Chapter 2

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I wake up to the soft lighting through the curtains. The sound to impatient fingers tapping on furniture startles me. I squint past the open window and glance at the large mirror.

I rub my eyes wearily.

He stood there on the other side of the bed, just as pristine as he was last night.

"What the hell are you doing in here," I questioned him.

"This is my palace. I can be anywhere I want."

"Are you always this annoying?" I grunt.

I slowly unraveled myself from the sheets. I looked down at my exposed legs, while I pull myself to sit upright. I was in a piece of silk, something like a dress. It was too short to call a gown, and too long to call it an undergarment.

"My clothes," I whisper.

"You fell asleep. I had the maid free you and change your clothes."

I glare at him. All I wanted to do was go home. He had no business of abducting me from the airport, before I could even gather all of my things.

"Your suitcases are here," he continues, as if he read my mind. "Get dressed and meet me downstairs for breakfast."

At this point I don't know if I was a hostage, or a guest. "I still don't know why you have me here," I mumble.

"You don't need to know, and as long as you don't bother me about it, you will be taken care of properly. If you need anything while you're here, you can ask Dante." He says. Before I could question him on who Dante was, he slammed the door.

My blood boiled every time he showed up. Everything he said made me want to slap him. He still won't tell me why he has me here, but he expects me to just abide by his words. What was I? Some dainty little porcelain doll?

I missed my Mama. My father had an extreme tendency to play around with women. He was the obvious cheating type. I was about 3 years old when my mother decided to divorce my father and take me and move out. So I grew up in London.

So as my parents had decided, I had to return back to Italy. I actually have no objection to being kidnapped. After all that my Mama told me about my father, I had no intentions of being near him.

But this Victor. He has done me some good. I still want to slap him. His aggression and cocky attitude makes me want to knock every single one of his pearly teeth out.

It's something that I feel very passionate about at the moment. If I disclose it though, I may not live to see the next day.

I trudge towards my suitcases carefully lain across the floor.

I have no choice.

<~~~~>

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