Blacklisted Read online

  "Oh really? You still have yet to tell me how you're going to prevent his pisanos from coming after me after you get your vengeance," I said, pure venom seeping through my words. "Or how about how are you going to protect my parents? Huh, Michael? You thought that far? Or does it not matter because yours are already gone."

  By the time my words had left my mouth, I knew it had been cruel—but honestly I didn't care. Was I supposed to be sympathetic, when he was putting my parents and I in harm's way?

  His hand stopped abruptly. His once soft touch turned to him gripping my arm, spinning me over so that I faced him. His eyes had already darkened, his words eerily quiet and calm, regardless of the anger that was behind them.

  "Perhaps I've been too nice to you, Gabriella. You seem to be under the impression that you can still talk to me however you please. I don't care if I have to break you, over and over again, you WILL behave." And with that, I was pinned beneath him, his lips pushing against mine. His fingers began to dig into me, small pain indicators registering in my brain as his tongue forced its way into my mouth. He greedily slid his hands to the edge of my nightgown, pulling it up roughly. I whimpered against his mouth, unable to get out the "sorry" I wanted to say. Instead, I weakly kissed him back, hoping he would calm down.

  His fingers slid to the edge of my panties, causing my eyes to widen. I whimpered again, kissing him harder, my tongue pushing against his in hopes that I could distract him. He chuckled quietly and pulled away from my lips, his body weight pushing against me so that his free hand could trail up to my face, brushing a few hairs out of my cheek.

  "Shhh…" he whispered, his eyes locking on mine. It was there that I saw it—no longer were his eyes darkened with anger. Instead, determination had filled them, and desire?

  Before I could get a word out, he stood up and pulled his cellphone from his back pocket and took a few shots of me, my eyes widening as I realized the lower half of my body was still exposed, my cheeks flushed, my hair messy.

  "The way you look right now—it will drive him crazy. You don't know how delectable you look," he smirked, tucking the phone back into his pocket.

  "I left towels in the cupboard next to the bathtub, and that Garnier shit you like is in the cupboard as well. And that body wash… strawberry smoothie? I didn't really understand the purpose of that until I was close enough to smell it on you, it's intoxicating," he said as he turned and made his way out the door.

  I laid there, stunned, not sure what to think about the morning so far. I had spent half of it crying and half of it wishing that Michael would put me out of my misery and fuck me already. The way he consistently made me feel by kissing me made me second-guess the idea of getting away from him. But—after the kiss, it's like I became a project to him. He could so quickly detach himself, snap a few pictures of me and be on his way. He had seemed so…into it.

  I sighed and pulled my nightgown down, closing my eyes for a moment. I had been here less than three days and so much had already happened. I found it hard to wrap my mind around just what he had in store for me. Yet—the more I thought about it, the more upsetting it became that he was using me in such a dirty way. He had basically turned me into his little finger puppet. He did whatever he wanted to do, anything to elicit the response he wanted. How was I going to survive this as the same woman I was before Michael? What would be left of me?

  After swallowing my shame I made my way to the shower, delighted that he had pretty much replicated all of my products from home. I stayed in there until the hot water melted away the tension that built in me, and then reluctantly shut it off, wrapping a fluffy gray towel around my body.

  I headed back to my bedroom and to the closet, flipping through the outfits he had stocked me with. After filtering through all of the mini dresses and slutty skirts he had packed in here, I came across a loose, albeit sheer, gray tank top. I pulled it out and went to the drawer of unmentionables, grabbing a black lingerie set. Underneath the lingerie drawer was a drawer filled with ungodly tight looking jeans and small pairs of shorts. I rolled my eyes and pulled out a black pair of cutoff shorts that barely passed my ass. Sighing a little, I got dressed and made my way out of the room, not bothering to even look in the mirror he provided.

