Page 192 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Islowly crack open my eyes, and damn, my eyelids feel like cement shades that insist on staying closed. After a brief struggle, they let in the blinding light that shines overhead. I blink fast to clear my blurred vision, struggling to lift my pounding head from…I look to my right and left to figure out where I am.

What in the hell?

I’m in a bed.

Shit.

Who’s fucking bed is it?

And where is said fucking bed?

I open my mouth to scream, but all that emerges is a raspy squeak.

Pebbles of sweat gather on the back of my neck as my head sinks farther into the fluffy pillow under it, so heavy I can’t imagine my shoulders being able to hold it up for even a split second.

Okay, if I can just get leverage, maybe I can sit up.

Relax, Jae. Just put your hands on the mattress and push off?—

I choke out a gasp.

Fuck!

I jerk my wrists, straining my arm muscles with each flail, my hands hanging limply from their position.

No, please, no!

Silver handcuffs have my arms firmly attached to the bedposts, holding my body prisoner in the center of this mattress. Sharp breaths slice at my insides as I struggle against the metal cuffs that show no signs of loosening or cracking open.

“Help!” I sputter in a weak voice, still jiggling my wrists. “Help me!”

I grit my teeth, trying like hell to remember how I got here…what happened, where was I, how did?—?

And then fragments of the terror I felt come flying back at me with a vengeance. My tires exploding, my car spinning out uncontrollably across the desert road, a dark-haired man coming toward me, the needle he stuck into my arm…

But it wasn’t just any man.

Goddammit!

I kick my feet out as far as I can reach, knocking over a tray sitting at the foot of the bed. A loud crash reverberates between the walls as I try once again to screech in anger. But my mouth is so damn dry, I can barely make out a syllable.

“Villani!” I grunt through gritted teeth, clanging the handcuffs to the head of the bed as hard as I can.

The door opens a minute later and once again, my breath hitches.

This time it’s because he’s holding a glass of water with a straw in it.

I’d give my right arm for a sip…

Oh yeah, I’ve already given him that limb as well as my left one.

He walks toward the bed, holding the straw to my lips and despite my raging desire to claw out his eyes, I gulp down as much of the cool, clear liquid as I can without choking.

When I’ve guzzled most of the glass, I pull away, leveling him with a searing glare. I have no weapons except for my mind and unfortunately, I can’t gut him like a fish with brain waves as my only tool.

He’s standing close to my head, too close for me to launch my foot at his groin. I mean, if I was a gymnast or a contortionist,maybe?

But in my reality, I’d end up in a full body cast.

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