…yes. I d-do." I stuttered out, trying to keep from sobbing.

  "Do you want to watch a movie or something? You're going to be miserable if you spend the whole time like this. Think of it this way, you're getting a free vacation, you don't have to pay for anything, and your company could be worse." He winked at me and I couldn’t help but break a smile, nodding after.

  He pulled himself away from me and made his way to the television, turning it on. I could see him debating what to play before he turned and looked at me. "What genre do you wanna watch?" He tilted his head, gesturing towards the shelf full of DVD's.

  "Horror," I said quickly, not surprised by the expression that took over his face.

  "You, little girly, wanna watch horror flicks huh?" He laughed and shrugged, before slipping something in. Afterwards he made his way over and shut off the lights, making this large beautiful loft turn into a terrifying basement in an instant. I stiffened a little as the title screen came on, the word Insidious flashing on the screen. I groaned internally; I'd never been able to finish this movie. It was just so fucking eerie. He came back over moments later and put two beers on the table, and a bag of chips. I shrugged and reached forward, cracking a beer open, taking a generous gulp from it. He watched me with a funny expression, chuckling after.

  "You aren't like most women, are you?"

  He shook his head and sat back down, pressing play on the nearby remote. I scrunched up in my seat and continued to sip at my beer, trying to solely focus on the movie instead of the heat emanating off of his frame. Every move he made, the sound of his breathing, everything put me on high alert. I tried to convince myself it was just because he was holding me captive, not because he had turned my mind to absolute mush when he kissed me.

  "Chai Latte and a blueberry muffin tomorrow morning, right?" he suddenly asked, his eyes still glued to the television. I turned to him, a little baffled as to how he knew my routine morning order from Dunkin’ Donuts.

  "Following you, remember? I know I come off as fairly normal but that's just to keep you from screaming and trying to escape. Make no mistake; I was definitely stalking you for the past few weeks." He shrugged, opening his beer. He took a sip and studied me for a moment, a smile on his face.

  "You like pepperoni and mushroom pizza, I'm pretty sure the only friend you have is that girl that lives in the same building as you, I'm sure you noticed that I know your sizes for just about everything, and I must say I'm slightly impressed you're a 22 year old girl with no cellphone." He took another sip, a smug expression meeting his eyes.

  "I... I'm not even sure how to address that."

  "And that yoga class you're in? Impressive, I'd say you're almost as good as your teacher."

  "Hey Michael? You're creepy is starting to show," I muttered, sliding away from him.

  He grinned and stretched a bit, leaning back as we both focused on the movie. The slightly eerie things had just started happening, this I could handle. I took another long sip of my beer, finishing it, before setting it back on the table.

  "Want another? Or do you want a Dr. Pepper? I bought a case of them, since you drink them so often." He laughed a little as I glared at him, a little more than irritated that he now seemed to have an idea of my daily routine. And what had he said? I only had one friend?

  "Hey! I have more than one friend by the way!"

  "Really now? You have no phone, and the only people you saw other than that girl in the building, were at the three different jobs you had, and I’m assuming your parents. You have a funny way of keeping friends, Gabriella."

  "Jesus will you just call me Brie?" I finally asked, wondering why he consistently called me by my full name.

  "Sure, Brie. And don't worry; I got the pads you like too. I saw them in your bathroom, and I know you had your period about… 20 days ago? So, just so you know, they're in there." He chuckled quietly before the pillow came flying across the room, hitting him squarely in his face.

  "Tut tut, not a nice way to treat someone that's done so many nice things for you! I've gone out of my way to make sure you're comfortable!" He faked a gasp, grabbing a can from the fridge before walking over and setting it down in front of me.

  "Oh, you're right. Thank you for kidnapping me, stalking me—but remembering to get the pads I like for the PERIOD YOU SHOULDN'T BE TALKING ABOUT," I huffed, trying to cover my embarrassment with pure anger at this point. He chuckled before kneeling in front of me, his hands sliding to my hips. He pulled me forward roughly, his fingers digging into me in almost a painful way as his eyes locked on mine.

  "Remember what I said about the attitude, sweetheart?"

  He leaned forward and forced his lips against mine, his fingers sliding up my nightgown quickly. His hands found the skin of my hips and dug in, his nails pressing against me. I whimpered against his mouth, scared to return this kiss, whimpering more as his tongue forced its way past my lips. He greedily explored my mouth, his thumbs locking onto the front my hips so that he could pull me against him.

  "Do not make me do something that'll hurt you, Brie," he whispered against my lips, tracing them with his tongue afterwards. His hands let go of me slowly and slid out from under my nightgown. He pulled away and sat back down next to me, the smug expression returning to his face.