  As I entered the open space I could hear Frank Sinatra coming from the kitchen, and could visibly see him swaying as he cooked something on the stove. I tilted my head and watched him for a moment, wishing for the millionth time that I wasn't in this predicament. Instead, I pretended that he was a new prospective boyfriend, and I was just learning about some of his adorable habits. I approached slowly and crossed my arms over my chest, watching as he hummed along and continued to sway.

  As if he could sense my presence he turned around, a smile on his face. He pulled me into his arms and spun me around the kitchen, singing the lyrics to "I've Got You Under My Skin" proudly to me. I laughed and let him spin me then pull me close, dancing with him as I had many times with my father.

  "My father used to sing this to my mother all the time, and twirl me around as she cooked," I said quietly, looking up at him.

  "As did my father. They loved Frank; they've even seen him perform. My father was… quite the romantic," he mumbled sadly, letting go of me slowly.

  "I'm sorry you lost them. It seems they meant a lot to you."

  "They did. It's no matter; things will work out. You're up a little late for breakfast, so I'm making sauce. I'm going to run out for a little bit to pick up some supplies. I trust you can watch this while I'm gone?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, though I knew what he was asking was could I cook.

  "For someone that was spying on me for so long, I'd think you would recognize that most of the time I ate at home. I wasn't living on sandwiches was I?" I grinned, resting my hands on my hips. I knew I was being cocky, but the truth was I had inherited my mom's skills in the kitchen—not that she had really given me an option. She was completely baffled by girls my age that didn't know how to cook. Then again, she also thought the highest honor a woman could achieve was getting married to a business man, having his children, and doting after all of them until she met her death bed.

  "I know, I was just teasing you. I've actually had some of your leftovers. That chicken cacciatore was great." He winked at me, though I could still see that sadness lurking in his eyes.

  "I'm past getting appalled by the fact that you were invading my privacy, and breaking into my apartment. I'm just going to take the compliment this time."

  "Good girl. Like I said, I'll be gone shortly, probably about an hour. Don't let this burn." He motioned towards the pot, and for good measure smacked my ass after. I jumped a bit and furrowed my brows, earning a chuckle out of him.

  With that, he was out the door, leaving me to my prison. I sighed and hummed along with "Fly Me to the Moon" as it came on. I stirred at the sauce and turned the burner down, placing the lid back on.

  What to do while you're not here. I tapped my lip, glancing around the area until my eyes locked on his makeshift office. Smiling to myself I walked over and sat in the plush leather chair, pulling myself up to his desk.

  Channel your inner Nancy Drew, what over here can help you.

  I rifled through papers, irritated by the lack of helpful information I was finding. As I picked up one of the folders a news article fell out, landing in my lap. Picking it up my eyes scanned the headline, a soft gasp escaping my lips.

  Russo and Son's Italian Eatery burns to the ground, two deaths

  In a tragic accident, the locally famous eatery caught fire, trapping and killing the original owner Vincenzo Russo, and his wife Liliana Russo inside. Vincenzo had officially passed on ownership to their only son, Michael Russo, but was still very involved in the restaurant.

  "It's completely devastating. Vincenzo and Lily were friends to everyone, a very sweet couple, still very in love," said Gina Martinelli, owner of Martinelli's flowers, located across from the restaurant.

  "They were such a beautiful fa
mily, they were always together. I feel terrible for their son." Adriana Rossi, a family friend.

  After a thorough investigation, the fire was cited as an accident due to faulty electrical wiring. The Russos are survived by their son, Michael.

  I read it a few more times, my eyes welling in tears at the sad story. I recognized the restaurant in the picture, realizing I had been there with my parents when I was younger. I was pretty sure my father was actually friends with Vincenzo, Michael's dad. Regardless of his demeanor, my heart broke for him. He hadn't discussed the situation with me yet, but I couldn't imagine what he felt.

  I carefully tucked the article back where it fell from and pulled myself away from his desk, deciding I didn't want to see anymore. I didn't condone what he was doing with me, and I was still going to plot my escape, but I could at least understand where he was coming from now.

  I made my way back into the kitchen and unlidded the sauce again, stirring at it idly.

