“He can’t kill him,” I yelped, certain that a man couldn’t be murdered in cold blood in a public place like this.
“Oh yes, he can,” the young Italian replied very calmly, holding me tight. “And he will.”
I felt all blood drain from my face when I heard the horrific sound of a gunshot. My legs buckled and I started to slide down Domenico’s chest. He held me tighter and called something out. I felt myself being lifted and carried somewhere. The music died, and my body hit soft pillows.
“You like to leave with a bang, don’t you?” I heard Domenico saying and pushing a pill under my tongue. “Now, now, Laura, calm down.”
My heart was pounding like crazy, but soon it started slowing down. Then the door to the room swung open and Massimo barged in, with the gun stuck behind his belt.
He kneeled by my side and stared at me, his face a mask of fear.
“Did you kill him?” I asked in a whisper, praying that he didn’t.
“No.”
I breathed out and turned onto my back.
“I only shot off his hands. He won’t be touching you again,” he replied, getting up and passing the gun to his assistant.
“I want to go back to the hotel. Can I?” I asked, trying to stand up. The mix of the pill with the alcohol made the whole room whirl. I swayed and fell back to the pillows.
The Man in Black held me in his arms and hugged me. Domenico opened the door, through which we went to the back office, then to the kitchen, and finally to the back exit. There was a limo waiting there for us. Massimo stepped in, still holding me in his arms. He placed me in a seat and covered me with his jacket. I fell asleep huddling against him.
I regained consciousness back at the hotel, hearing Massimo fighting with the laces of my boots, swearing like a sailor.
“There’s a zipper on the back,” I whispered, my eyes half closed. “You didn’t actually think anyone would be able to tie those shoelaces each time…”
Massimo raised his eyes and sent me an angry look, pulling the boots from my feet.
“What did you think, coming dressed like a…” He trailed off.
“Finish the sentence,” I growled, irritated, instantly awake. “Like a whore, you mean. Isn’t that what you were going to say?”
The Man in Black balled his fists. His teeth were clenched, and the muscles of his jaw worked.
“You like whores, don’t you? Isn’t Veronica proof of that?”
His eyes grew empty—devoid of emotion. I stopped talking, pursing my lips and waiting for a reply. Massimo didn’t speak, but I could see his knuckles whitening, his fists squeezing tightly. Finally, he shot up and sat astride me, his legs around my hips. He grasped my wrists and lifted my arms above my head, pinning them to the mattress. My chest started heaving frantically as he brought his face close to mine, then thrust his tongue inside my mouth. I moaned, writhing beneath him, but I was not going to fight him this time. I didn’t want to. His tongue pushed inside me, deeper and deeper and harder.
“When I saw you dance…” he whispered, pulling away from me. “Fuck!” He dropped his head, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. “Why do you do this, Laura? Are you trying to prove something to me? Checking my limits? I decide what they are. Not you. Or maybe you want me to take what I desire? If that is so, I’ll do it.”
“I was having a good time. Wasn’t I supposed to have a good time?” I asked. “Now get off me, I need a drink,” I added.
He raised his head, sending me a surprised look.
“You need what?”
“A drink,” I repeated, crawling from under him as he loosened his grip and fell to his side over the mattress. “You’re getting on my nerves, Massimo,” I muttered, and walked over to the table, pouring myself a glass of amber liquid from a carafe.
“Laura, you do not drink spirits. And after taking your medication and all the champagne you’ve had at the club, this is not a good idea.”
“I don’t drink spirits?” I asked, raising the glass. “Watch me, then.”
I tilted the glass and downed it in one gulp. God, it tastes bad, I thought, wincing. My dislike of spirits didn’t stop me from pouring myself another glass. Plodding to the terrace, I turned my head and sent the Man in Black a look. He was watching my little show with his head propped on his arm.
“You’ll regret this, girl!” he called out when I left through the door leading outside.
The evening was wonderful—the heat had dissipated, and the air seemed fresh, even though we were in downtown Rome. I sat on a long sofa and gulped down another sip of my drink. Sometime later, as I finished it, I felt drowsy and sleepy. My head swam. I usually didn’t drink spirits, just like Massimo said. Now I knew why. The spinning in my head made walking difficult—not to mention finding my way through the door. I squeezed one eye shut, focusing hard to appear in control of my body, intending to go back to bed. As gracefully as I was able, I stood up and grabbed the doorframe. Massimo could be watching. An instant later I realized I was right—he was lying in bed with a laptop on his legs. He was naked, not counting the tight-fitting CK boxers. God almighty, he’s too beautiful, I thought as he raised his eyes and looked at me. My drunken brain was suggesting that I slowly drop my clothes, and leave him to himself. I took a step forward, fiddling with the shoulder strap of my dress, letting it slip off. The dress slid down my body and landed on the floor. I wanted to smoothly raise my knee and disappear into the bathroom, but at this point my legs had another idea. My right ankle got tangled in the dress, while my left foot stepped on the fabric. I fell to the carpet with a yelp and burst out in nervous laughter.
Massimo materialized above me, like that first night when I had bumped into him at the club. This time, he didn’t lift me by the elbows, instead taking me tenderly in his arms and laying me on the bed, checking if I had hurt myself in the fall. When my hysterical giggling finally died down, he sent me a worried look.
“Are you all right?”
“Take me,” I whispered, pulling off the last elements of my attire. As the white lace thong slid down to my ankles, I lifted a leg and snatched the piece of underwear between two fingers. “Take me now, Massimo!” I crossed my arms behind my head and spread my legs wide.
The Man in Black sat still, staring at me in his intense way, and a slight smile illuminated his face. He bent over me and kissed me lightly on the lips, covering me with the duvet.
“I told you it was a bad idea for you to drink more. Good night.”
His reaction flustered me. I attacked, lifting an arm to slap him again, but either I was too slow or he was too fast—he caught my wrist and tied it to the pillar of the bed just like he had before, when Veronica had been doing her show. Then he jumped on the bed, and before I knew it, I was strapped to the bed, thrashing wildly.
“Let me go!” I yelled.
“Good night,” Massimo repeated, leaving the room and turning off the light.
I was woken by the summer sun shining through the window. My head was heavy and throbbing with pain, but it wasn’t my biggest problem—I couldn’t feel my hands. What the hell is happening? I thought, my eyes shooting sideways, taking in the straps tying me down. I jerked my hands, but the sound of metal scraping against wood nearly made my brain burst. I wailed silently and took a look around. There was nobody there. I tried remembering what had happened last night, but the only thing I could recall was my pole dance. I groaned, thinking about all the things that must have happened when we got back—Massimo must have gotten what he wanted. How else would I have ended up like this? Now the only thing I could do was die of shame and hangover. A few more minutes of self-pity, and I started to think more logically. I fiddled with the locks with the tips of my fingers, but whoever had designed my trap had made sure that freeing myself on my own was practically impossible.