Page 72 of Becoming His Pet

Bernie didn’t comehome for lunch like the maid had told Nora. But another tray of food did appear around noon. A salad and soup combo.

It went untouched, just like the scrambled eggs from breakfast.

Night began to fall outside, the sun set, and the street lights below turned on. As far as she could tell, her room sat on the twelfth floor. Jumping out the window obviously would be a bad choice.

Grunting her frustration at the situation, she went back to pacing the room and worrying about Greg. Someone had to have found him on the highway and helped him. He was bound to be tucked away in a hospital bed somewhere being treated.

And while convincing herself he was at least safe made her feel a little better, it did nothing to improve her mood about her own situation.

Could Bernie have been right? Was Greg working with the government to take down the Santinelli family?

If he had been, he would have told her. Greg was damn clear on truth and lies, he wouldn’t have kept that from her. Especially since she didn’t know anything about the family other than wanting to find out the truth about her father.

He wouldn’t have kept that from her.

Unless he was using her to get in contact with the family. Maybe he thought he could use her as leverage to get inside and get information.

Nothing seemed clear anymore!

Obviously, Bernie wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. She’d seen him as an uncle growing up, and after her father died, he’d been there for her. But an uncle wouldn’t lock her up in his penthouse and hurt the people she loved.

Flopping herself on the bed, she clenched her eyes shut. Did she love Greg? If she had loved him, wouldn’t she have trusted him? Given him a chance to explain what Bernie was telling her? Wouldn’t she have listened to him and stayed with him?

The problem was she did trust him. She completely believed in him, and knew whatever Bernie was telling her about him was an out and out lie. Going with Bernie hadn’t been about choosing him over Greg. It had been to keep Greg and his family safe.

She’d caused him enough trouble. He had been hiding something, that phone call still played over and over in her mind, but she knew he would have an explanation. If she’d given him the chance to tell her.

“Still haven’t eaten.” Bernie’s voice filled the room when he barged in.

Nora bounded from the bed to square off with him. He ignored her bravado and went to the tray, still untouched, and the food now cold.

“I’m not hungry,” she said flatly.

Bernie placed the lid back on the plate and turned to her, a dark, cold glare settling on her. “I didn’t ask if you were hungry. You need to eat. I’ll have a sandwich brought up for you after we’ve talked.”

“Is Greg all right?” She leapt to the first question burning on her tongue.

A smirk crossed his lips. “Of course you’d ask about that asshole first. Yes, he’s fine. His brother picked him up and dusted him off. And he’ll stay fine so long as he doesn’t meddle in my business again.” Bernie pointed a fat, wrinkled finger at her.

Why hadn’t she noticed how old he looked? His hair was graying, much more than her father’s had. Wrinkles had taken over the sides of his eyes and around his mouth. Too many Italian beef sandwiches had settled around his belly.

“What about me? Why are you keeping me locked up here?” she asked, trying to iron the shake from her voice. Just because she was terrified didn’t mean she needed to let him have the satisfaction of knowing it.

“Because I don’t want you leaving,” he answered with a shrug.

“I don’t understand.” She sank to the bed again, pressing her palms into her knees.

Bernie tsked his tongue. “So much like your mother.” Bernie walked over to her. “You look like her, too. Dark hair, trim build. Tiny tits.” He grabbed her breast and squeezed. She jumped back, but he held onto her. “Yes, just like your mother.” He laughed and released her.

“My mother died when I was a toddler, before you knew Dad. How could you know her?” Nora held a protective arm over her chest and scrambled away from him on the king-sized bed. He’d have to walk around the bed if he wanted to touch her again.

Bernie laughed. “You know, your father didn’t do you any favors hiding so much of his life from you. Lying to you about your mother.” His smile dropped a fraction, enough for his depravity to slip through. “Your mother didn’t die when you were a toddler. She lived longer than your father, but not by much.”

“What?” Nora hissed. “What does that mean? When did she die? Why wasn’t she with us?”

“Because I took her.” Bernie sighed and looked at his watch. “I really don’t have much time, so I’ll give you the short history. I run a very profitable business, and one of my clients showed a lot of interest in your mother. But I knew your father would never agree, so I took it upon myself to make the deal. She passed away last year, shortly after your father. Some lung infection, I think. Anyway, her owner wants a replacement and has offered twice what he paid for her, for you. You look just like her, like I said.”

Words hurled at her, swirling around but nothing lined up right. Bernie had kidnapped her mother? Sold her?

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