  I knew I was zoned out when I heard the door open again. Have I really been standing here over the stove for an hour? I pulled the wooden spoon from the sauce and backed up a little, watching him come through the door. "Hi," I said quietly, noting the bags in his hand.

  "Hello, Brie. Is the sauce alright?"

  I rolled my eyes, nodding before gesturing towards the stove. "Go check it for yourself!"

  He shrugged and made his way over, eyeing it tentatively.

  "Good job kid, you didn't burn it," he smirked at me and before I could retort he grabbed me and picked me up, sitting me on the counter.

  "Before you say something you're going to regret, just take that as a compliment." He let go of me and turned around, tending to his masterpiece, adding a few more seasonings. He turned back to me, holding the spoon in his hand. "Taste," he said, holding the spoon to my lips.

  I leaned forward and seductively slid my tongue across the spoon, my eyes closing for a moment in satisfaction. "Bene," I mumbled, amazed at how amazing it tasted.

  He watched me for a second more before leaning in, licking at the corner of my mouth. "You had some on you," he whispered huskily, his eyes finding mine.

  "Oh." I blushed, unable to keep my eyes from his lips. He suddenly leaned back, pushing a hand through his golden locks, closing his eyes for a moment.

  "What am I going to do with you?" he sighed, studying me for a moment.

  "I was hoping you would tell me. What are you going to do with me?"

  "I don't know. I thought it would be easier than this. Easier to think of you as a means to an end."

  I frowned, looking away from him, not wanting to have this conversation with him anymore. He reached up and grabbed my chin, turning me back towards him.

  "I know you understand, cara mia. You may not approve of the fact that I'm doing it to you, but if it were your parents, would your antics not become... immoral?" he asked quietly, as if he was asking for my approval. I sighed and nodded, looking down.

  "I'm just scared. I know you've suffered—but your plan, it just seems like there's so much risk. Maybe at this point you feel like you have nothing to lose, but would you really want me to be left the same way?" I knew I was treading on dangerous grounds, but I was getting really tired of him talking to me like I was irrelevant.

  "Do you honestly think I'm that terrible of a person? That I would put you in the same place that I am? I'm not like that monster, Brie. I don't have any fucking intention of getting you or your family hurt. I would say I need you to trust me, but honestly I don't care if you do. This is happening either way—but you'll get through it easier if you recognize that your pain is not what I'm after." He moved away from me and turned back to the stove, turning the burner off.

  "I'm sorry if I offended you," I said quietly, confused by the fact that I cared about how I made him feel.

  He sighed and turned around, reaching up to slide his fingers across his cheek.

  "Listen to you, apologizing to your own kidnapper. You're something else you know that? Perhaps if I explained a little more you would understand. Testa and Monte, the men I spoke of earlier… Testa is Genovese’s… advisor, and Monte, well you can think of him as an understudy. Their business, Brie, it’s serious. There’s a lot of money flowing through those hands and they’re all greedy men. Genovese lately… he’s losing it. Spending all of this money over one girl? I promise you—no one is going to come after you if Genovese ends up missing, if anything they’ll probably be more than thankful. So relax, beautiful. Once this is done, it’s done."

  I blushed and looked away, realizing just how ignorant I was when it came to this whole situation.

  "Don't look away from me, bambina," he said, before turning my face back to his. Before I could defend my ridiculous need to apologize to him, I felt his lips on mine. However, this time there was no malice, no need to control me, no aggression. I quickly responded, my arms wrapping around his neck as if to keep him from suddenly changing his mind and pulling away. I slid my tongue across his lips, coaxing him to continue. He chuckled against my mouth and nipped at me playfully, pushing his body between my legs. His hands rested on my hips, and my thighs hugged him close to me.

  "Fuck. I can't do this anymore," he whispered before he picked me up, wrapping my legs fully around his waist. He carried me to the couch and laid me underneath him, his body pressed to mine, and suddenly I realized this situation had become far more complicated than either of us had hoped.

  four

  Hours. We had literally spent hours exploring each other. Every touch had felt new, exciting, and had thoroughly pushed us deeper into this bliss we had found in each other. When we finally came out of our haze I laid beneath him, my skin flush with a light sheen of sweat covering my form.

