I'm awake but my eyes are close. I open them slightly but shut them again because of how everything feels.
My wrists hurt, my ankles hurt, my neck hurts, my feet hurts and my head is fucking killing me. I'm so confused as to what is happening or what had happened. I think back to the last time I was conscious. We were going to my parent's house for lunch then....
Oh my fucking god. I'm kidnapped right now.
My eyes snap open and I take in where I am. Im tied to a chair, ropes tightly holding my wrists and ankles in place to where I'm sitting on a metal chair.
I seem to be in a plain room, revealing nothing whatsoever. The walls are coloured white, the door is a metal one and there's just a table here but nothing else.
My skin feels weird with the clothes I'm wearing, I want nothing more than to change into sweats and that one comfy grey t-shirt that's in my wardrobe right now.
I try to look at the back of the room but groan because my neck hurts badly. "Fucking hell." I mutter, my eyes closing again.
Hearing the metal door open and someone come in, my eyes open again. It's the guy who had came out of the car and who I had kicked on the face.
My vision is a bit blurry but as he steps forward he comes in view. When i saw him first, he was wearing a suit, looking professional as fuck but right now he is wearing a full-sleeve black t-shirt with cargo pants.
He has blond hair, soft brown eyes and cheekbones so sharp it could break a brick. I feel like I've seen those eyes before but that's just downright absurd. He lets out a soft sigh and crouches down in front of me. I flinch for no reason.
He seems to catch the moment because his eyes narrow a bit but he doesn't say anything. Gently his hands move on to the rope that has been tightly tied to my left waist.
His finger tips caress my wrist a little, making goosebumps appear all over my skin. The corner of his mouth tilts a little as he saw the reaction.
He faintly the ring on my index finger before he loosen the rope. He does the same with my other wrist and both my ankles. Slight bruises and heavy rope marks show on my skin.
"I ordered them to not hurt you," he informs as he gently rubs his thumb over my wrist and I scoff.
I lean a bit close to him. "Then they shouldn't have kidnapped me," I spit.
He just lets out a hum. His gaze is fixed on my left hand, I'm guessing the marks of the rope on my wrist. But then his fingers softly touches the basic black ring I have on my index and it's then that I realise he has been looking at my ring.
I start staring at it too. It had been given to me by someone I met once. It was the first and the last time I met them. Never again. It's a basic ring that they had given me but I still wore it for unknown reason.
Before my captor's gaze comes back to mine, he faintly touches the cuts I have on my arm and then he stands up. "Some food is going to be brought for you. Eat it." He orders but I ignore him.
"Who are you?" I ask, my eyes narrow.
The corner of his mouth turns up slightly as he says, "you'll know very soon."
"My family will be coming for me," I hiss out in anger which turns into a wince when I feel some pain.
"Oh, trust me. I'm counting on it." This time he fully smile. A smile of the devil. A smile from which nothing good could ever be achieved. It was a sexy smile nonetheless which makes me clench my jaw.
"I have to say, I did not expect you to fight back." He admits making me a little startle.
I scoff. "So what? You expected me to get kidnapped happily? 'Oh! I've been waiting my whole life to be kidnapped and torture, please kidnap me.'" I mocked.
His eyes darkened a bit. "We are not going to torture you, Ella." The way he said it made a shiver go down my spine. He turns around.
"I did not expect you to fight back because you were the easiest target in the entire family." He says.
"Excuse me? For your very kind information, I'm the harder target in the family," I say, a bit offended then remember I'm talking to my kidnapper and curse myself. Fuck me.
"Then how did we kidnap you, sweetheart?" He turns around and says, amusement in both, his eyes and voice.
"Don't call me sweetheart," I snap.
His face reminds blank for a while and he stares at me. I stare back at him. It's like we are participating in a staring contest.
I can't help but feel I have seen those eyes somewhere. They're beautiful. I know I said they're soft brown but there nothing much that is soft about them.
And nothing about the owner of the eyes seems soft either.
"I'll be rescued before you'd even realise it," I state.
He nods. "No, you won't," he simply and calmly replied.
"Yes, I will." I snarled.
"Do you have anger issues?" He inquires with an eyebrow raised. I gape at that.
"Excuse me?!" I gasp, offended.
"I got my answer." He says.
I'm about to something when the door to the room opens abruptly and a girl walks in. She has a pouch in her hand and she walks towards me.
"Matteo," she nods at him before moving her gaze to me. My eyes snap to his.
"Bianca," he nods back.
My captor's name is Matteo. A shiver runs down my entire body. Holy fuck. Don't let this Matteo be the Matteo I think he is. I beg you, god. Please do not.
Even though I had never wanted to be a part of the Mafia, I wasn't clueless as to what happens. I knew about some of the dangerous Mafia leaders, groups and their names but not what they looked like.
Maybe, just maybe he isn't a part of the Mafia and is just the boss of a random group. I pray to god.
Matteo Bianchi is the head of the Italian Mafia. He is what they call a Capo I presume. I've heard Author and Father talk about him a few times but never focused much on it.
From all I could remember, they've always had a feud with the other.
"Matteo Bianchi?" My voice cracks a little as I say his name. Or rather ask.
And the devil smiles giving me the answer. "The one and only."
Then I remember how I kicked him on his jaw. My eyes shut tightly and I want the earth to open up and swallow me.
My eyes open again and I realise, the girl, Bianca, has crouched down in front on me. She's very beautiful, she got brown eyes but they have a little green in them and her hair is the same of Matteo's.
"Hello," she greets politely as she smiles at me with a little sympathy.
"Hi," I whisper but then my gaze goes to Matteo's and again a shiver runs down my spine upon seeing his eyes already on me.
My breathing gets a little hard as I keep my gaze attached to his. I want nothing more than to look away but I simply cannot.
Bianca softly opens the rope tied around my left ankle and picks up my feet to inspect it. "Ah," she whispers.
Opening the pouch she came in with, she takes out a cotton and some kind of brown liquid. One small dip of the cotton in the liquid and then is gently pressed on my feet making me wince.
"Carefully," Matteo warns with a coldness to his voice from where he is standing making me glance at him. He was already looking at me.
"Chill out, Matteo. I'm disinfecting her wounds, it's going burn a little." She says as she shoots him a glare. She pressing the cotton again to my foot and I wince again.
A small growl comes from where my captor is standing.
She rubs the cotton gently on my wounds and I wince again.
"Bianca," he says her name with warning packed around it, scaring me.
Bianca drops the cotton and turns towards him with a scowl on her face. "Get out," she orders.
He raises his eyesbrows. "You heard me, get out unless you don't want me to disinfect her wounds and put something on them to make her feel better."
It looks like he is about to fight his sister and maybe he will. God knows. But then he startles me by turning around and leaving.
"What's his problem?" I ask.
"Lord knows," Bianca shakes her head and then disinfect both my foot. After doing so, she takes out some kind of tube from the pouches and using another cotton, she puts it on my feet.
The cream feels good and cold on my skin, making me feel better than what the cotton and the brown liquid were making me feel. She, then, puts some cream on the marks I have from the rope before tying the ropes again but kinda loosely.
She stops for a moment before shaking her head and untying the rope she just tied.
She does the same for my wrists and puts the cream on the cuts. But she doesn't tie the rope back on my wrists and ankles.
I can't help but think if she is helping me in trying to escape or because of my wounds. She shoots me a soft smile and without saying anything, leaves the room.
A few minutes later I get up from the chair but wince at the pain immediately. Deciding to walk on the heels of my feet, I reach the door and open it.