The Mafia Saved Me [SAMPLE BOOK]

Chapter 16 [SAMPLE]

POV Victoria

It's the next day, and I'm lying in bed, unwilling to get up.

The memories from last night remain with me. Particularly how Leo apologized to me with intense sincerity, and looked at me as if seeing me in pain hurt him. The mere thought of these things causes a turnover in my stomach.

I know the constant fluttering and nervousness I feel toward him isn't normal. The events of my kidnapping have left me vulnerable, and I can only assume the little flutters toward Leo are because he saved me. But as worrisome as these warm feelings are, I like them and don't want them to stop, which tells me I have lost my mind.

I drag a hand down my face and turn over on my side, pressing my face into the cold pillow.

When I rise, I notice a pile of clothes on the nightstand. There's a little paper on top, and I grab the note. My heart rate increases with an eagerness to read it, and I find myself smiling as I trace the black ink of Leo's elegant handwriting.

I thought you might want some real clothes.

PS Everything is new.

Leo

I put the note aside and lift the simple knitted long-sleeve black dress. When I do, a set of matching undergarments falls out. The sight of the undergarments reminds me of what I'm wearing under the t-shirt. Disgust settles in my stomach, and my skin crawls with an irritation.

I approach the bathroom adjoined to the bedroom. My mouth drops at the enormity of it.

To the left, I notice a walk-in closet. Inside is an array of expensive suits. Leo's scent is thick in the air.

This is his room.

There's a pang in my chest, and I can't help but feel like a burden.

I suck in an unsteady breath, exit the closet, and see my reflection in the mirror. I gasp at the sight of the dark bruises littering my face and neck. They look worse than when I last saw them.

My fingertips are gentle on the bruised skin, but I still feel a sharp pain when I touch them. Tears cloud my vision, and they don't stop falling when I see myself in the white lace. All I see is a price tag instead of undergarments. Crying uncontrollably, I take off the lingerie, rip them into shreds, and toss them into the trash.

While showering, I try to wash away the unwanted memories of my kidnapping. But no matter how hard I scrub, I can still feel my abusers' burning lips on my body and their filthy hands slithering up my thighs.

The memories are too painful, and every time I close my eyes, it's as if I'm back in that room.

There's a hatred toward my body growing inside me, and I can do nothing to make the pain disappear.