  I sat there shocked, my mind barely registering on the pain seeping through the skin of my hips.

  So this is my life now? Getting turned on by my kidnapper, who stalked me, and brutally grabs me every time I so much as hint at an attitude? Awesome, I'm disgusting. Ten years from now I'll still live in this basement, I'll have two of his kids, and I'll forget what the outside world even looks like. Maybe I'll take up knitting?

  I shook my head as my thoughts began to stray, knowi
ng I couldn't think like that. Instead, I opened the Dr. Pepper he brought me, sat back, and tried to focus on the movie instead.

  Had I been watching this from the outside I might think it seemed pretty comical; as we watched the movie I consistently jumped, screamed, and covered my eyes—all while Michael sat there laughing hysterically at my reactions. When I tried to cover my eyes for too long he would grab my hands and pull them away from my face, electricity sparking anywhere I felt his skin against mine.

  Once the movie finished I took a deep breath and shook myself out of it, as if I had just run a ten-mile marathon.

  "Why the hell did you pick horror if you're so bothered by it?" He grinned, tilting his head towards me.

  "I figured it would be the genre to take my mind off of my current…predicament?" I said quizzically, not even sure what to call this situation. Yes, I was trapped here, but it honestly wasn't as bad as it could be. He catered to all the needs he assumed I would have, I didn't have to work, didn't have to worry about paying bills, and though he was a freaky stalker with a very passive aggressive nature, he was incredibly nice to look at. Yes, I would definitely be one of those girls that fell for their kidnapper.

  I sighed and shook my head, earning me a curious glance.

  "Nothing," I mumbled, looking around for a clock. I had no idea how much time had passed, no idea if it was day or night outside. I assumed this was going to be a constant issue for me if there was no clock that I could look at.

  "There's a clock on your nightstand, if you were wondering. But it's currently 2 in the morning. Are you tired?" he asked, gesturing towards "my room". I shook my head and shrugged, knowing that falling asleep would be easier said than done. I guess being kidnapped had made me rather restless.

  "Do you want to watch another movie?"

  "Sure, maybe not horror this time."

  "I think I have one you'll like."

  He chuckled and moved back to the TV, slipping a new DVD in. Within moments "National Treasure 2" came on the screen. I squealed and tried to ignore that he knew this was one of my favorite movies. Probably from staring through my window at night while I watched it. In the past month I had watched it at least once a week; I had a thing for Nicolas Cage.

  "I'm going to ignore that you picked this movie based on your stalking antics, because I do love this and I won't let you ruin it for me." I stuck my tongue out but made sure my tone was playful, to keep from getting attacked again. But those lips… I quickly forced the thought out of my head and focused on the television, bouncing a little in my seat as it started up.

  I could see the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, apparently amused by my childish behavior.

  "So, Michael. How long do you think I'm going to be here?" I tried to let this come out as nonchalantly as possible, hoping to get a straightforward answer.

  "Well. I plan on using you to make Genovese spend as much time, money, and manpower as possible. He has gone out of his way to consistently get you fired from jobs, and he’s always got eyes on your place. Do you know why, Brie? He keeps hoping that you'll realize your only option is him. I've heard the conversations, watched him order his men to go to your jobs, and put pressure on your employers until they let you go. Honestly, I’m sure Testa and Monte want to kill him. I know just how much he wants you, and how do you stop a guy that never hears the word “no”? So, I'm going to use you to get to him, to get under his skin. And in the end, I will use you as bait, get him where I need him to be and I'll kill him." He shrugged, as if he had just said something as average as a grocery list to me.

  "You're gonna…WHAT?! YOU'RE USING ME AS BAIT AND THEN YOU'RE GONNA KILL HIM? AS IN MURDER?! YOU ARE NOT TYING ME TO A MURDER YOU LUNATIC!"

  I didn't even know what to think. Genovese was really doing all of this to force my hand? He thought that if he just kept getting me fired I'd what, lose all hope and decide being his mistress was the only way? What did he mean use me as bait? Was he gonna let that sick old man have sex with me? Was he going to make me watch the murder? And how do you just "kill" a guy like Genovese? I didn't know much about how this whole “mafia” bit worked but it was very alive in Philadelphia, and I had a feeling that he was going to end up getting both of us killed in the process.

  "Yes. You're going to be my bait, after I've made him want you to the point that he'll stop at nothing to have you, I will dangle you from the fishing line so to speak, and kill him when he goes for you. You have nothing to be scared of; my plan is rather fool proof. And after that, you're free."

