PRESLEY
I'd watched countless crime shows and movies about a loved one being held hostage and negotiation, and in this moment, they all seemed so trivial. Insignificant.
I could almost hear the thump of my heart inside my chest, pounding, rushing, and roaring with blood as I kept my gaze focused on Silvio.
He'd been knocked out by the assailant who held a gun against my head earlier and shot in the shoulder.
And even as I watched him now in the dim light, I could barely keep myself from wanting to rush over, and make sure he was still breathing—that he even had a pulse.
Memories of earlier rushed into my mind; I heard the door slam shut and the flicker of the lock after Silvio left only to hear the same flicker a few second later.
I knew I didn't stand a chance when I saw it was a class-duo of idiots. Two fucking men. Perhaps if it was only the scrawny little one, I could have made a run for it.
My gaze narrowed at the young man bent down in front of me, tying the knot around my legs and wrist in an intricate knot.
I winced slightly when he pressed his thumb against my pulse, jerking away from his touch.
His sheepish brown eyes widened. "Shit. Did I hurt you?"
"Don't touch me." My voice was cold, almost frozen over and coarse. "If you're going to kill me, do it."
"Kill you?" He was taken-back by my choice of words, glancing down once more to adjust the tied rope around my wrist. "Why would I do that, Pres? I love you. I would never hurt you." The words were nothing but short of a mumble.
My jaw clenched of their own accord at the nickname that was only reserved for close friends and family. "Then let me go."
"Rufus!" A deep, masculine voice called out from the door. The boy immediately jumped to his feet, jerking back like he'd been slapped in the face.
Fear gripped his entire body, his head tilted to the side to lock gaze with the man. "You're not supposed to talk to her, you know that."
"Just making sure she won't run anyway, Marco." He responded with a small nod, shot me a quick glance, and smiled.
The man supposedly named Marco didn't say anything, only grunted in response and disappeared towards the front door. I didn't understand why they hadn't killed me off by now or Silvio. If that was even the plan.
I knew Marco shot Tommaso and stuffed him into the closet and this Rufus guy was supposed to watch us while Marco went off to do something else. I recognized this dynamic duo of Rufus being submissive in this group and Marco being dominant and in control of this whole operation.
I glanced back a bit to look at him, pondering the thought of him being a familiar figure. I couldn't remember where I'd seen him, but he looked familiar—almost like we'd passed each other briefly but I couldn't figure it out for the life of me.
"You changed your hair again." Rufus' low voice murmured all of a sudden. I inhaled a sharp breath as we locked eyes. Those eyes. Cold, dark, and familiar.
The same eyes I'd seen watching me from a distance. The same dark eyes that I encountered that day in the dressing room.
And now, he was standing here in full glory and even with a ski mask on, I couldn't shake off the paralyzing feeling that gripped me and took control of my body's defense systems.
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Christ. He was the one. The stalker.
I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. It was like a boulder of rock had formed in my throat, robbing me of the ability to speak. When I didn't respond, he took it as an invitation to begin another conversation.
"Do you love him?" His voice was tight, almost choked up like it ached to spit those words out.
I gazed into those deceitful dark eyes of his, my mouth thinned into a straight line as I refused to answer.
He let out a humorless laugh as he paced back and forth in front of the coffee table. "You know we had a good thing going on, Presley. We were happy together. You would come into the coffee shop every morning, smile at me, give me your attention and you loved me. And then you left me, moved across the world to be with him."
"Look, Rufus—"
"Everything was perfect until he came into the picture. You married him, let him touch you and I warned you. I warned you." He repeated once more, shaking his head and tapping his foot adamantly against the carpet.
Past memories slammed into me, nudging me awake and alert. He actually believed I was in love him. "Do you still love him?"
My chest ached a painful note as I snuck a quick glance towards Silvio. He was stirring awake, groaning, and grunting in pain. "
Rufus." I murmured shakily, forcing him to meet my gaze. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he glanced at Silvio. One. Two. A glide of his fingertips across the heavy metal in his waistband.
Chills rushed through me, the imitation of cold breeze against my skin even though I knew the heat was cracked all the way up.
I forced myself to speak, say something—anything because I had a suspicious feeling that given the chance, Rufus would empty a bullet into Silvio's brain.
My voice was shaky, almost a whisper as I murmured, "You're right." He digested my words in slowly, breathing out an exhaled sigh. "I did love you—I do love you, Rufus."
"Then—"
My gaze flickered towards a disoriented Silvio, dark brows slanted downward and green eyes filled with questions.
Regardless I continued my spew of lies I'd concocted, "I had to marry him for protection. The messages, pictures... were those you?"
"No," he said as quickly as the accusation had fallen from my lips. An adamant shake of his head and a sigh. "It was Marco. He wanted to hurt you physically to get back at him, but I didn't want you to get hurt. I couldn't stop him from sending those pictures though."
He spat out, the hatred coating the edges of his voice. "And then we almost got caught and had to cover our tracks using another decoy."
Ah, that's what everything was about. Marco had a bone to grind out with Silvio and Rufus believed I was in love with him.
Though I doubted Rufus would have attempted to hurt Silvio on his own if Marco wasn't the devil on his shoulder, dragging and binding him into his plan.
I didn't know if Silvio had a plan but judging from his eerily calm composure, I knew this wouldn't end too well. He was usually silent, but I could feel the rage building up inside of him, swirling and bubbling over the top.
He was all clenched jaw, stormy green eyes, and heavy breaths. He didn't say anything, only kept his gaze focused on me almost like he was checking for any injuries.
