* * *
It’s been twenty-four hours since Aria has disappeared. The thing about having money and connections is that when you need strings to be pulled, they get pulled. I have law enforcement checking into the cameras near the park. Rome and Caesar have flown out and are making calls. I’m calling in every favor owed to me.
“We found her!” Johnny pulls an image up on the computer. “Miami PD was able to confirm with facial recognition, this is Aria.” I lean in closer to the zoomed-in photo and see her. She’s being carried by a man, her head hanging back like she’s passed out, her bare feet dangling.
“Who the fuck is carrying her?”
“He’s wearing a mask.”
“Zoom in here.” I point to his forearm, which is wrapped around Aria’s thigh as he carries her bridal style down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. Johnny hits a few buttons and the picture, blurry as fuck, appears closer. The word is in black against his white skin: Lorenzo.
“Fuck, Boss.”
“Sebastian has her.” I pick up my phone and call the one man who can help me get her back. “Dad, I need you. Sebastian Lorenzo has Aria.”
“We’ll get her back, Son. But once we do…”
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I let her go.
“Yeah, I got it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
ARIA
The only drug I’ve taken in the last six months has been my anti-anxiety meds, and even those, thanks to my psychiatrist, have been lowered to a mild dose and are only taken when needed. Sebastian Lorenzo has shot me up with enough heroin in the time he’s had me, that I’m not even sure if I’m awake or asleep, alive or dead, but I’m not complaining because as I lie in the bed he has me tied to, as he spreads my legs for the fifth maybe sixth time since I woke up here, I’m grateful that the drugs are running through my system to numb the pain. I can feel the tears running down the sides of my face, hitting my ears.
“Open your fucking eyes, bitch!” A slap against my sex has me jumping up slightly and opening my eyes. With the two black eyes he’s given me, his face is blurry but I can see the anger and disgust in his glare. “The senator made me a promise of twenty million dollars and since he’s dead thanks to your fucking boyfriend, you’re going to pay me.” I don’t bother responding. I’ve already tried to explain to Sebastian I don’t have access to that sort of money. The sale of the shares was close to five million dollars. I offered that to him for him to let me go and he spat in my face. My eyes roll back in my head as my mind fights to escape.
When Weston used to rape me, I’d use my mom as well as my childhood memories as an escape, but now that Gio has become a huge part of my life and my heart, my mind immediately goes to him. My goal has been to not think about Gio. I refuse to let Sebastian take those memories away from me, but the more my body breaks down, the harder he hits me, the more terrified I become that I just might not make it to see another day, and that thought has me wanting to remember Gio, has me wanting to die with only the memories of our love in my head and heart.
Of our trip to the Bahamas. The way he would smile just for me. I mentally replace Sebastian’s slaps and grabs with the gardens at the mansion. Of the art exhibit that now feels like years ago. I try to keep my thoughts on the day he found me in the basement, his promise to protect me. I remember the first time he told me he loved me. I wish I could die right here and now with the memories of him all around me.
Sebastian jerks away from me, jolting me from my only safe space—my mind. I’m thrust into the present. I can feel everywhere he’s violated me. Everything hurts. It’s as though my body no longer belongs to me. The only thing he can’t ever take is my mind. He hasn’t even backed up before I’m throwing up acid all over myself and the bed.
“You dumb slut!” Sebastian slaps me across the face. “Now you can lay in your own filth.” He slams the door behind him and I close my eyes, praying that he kills me and gets it over with.
I’m not sure how long I’m asleep when I hear the door swing open. My eyes snap open and I see Gio stalking toward the bed—a sudden sense of déjà vu hitting me. For a split second, I wonder if I’m dreaming. He scoops me up into his arms and memories of him doing this very same thing six months prior hits me hard. “Are you real?” I hear myself asking.