Chapter 4 4

Arie

My head is pounding. My eyes stinging. My ears ringing.

An unfamiliar and uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as a strange smell fills my nose. A mixture of gasoline and dirt, caused a wave of nausea to wash over me.

A deep chuckle which sounded like it came from behind me, instantly has me on high alert and my eyes open fully. It's only then that I realize I'm not at home anymore.

To be honest, I don't know where I am. A dark grey wall is directly in front of me, with a small window to the right, allowing a small amount of sunlight through.

A bright light hangs loosely above my head, making me squint as I look up at it. Where the hell am I?

I glance down to see my hands and it's only then that I realize they're tied behind my back. A sense of panic and adrenaline rushes through my body and I pull harshly on whatever restraints are keeping my hands together, but they won't budge.

"It's about time you decided to join us." A voice says and I turn my head from left to right, trying to see who it is.

"What did you do to me?" I ask as I continue squirming in the chair I appear to be tied down to. "Who are you? Where am I?"

The man walks around the room, appearing in front of me and my eyes widen when I recognize him being one of the men who followed me home.

"Oh, so many questions." He groans in a mocked tone, throwing his head back as he slowly steps towards me with his hands in his pockets.

His voice is heavily accented. What is that? Italian maybe?

"Such a pretty face." He murmurs as his finger trails over my skin, down to my mouth as I squirm against him. "What a waste."

He pulls on my hair tie, causing my long blonde hair to fall out of it and down around my shoulders. I flinch when he moves his hand towards my hair and runs his fingers through it.

He says something under his breath before stepping away from me. I release a shaky breath as I try to pull on my restraints again but realize there's no use. The rope is just burning my skin every time I try to pull and I can feel it growing tighter.

He looks away from me as if he's looking at someone else behind me. "She wants to take pictures of us, Domenico." The man taunts me as he offers a sadistic smile, his tattooed hand coming up to my face callously, making me feel extremely uncomfortable. "You like taking pictures, mhm?"

I move my face to the side in the hopes of causing his hand to slip away from my face, but it doesn't work. He just grips me more forcefully.

"These blue eyes," he murmurs. "Look at them, Domenico." He adds as he forces my head to the side so that the other man can see.

I squirm against him, muffled noises escaping my mouth and nose as I try to rid my skin of his foreign touch.

"Imagine these beautiful blue eyes looking up at me while you're on your knees. Now that would be a nice sight." He continues as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Get off me." I snap as I move my head back abruptly.

He narrows his eyes, standing up straight and laughing at me. "There it is. Knew you had that feistiness inside you somewhere."

This man is sick.

He looks up at the ceiling before rolling his lips together and reaching into his pocket. I watch as he takes out his phone and unlocks it, bending down in front of me again.

"You want to take pictures?" He snaps as he grips my jaw with his hand. "Then let's take some fucking pictures."

He holds his phone up in front of us and clicks on the camera, allowing me to catch a glimpse of us on the screen.

"Say cheese!" He taunts me as he snaps a few pictures of us, squeezing his fingers around my jaw so tightly, that I can almost taste blood in my mouth from the pressure of my teeth against the inside of my cheeks.

Another second passes before he pushes my head to the side as he moves away from me, laughing to himself.

"Don't go jerking off to those later, you sick fuck." The other man, Domenico I presume, comments and the man in front of me says nothing back, instead snickering to himself as he flicks through the photos, purposely adjusting the front of his pants as though to make a point.

He puts his phone back into his pocket and folds his arms across his chest. I don't even have to look at him to know his eyes are trailing themselves over me.

"So, you little bitch. Why were you taking pictures of us? Are you a spy?" He snaps and my brows furrow.

Does he think I'm a spy?

When I don't respond, he grabs hold of my face again, forcing me to look at him. "Tell me you little puttana or I'll kill you right now."

"That's enough!" A loud voice booms, making me jump and causing the man in front of me to release his grip on my jaw and step away from me immediately.

I don't look up at whoever has just entered the room. Instead keeping my eyes closed as I grimace at the ache in my jaw from the pressure of that man's hand around it.

Even though I'm not physically looking, it's more than evident that the atmosphere has completely changed in the room. It's as though the Queen of fucking England has just entered the room and everyone has stopped to bow to her or something.

My eyes slowly open but I keep them down, not wanting to make any more eye contact with anyone else.

"Che diavolo sta succedendo qui?" The same person says, but in another language which causes me to arch a brow.

[translation: what the hell is going on here?]

"Niente Don, stiamo solo cercando di farla parlare." The man from before replies and I just know from the tone of his voice, even without understanding what he said, that he was lying through his teeth.

[translation: nothing don, we're just trying to get her to talk]

I feel the man who has just entered the room step closer to me and his shoes eventually come into view. Black slacks hug his long legs but I don't dare to look up any further.

"Leave." He orders the man who was taunting me. He doesn't say anything, instead listening to what he's been told and instantly leaving the room. "You too Domenico."

Both men now leave the room and the door closes behind them. Two sets of footsteps echo around the room, alerting me that there is someone else in here with us as well as the man who just threw those other men out.

I watch as his shoes stop directly in front of me, his hands dropping to his sides momentarily. My head lifts another inch, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his tattooed hands and the rings that fit them.

"What's your name?" He asks, his voice also accented but not as much as the other man's.

"Arie," I tell him quietly, some strands of hair falling from my shoulder and in front of my face.

"And why were you taking pictures of us, Arie?" He questions.

I shake my head, "I wasn't. Not intentionally anyway."

"But you did." He retorts, taking a step closer to me. "So if you have taken a picture, in which I'm visibly conducting something illegal, and decide to keep said picture, that would mean you would own some very incriminating evidence against me."

My heart is beating so fast in my chest that I'm concerned it might explode. Who the hell are these men and where am I? How did I even get here?

"But I'm sure that a wise, responsible girl like yourself wouldn't have anything of the sort against me now, hm?" He continues in a derisive tone.

I know exactly what he's trying to say. He's telling me in lame terms that I should just forget that I ever took the picture and delete it completely. I'm not stupid.

Doing what he wants, I shake my head, keeping my eyes locked firmly on the ground below me.

"Look at me." He orders and I don't wait for him to ask me again, cautiously lifting my head and anxiously looking up at him.

When I meet his eyes, I notice a strange sense of familiarity in them. I recognize his face from somewhere. Perhaps I've just seen him around the city before - after all, New York is a pretty big place.

The dark, thick stubble around his jaw, his jet black hair, and dark eyebrows. Long black lashes, chestnut colour eyes, tan skin. His Adam's Apple bobs up and down as he studies me closely, causing me to feel increasingly uneasy.

"Why am I tied up? Where am I?" I ask and he tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking down to my arms which are pulled round behind my back.

"I guess you couldn't be trusted without any restraints." He simply comments.

"Why am I here?" I ask, my voice almost breaking as a lump begins to grow in the back of my throat.

He brings his hand up to his jaw, running his fingers along his stubble. "I told you. Your camera." He replies.

He turns on his feet and retreats towards the door in which he entered. "Wait! Where are you going?!" I call out.

He glances over his shoulder, stopping by the doorway. "To get a drink." He responds. "I think it's going to be a long night."