Nino Falcone
It's been nearly a week since I've been held captive in this mansion, and every passing day, my resolve to find an escape route kept fading. Like clockwork, every day around lunchtime, Ava, Hope's niece, paid me a visit and talked about things that would interest a one-year-old. Hope was always in the room too, maybe still concerned that I might harm the child. It's a flaw in her kidnapping that i could take advantage of, but something in me prevents me from doing so, perhaps because of my own past. Hope got me a few pairs of clothing to wear during my stay here, but I prefer not to wear a shirt. Sometimes, I can feel Hope's eyes on my tattoos, but it's not entirely one-sided. When she's not paying attention, I found myself looking at her too. She often wore either crop tops that reveal her toned abs or baggy hoodies. I had to make an effort to keep my expression neutral when she caught me looking.
A part of me wishes I had met her in different circumstances, so I wouldn't have to grapple with the fact that I'm her captive and that her best friend is my brother's . Sometimes, I found myself wanting to pull her into my arms and hold her close, which felt strange since I've never felt that way towards anyone before. Just a week ago, I wanted nothing to do with her; in fact, I even despised her for threatening my brother with what I believed were empty warnings. I'm not sure what changed in such a short time, but now I saw her in a different light. Perhaps it's because I'd never encountered a woman who wasn't afraid of me at all. Or maybe it's because she managed to kidnap me from what I thought was the safest place in all of Las Vegas: my own mansion.
After Ava's mother came to take her away for some quality time with her dad, one day, Hope headed towards the bed and picked up the empty pizza box, intending to leave. Before I could fully process my actions, I reached out and took hold of her hand. She turned back, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She seemed genuinely stunned that I had initiated any form of interaction. I don't blame her. I've been avoiding her for the past week, hoping that my mild interest in her would simply fade away.
I gazed at her for a moment before releasing my grip and apologizing for stopping her. I shouldn't have done that; I'm being held captive here. I lay back in bed with my back turned to her. I could feel her eyes on me for a few moments before she turned around and walked away closing the door behind her.
Once again, I found myself lost in my own thoughts. Gathering my resolve, I made my way to the door to check if it was unlocked, which it was. Descending the stairs, I noticed Hope and her brother engaged in conversation, though I couldn't discern the details. After they concluded their discussion, Dean headed towards his wing, leaving Hope leaning against the counter, wearing a defeated expression. Stepping forward, I approached her. As she glanced up at me, her neutral mask returned to her face.
"You left the door unlocked. Isn't that dangerous?"
"It's not like you'll succeed at whatever you're planning."
"I'm not planning anything. I came down to see if I could get some more water."
She directed me to the rightmost cupboard where the glasses was kept. Filling one with water, I leaned against the counter beside her, our hands nearly touching. As she glanced up at me, I sensed a profound sorrow reflected in her eyes.
I maintained my silence beside her. After five to ten minutes passed, Hope's phone began to ring, the unfamiliar song filling the air with its angelic singer's voice. She glanced at the call notification and then turned her gaze towards me.
"It's your brother."