  "Stay like that for a moment," he said softly. Within a minute I could hear the snap of my picture, my eyes sliding shut as I tried to ignore that he just did that. I knew he was right; I knew Genovese wouldn't show them to anyone. I knew they were only part of this elaborate scheme, and now that I knew the full back-story I understood why he was so passionate about seeing Genovese suffer. But couldn't he let me have this one moment?

  I stretched before standing up slowly, deciding it wasn't worth thinking about anymore.

  "Brie?" He tilted his head, reaching for me. I shook my head and walked towards the bathroom, hoping that a shower would make this sickening feeling go away.

  I scrubbed at my skin roughly, as if killing the top layer would cleanse me of these feelings. How could I be so easy? How could I give into him without hesitation? It wasn't enough that he had stalked me, broken into my house, kidnapped me, and trapped me here? I had to let him have my body as well?

  "Fuck." I whimpered as the tears started to roll down my face. How could I have been so stupid? How could I let him completely take over? What would be left of me at this point?

  I spent the next half an hour mentally insulting myself until my skin felt raw from my scrubbing. I shut the water and climbed out carefully, instantly being met with a flash in my eyes.

  "That's perfect. The way the water is clinging to your skin is tantalizing." Michael smirked, clicking a few more.

  I stood there, stunned, my mouth hanging open. Was he fucking kidding? Was it not evident that now really wasn't the time for his bullshit? He tucked the phone into his pocket and leaned in to kiss me. I quickly turned my head, evading his advances. I grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around myself. After making sure it was secured I turned to him, my voice low and hoarse from crying.

  "Don't touch me. Don't try to make me feel like you give a fuck. Just do what you need to do and get your plan finished. I don't care what happens at this point; I just want to get away from you," I spit out, my eyes glaring daggers into his.

  His face was fixed with a very careful expression, his eyes almost void.

  "I will do as I please with you," he said quietly before turning on his heel, leaving the room.

  I stood there a moment more before mak
ing my way across the hall to the bedroom. I shut the door behind me and pulled my body onto the bed. I crawled under the thick comforter and curled into myself, praying that this nightmare would be over soon.

  My eyes opened slowly, peering around the room. I was no longer wrapped in my towel but wearing my silk black nightgown. My pillows were placed carefully under me, and an extra blanket was now on top of me. He tucked me in?

  I shook my head and turned to look at the clock, surprised that a few hours had passed. I stood up slowly and made my way out of the room, walking towards the main area. He was sitting at his desk, deeply focused on the screen of his laptop. I walked towards him, my bare feet padding across the glossy cement floor. He lifted his head and smiled at me, rolling away from his desk to pat his lap. "Come here, Brie."

  I shrugged and walked over, sitting in his lap, turning towards the laptop.

  "What's this?" I asked quietly, confused by all of the different windows he had open.

  "It's a few different things. It runs the security system, as well as a few cameras I have placed around town strategically. It's also the only safe way for me to contact Genovese without him figuring out who I am. The guy’s got a lot of soldiers, but not too much brain on his side. They get so selfish, so money hungry that they forget about anything else."

  He chuckled and leaned around me, clicking a few things.

  A few new camera shots popped up, one of them being Alec's club. There, in the dim light I could easily make out Genovese's figure. He was holding a cellphone in one hand, his other hand gripping the table.

  "What's going on?" I tilted my head, watching him grow angrier by the second.

  "He just received the pictures of you from earlier. I know you don't fully understand, but you have an unexplainable effect on him. Here, listen.”

  He adjusted a few things and now there was sound filtering through small speakers next to the laptop. We could clearly hear Genovese scolding someone in Italian. My Italian was decent but I was nowhere near fluent. I furrowed my brows, trying to pick up a few words, before turning to Michael.