Kidnapped

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN PART II

-TATUYANNA TORRONO >

I woke up with a satisfied sigh leaving my lips, my arms stretching above my head when I flinched at the sudden muscle pain all over my body. It was as if I'd been tortured in my sleep. "What the hell," I mumbled, rolling out of a bed that most definitely was not mine.

My eyes fully adjust to my unknown surroundings and I also realize I have no clothes on. As soon as I take a step, an excruciating raw feeling between my legs made my brows knit as I suddenly had anxiety creeping up my stomach. I haven't felt that kind of pain in a long while.

Searching for the nearest bathroom, opening random doors and finally walking into one and toward the mirror, I gasp.

The fading dark print of a huge hand around my throat made my eyes widen. Multiple horrifyingly big and small sizes of hickeys appear before me, trailing down my neck onto my chest down until my abdomen. "What the hell happened last night?" I whispered to myself.

I can't remember a thing.

Deciding to put my mind and nerves at ease, I got into the shower, moaning when the hot boiling water eased the muscles of my body. But it was as if that personal sound of mine triggered a single scene in my memory. A scene where I saw myself under the man I declared to put a leash on.

As it seems, he's the one to have wrapped a printed collar around my neck with his hand. How in the hell am I going to hide this?

Multiple flashes go through my mind, it makes me dizzy. It's all crashing back into my memory.

He had gripped me by the jaw, forcing me to look into his eyes as I came undone. The mere image makes my space hot with more need.

It was then that my stomach dropped.

We did it. He and I. . .

My thoughts race some more and I hurriedly finished my routine in the bathroom, realizing then that I didn't bring any clothes with me. I decided to wear the large midnight blue robe that hung on the door, walking out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom.

I could hear movement downstairs. The clash of pots or pans, or both.

By the looks of it, I'm still at Rico's place. It hits me that I did not arrive alone yesterday. My heart pounds against my ribcage when I realize I've forgotten someone.

I'm picking up clothes off of the floor and sofa, looking for my phone, and dialling Aless' number right after I find it. It's 9 in the morning, she must be pissed. Her phone rings and I run a hand through my curls, simultaneously biting my lip as I waited.

"You fucking asshole."

I cringe. "I'm so sorry." I've never heard her cuss so much in a single sentence.

"I was worried sick! Do you know how long I was looking for you? And it's not like you're very social, so NO ONE KNEW WHERE YOU WENT EITHER!"

I close my eyes, ashamed. "Aless." I sigh, hearing her scold me some more in Italian, some words leaving me confused. "Well, I'm sorry, something. . . Unexpected kept me busy." I drawl, covering my mouth when I felt my cheeks heat.

"Spill."

I feel like flinging myself off of the balcony. "How did you get home last night?"

"Spill, slut."