Captured by the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family 2)

“I’ll have it up here. I suppose you don’t plan on returning my phone?” I challenge.

“You don’t need it right now, and I can’t trust you to behave, so I’ll let you know when you can have it.”

“I have a job, you know?” I lie.

“No you don’t.”

“I did until you kidnapped me.”

“Liar. See, and you expect me to trust that you won’t say a word.” He shakes his head. “I’ll have someone bring up your food. I have work to go do.”

“Whatever. What am I supposed to do while you’re working?”

“Watch TV, shower. One moment. He steps back to the door and grabs two large bags. “I don’t know what’s in here, but these are for you. I had my cousin’s wife pick up the supplies you would need, and I can have a couple of books brought up for you.” I like to pick my own books to read.

“No, the TV is fine.” He leaves with a smirk. I listen as his footsteps fade and then I test the door. It’s locked. Just like I expected—because I’m a prisoner.

I plop on the bed and grab the remote. Maybe I can find a movie to pass the time. As soon as I turn it on, Beauty and the Beast is playing and a rolling laugh bursts through me. Did he plan this? No. It’s on the Disney Channel. A knock at the door startles me, and I jump up off the bed.

“Miss Conlon?” a man’s voice calls through the door, and I can tell it’s not my captor.

“Yes?” You fucking lackey.

“Your breakfast, ma’am.”

An idea crosses my mind as I open the door to see a man in a suit. “So hello,” I say with a purr, arching my back and popping my chest out to show off my large breasts.

“Ma’am, here’s your food, and that’s not going to work on me.”

Can he tell what I’m doing? “What?”

“That flirty act. I’m not trying to die no matter how pretty you are, so please behave while Nero’s out.” Shit. He’s on to me, and apparently Nero has all claims on his prisoner.

Scowling, I snatch the tray out of his hands like a bitch. “Fine. Get lost and lock it back up,” I huff, slamming the door in his face. If that’s the way they’re going to treat me, I won’t be grateful for the food even if it looks better than what I had planned to eat in my car. Damn it, all my snacks are going to waste. What about my car? It’s not anything special, but it has all my clothes in it, and it’s mine.

I’ll have to ask him about getting my things. I set my food on the empty dresser and then examine what he actually gave me: a bottle of orange juice with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon with buttered toast. What the hell? Is this the Hilton?

I snag a piece of toast between my teeth and then pull up a chair to sit near my food while watching the movie. I look at my plate and stare. “Well, aren’t you going to dance?” It doesn’t move. I think I got screwed in this deal. There aren’t even talking dishes. I need to file a complaint.

Still, as I eat, I know one thing: this prison food is good. It’s so tasty that I polish off my entire meal and feel like a glutton afterward.

****

I don’t know when I passed out, but I think it was somewhere in the middle of The Holiday because I started dreaming of my sexy, growling captor. I wake up and find my tray gone. Scanning the room, I don’t see anyone in here, but the damned sun is nearly setting. I’m trying to think of how soon the sun sets in May. Maybe six or seven? I check the TV and see it’s seven-thirty.

“I need some water,” I grumble.

“Coming,” Nero’s deep timber comes from somewhere in the room. I look, and there’s an intercom on the nightstand. That wasn’t there earlier. What the hell?

A minute later, my cell door is opened by the sexy brute in just a plain white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, revealing a tattoo on each arm. Fuck, could he be any hotter? I hate him so damned much.

Okay, I don’t hate him.

I do hate him. What am I thinking? He kidnapped me, but I am in a better situation than I was.

“Here you go.” He hands me the water and turns on his heel, only to stop at the open door. “I’m cooking dinner. Do you want to come out now, or would you like to keep up this petulant attitude?”

“Petulant? You fucking kidnapped me, you asshole,” I shout, crossing my arms.

“Okay, I guess that’s my answer. Dinner will be brought up,” he says with a shrug, closing the door.