004

TESSA

I squinted my eyes open and realized I was still in the dimly lit room. I lay on the large, comfortable bed with my hands and legs tied up and a tape plastered over my mouth. My body felt light, like a feather, and every time I wriggled, I felt funny, like I was a spirit. Like I was high on drugs. I tried to scream, but it came out muffled.

I was kidnapped by some rather composed rogue guys. I had woken up before and tried to escape but ended up hitting one of the bad men on the head, and now I was awake and in this position.

I wondered how long I'd been kidnapped for. Was it up to two days? Andrew and Zara must've realized that by now and reached out to the police.

I lay still and looked around the room. I couldn't see clearly because of the lighting, but from what I could deduce from trying to escape and looking now, it was an opulent and beautiful mansion. But unlike the modern penthouse, it was an ancient one. Like in the times of um… Romeo and Juliet? I don't know, like a castle with stone walls and pillars and ancient portraits.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the massive door unlock. I lay still, panic and anger seething through me as I stared in the direction of the door.

When it was pushed open, four men in black walked into the room and stood in different positions like it was rehearsed. Then another man walked in, and the air in the room shifted.

He looked powerful, cold, like he was the boss, but he was young. Maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. Not sure.

“Why is she tied up?” He asked coldly as if trying to be civil as to not scare me.

“Boss, she was violent and tried to escape. The men had to tie her up to keep her still,” one of the men spoke, keeping his gaze down.

The boss was still glaring at him before on intuition he walked over and untied me.

I remained calm and watched the boss take his seat on a couch opposite the bed. He was tall, not too tall, and had black, glossy hair that was combed all back. He was dressed in black too; his shirt, with it's sleeves folded halfway, did little to hide his broad chest and strong build. His facial features were immaculate. He was devastatingly handsome yet dangerous, and an uneasy part of me felt he was familiar.

I sat up at the edge of the bed, still staring at him, his familiarity hitting me harder.

“Who are you? And why am I here?” I asked calmly, trying not to mirror the banging of my heart behind my chest.

“I am Don Pierre Riccardo, yours truly. Why are you here? Because you're mine, and I've taken you back,” he said plainly, without emotion, and I stared, jaw dropped, at the man claiming to be Pierre.

I laughed bitterly. So many things were wrong about this delusional man. My Pierre wasn't a mafia don. He wasn't covered in tattoos. He had scattered brown hair and the softest eyes that matched his gentle nature. He didn't look dangerous, and even if he had grown, his change wouldn't be this… massive and transforming.

“You're delusional. I don't know who you are or what you mean by ‘you've taken me back,’ but you'd better let me go, or else—” I spat out.

“I’m not being delusional, Tess. It's me, your Pierre. You've really forgotten me, so it's hard to recognize my face. I can't lie, I'm hurt by that,” he said trying to remain calm, and I could see that tiny glint of hurt in his eyes.

“Why did you kidnap me?” I asked as I stood up, and the other men became alert.

“Don't touch my woman,” Pierre warned as he lifted his pointer finger in the air.

“Answer me!” I barked at him, and one of the other men, who looked a bit older than Pierre, signaled for the rest of the men to follow him outside, leaving just I and Pierre in the room.

“Don't raise your voice to me, love. I have thin patience,” he said.

“Exactly. I know only one Pierre, and you're nothing like him,” I spat out again.

“Do you want me to prove to you that I'm the Pierre you know?” He asked, pushing up from the sofa, and slowly closing the distance between us.

I could smell his masculine perfume. Elegant, domineering, and sinfully intoxicating.

He undid his belt and pulled the waist of his trousers down, revealing a birthmark on his pelvic groin. I stared down at it in astonishment. He was Pierre. My Pierre.

I shook my head in disbelief and tried to move back, but I fell back on the bed behind me.

“Let me go!” I cried as I shook my head, still looking at him. I couldn't believe what he had turned into. He wasn't like this, and I'd never accept him like this. I should have been happy to see him after so long, to see my first love, after losing him to a night of cries and watching him being dragged away. I should have been happy, but my heart stabbed painfully at the guilt of not being happy.

“Please. I don't want to be here. Let me go. If my best friend and fiancé find—” My sentence was cut short by Pierre's firm hand grabbing my cheeks and pushing me to lie on the bed.

He trembled angrily as he growled menacingly over my face, “How dare you?! How dare you disrespect me like that? How dare you speak about that bastard in my presence? You promised you were going to wait for me, and I understand if you couldn't, but getting married while my heart bled for you over here?”

Tears slid down my face as I tried to release his grip from my face, and his eyes softened with realization. He quickly stepped away from me, regret washed over his face. I sat up and looked at him, trying to figure him out.

He looked so angry. Furious, like a beast. And as if sensing I could read him, he looked away to hide his ugly reaction from me.

“You’re mine, Tessa. Only mine. If you ever speak about the other man again, I'll send you his head in a casserole dish.”

My eyes widened at his words, and I began crying profusely again.

He walked out of the room and shut the door behind him, and I heard the locks click again.