  "Yeah—you're gonna kill some “boss”, that's had all of his …men or whatever tailing me around for a month. You're going to dangle me out like some damn prostitute for him, and then suddenly he's going to end up dead? But you think no one will come after me? You're out of your fucking mind." I quickly jumped up and ran towards the door, but he was faster.

  His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me rough against his form, knocking the air out of me easily. He growled a little as his other hand slid up into my hair, grabbing a handful of it. He pulled my head back hard, earning a whimper from me as his eyes found mine.

  "You really don't learn do you? How do I convince you that at this point—you are mine. You will do what I need you to do and you will stop fucking sassing me. You aren't going to escape here. Even if you managed to get out the door, the elevator is the only way up and it requires a code. The doors upstairs lock from the inside, and also require a code. Did you honestly think I planned all of this, and didn't make sure this building was inescapable?"

  He nipped at my jawline, before kissing me roughly again, this time earning another whimper from me. This noise earned me a growl, and I blushed as I felt him harden against my back. I could feel the core of me growing warm, which only irritated me more. Why are you turned on again? He is literally holding you by the hair, keeping you from escaping, and you're getting a fucking kick out of it.

  I couldn't help it though. My body responded to his touch regardless of what my mind had to say about it. Regardless of how repulsed I felt by his toying with me, his using me; my body could only recognize the fire he ignited. The battle that coursed inside of me was unbearable, though my mind eventually attempted to find level ground. Maybe the more I gave in the less he'd be willing to use me as his disposable piece in the game.

  With this new idea in mind I kissed him hard, my tongue teasingly sliding past his lips touch his. He hissed, his arm around my waist moving to just grab my hip, his fingers gripping me. I eased my body against his slowly; noticing the way the grip on my hair became a little looser. I even went as far as to moan into his mouth, gently biting his bottom lip.

  "Gabriella, do not play with fire," he mumbled against my lips before pulling away. I blinked a little and watched his retreating form as he headed towards the bathroom. A few moments later the shower came on and I couldn't help but smirk, thinking for once I had been the one to get into his head.

  Enjoy that cold shower, buddy. Next time, it won't be so easy for you to get away.

  I smiled to myself, and made my way to the couch deciding that maybe I hadn't lost just yet. If I could just keep this confidence, this edge above him—maybe I could get away.

  three

  After sitting on the couch for an hour, waiting for him to return, I gave up. Clearly, he wasn't going to come back. I made my way to my "bedroom" and climbed into the incredibly soft bed, surprised that my comfort had been such a focus in his kidnapping scheme. I had stayed up for another hour, crying and pitying myself before the exhaustion kicked in and I passed out.

  But now, it was 6 AM on the dot, the alarm clock next to the bed taunting me with its red blinking lights. I sighed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering just long it would take my parents to realize I wasn't in my apartment. Without a phone they didn't speak to me often, but they showed up once a week, brought dinner that Mom had spent hours laboring over, and we shared Sunday as a family. They hadn't been too thrilled with me living
away from them, but they reluctantly recognized that I had to grow up.

  However, grown-up or not, they were old-fashioned and Sunday was the day you spent with your family, eating as much as your mother could stuff into you. She would buzz around my apartment, cleaning what was already clean, stuffing snacks into my mouth until I couldn't move from the couch. She would scold me in Italian, as her mother had done to her. All while this was happening, my father would read the paper and curse under his breath about how no one could run an honest business with the knuckleheads interfering all the time. He would speak of old family friends he grew up with—the Difiglias that ran the bakery, the Morellos that ran the butcher shop. "All of them are in somebody's pocket, bambina. There is nowhere safe on this side of town." And then he would frown, and Mom would do the sign of the cross silently.

  But where would I be when Sunday came? Here in my decorated dungeon? Being "dangled" as bait, as Michael had so eloquently put it? I rubbed at my eyes, hoping the tears wouldn't come again. But, as I started to consider the situation more, I started to wonder—If Genovese can always find me, could he find my parents? Could his men find my parents? When Michael kills him, would they extract their revenge on us? At that, the waterworks began. I cried silently to myself, clinging to my pillow as minutes passed.

  I should have left with them. I shouldn't have been working in a gentleman's club to begin with. What if something happens to them? As I continued to torture myself with endless questions, I heard my door open. I quickly spun to my other side, not wanting him to see just how broken I was. This is exactly what he wanted; my spirit to be so utterly crushed that I would just go along with whatever he needed. But, to my surprise, he had no condescending tone when he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

  He sat down in my bed next to me, and began to rub my back in slow circles, sighing under his breath. "I know this is scary for you, but I told you, in the end it'll all be fine."