Shane snorted. “And you’d trustingly roll up your sleeve to offer me your arm if I asked to give you a shot?”
Mia glared at him. “Bastard.”
“You already said that.” With an audacious wink, he plucked a strawberry from her tray, popped it into his mouth, and strolled to the door. “I’ll see you tonight, Mia.” His tone was rich with anticipation and husky with promise of all the darkly delightful things he was no doubt plotting to do to her. To inflict upon her…
Until she was sobbing his name and begging to come.
The thought left her unsettled and stole her appetite for the bacon, omelet, and fruit waiting on the bamboo tray. She couldn’t stand another night like last night. It had been too much. Too many sensations. Too much anger. Too much desire. Too much violence. It had shown Mia a side of herself she hadn’t known and didn’t like. He disgusted her, so to have her body light up at his touch, to tear into his flesh and bite him until he bled, filled her with self-loathing.
And no small measure of fear. Losing control like that was dangerous. Shane could be addictive. Every instinct screamed at her to avoid him, to escape before he enthralled her in his web of dark desires.
But what if it was too late?
Shaking her head in an attempt to try to clear that uncomfortable though, Mia finally made herself leave the bed. Her stomach still roiled when she looked at the food, but she couldn’t afford to get weak. She nibbled a slice of bacon on her way to the bathroom, where she took a quick shower.
Memories of that first night in the shower stall flashed through her mind, and she bit her lip to keep from crying. Shane had been so rough with her to mark her as his. He wanted her to acknowledge his ownership. He was insane. Just because he said he owned her didn’t make it true. Hurting her in some macho display of territorialism didn’t make her his woman. She would never submit to such a position.
Realizing she was going over the same thoughts she’d already had multiple times in the past few days, Mia washed her hair ruthlessly, using the pain of tugging at her locks to clear her mind. When she emerged from the shower a few minutes later, she met her gaze in the mirror and decided she was going to find a way out today. Another night like last night was impossible to face.
With her resolve in mind, Mia dressed in comfortable clothes, though her underwear was lacy frills and satin, barely held together with glitter and wishful thinking. The hot pink set had actually been among the choices left that provided the most coverage.
With a wistful sigh for her granny panties that Shane hadn’t packed—she had checked but found none of her own clothes amid the possessions he’d brought back—she slipped on socks and flimsy tennis shoes. Considering every other piece in the wardrobe was high-quality, the cheap tennies were suspicious, but she assumed he had chosen them with deliberate thought. Likely, he had assumed they wouldn’t stand up to vigorous use or be practical for scaling steel fences.
Mia returned to her tray, sighing with exasperation at the sight of Clovis eating a strawberry. “You’re a weird cat, man.” She picked up another piece of bacon and the last strawberry. “Being a carnivore, you should go for the bacon. Or the eggs.”
Clovis didn’t look up from his juicy berry, and she sighed again. Mia hesitated for a moment, debating how she should handle the cat’s presence. The idea of leaving him here was horrible. He had been a present from Stefania for her fifteenth birthday, and she loved the quirky feline.
Deciding she was getting ahead of herself, and that she had to find a way out first, she patted his head and left the room. After she figured out a way to escape, she would come back for Clovis before actually leaving.
Mia had been through most of the house the day before, but she noticed a computer in one of the rooms that she had bypassed yesterday. Her heart leapt with excitement, and she mentally reviewed the list of acquaintances she could contact to go to the police on her behalf. Or perhaps she could contact the police directly. Or Tweet that she was being held hostage and wait for that to be endlessly retweeted until someone finally took it seriously and called the cops.
She sighed with annoyance at the request for a password. Mia had grown up with technology, and she wasn’t too intimidated. At first. After several attempts, she was feeling more frazzled. Shane definitely employed some kind of high-tech encryption software to block access. Had he always been so cautious, or had he installed it before kidnapping her?
On her tenth attempt to bypass the system, the screen flickered before a message appeared. Give up, Mia.
Anger surged through her, and she pounded her fist on the desk. It took every ounce of control not to lift the monitor and throw it down as hard as she could onto the thick carpeting. “Fuck you, Shane O’Mara.” She glared at the screen as though he could actually see her through the monitor that very moment. “You haven’t won, and you won’t.”
More determined than ever, she left the house and explored the grounds. Mia walked around the perimeter of the fence, ignoring the goons on their regular patrol. She could find no vulnerabilities. Trying to remain optimistic, she entered the wooded area on the outskirts of the property, annoyed to find that the fence extended around it as well.
The trees and a nearby stream were peaceful, but they had a claustrophobic effect. It was another variation of a prison. Her heels dragged with discouragement by the time she left the woods and approached the stables. Mia didn’t expect to find escape in the building housing the horses; she just wanted the comfort of being near the equines.
Mia walked the stalls, smiling at the horses and talking sweetly, though her heart wasn’t in it. The six horses were magnificent, and she would have loved riding any in other circumstances, but even the familiar sight and scent of horseflesh couldn’t cheer her.
She paused near a white filly, holding out her hand to the skittish horse. After a moment, she warily approached, accepting a pat on her velvety nose before prancing away. The filly reminded Mia of the horse she’d had when Stefania was alive. They had gone to the stables every weekend to ride and spend time bonding. It had started when Stefania married her father and Mia had been an awkward twelve-year-old. Having a new stepmother she’d barely known sprung on her hadn’t been easy, and she had been unwelcoming.
It hadn’t taken Mia long to realize Stefania was the first person who had ever really cared about her. She supposed her birth mother must have in her own way, but she’d been a heroin addict and had overdosed—or deliberately killed herself—when Mia was six. Being married to a man like Vadim explained Olga’s need to escape, but that didn’t ease the pain of Mia not being important enough to be worth getting clean and making a new life.
She had soon appreciated the motherly attention Stefania bestowed and came to love her. The marriage had given her the mother she’d always wanted. Despite everything else that had come from the union, she couldn’t regret having known Stefania, even if it meant Aldo was part of her life, too.
Thinking of him made her shudder and it led her thoughts back to Shane. Desperation filled her, and as the daylight dwindled, her dread increased. Even knowing it was futile, she decided to search the house once more. If nothing else, maybe she could find a weapon. When Mia returned, she went to the areas she had only cursorily examined yesterday and earlier today.
She spent another two hours trying to find something to help her. Panic clawed at her insides like a beast when she slipped into the basement. Her rational mind knew there would be no escape from the room. He’d made preparations before taking her. Still, she inched her way forward, using the dim illumination from strip lights edging the ceiling to guide her.
Mia came to a smaller room and opened the door to slip inside. It was dark, but she found the switch and flicked it on. Rows and rows of wine bottles surrounded her. Some of them were dusty with age. Curious, she pulled out a long-necked green bottle with gold foil around the cork. The label and vintage meant little to her. She had worked at Lovelle’s since she was seventeen, when Stefania arranged the position for her, but she had never learned much in the way of sommelier duties.
Hopelessness filled her and she sank to the floor, absently holding the heavy bottle. With a thunk, she set it on the hardwood planks, drew her knees up to her chest, and buried her face against her arms.
There was no escape. Shane had taken her and would keep her until his interest waned. At that point, he might let her go to maintain goodwill with her Bratva father, or he might murder her and feed her to the pigs.
