Page 12 of Lourdes & the Mafia
And I have every intention of keeping her for myself.
Lourdes
Ijoltupright,ascream caught in my throat that strangles me. My hands grasp for my throat, clawing at my skin. It takes a moment for my panic to subside, but even then, I can’t escape the tight grip of anxiety.
My heart pounds too fast, and my breaths come out in quick, heavy pants. My first instinct is to run my hands over my body, yet when I do, my earlier injuries and pain are…completely gone.
What thefuck?
My eyes adjust and I take in the room, my breathing coming out harder the longer I look at it. Am I in a fuckingprison? No… prisons aren’t aslavishas this.
The walls are made of shiny black stone, yet the massive suite isn’t cold or clammy. It’s richly decorated with a brilliantly lit crystal chandelier that hangs overhead in the middle of the ceiling. Candles flicker rainbow flames throughout the room, which smell like frankincense. Small plates sit around several corners on tables and the floors, emitting heavy coiling smoke. The bed I’m on is rich with black silk and white and pink furs and pillows. There’s a Chinese screen with floral designs at the far side, and silks and scarves hang from various stone statues that look like they belong in a gallery. There’s paintings on the walls too, famous ones from artists like Rembrandt, Brunelleschi, and Caravaggio.
Fakes, I’m sure…
“What the fuuu—” I glide to the edge of the bed and when I stand, I go to a far mirror to assess myself. “Joder,” I whisper.
Gone are the pajamas I’d escaped in. I’m currently wearing a light pink silk number with flowery lace edges. It’s beautiful, something I would have chosen for myself. It offsets my rich brown skin, showing off every wide curve of my body. And my hair…
It’s in a fucking bonnet.
“Quién carájos…?”
Whodressedme so meticulously? Who put abonneton me?
This feels so surreal.
Creepy.
Like some Casanova horror movie shit.
And I think thefucknot.
I’mout.
I rush towards the door and it opens immediately beneath my palms. What a bunch of pendejos, leaving the door open and making my escape so much easier. Isn’t there a manual out there for kidnappers? If there is, whoever is keeping me did not pass the test.
The hallway is dark and abandoned. It’s obvious that I’m in a fucking castle, and the idea fills me with fear. Where the hell are there castles in Santo Domingo?
I’ve been fucking snatched and taken to another country!
Coño. I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland and find myself a hot man in a kilt to take me back in time for a tryst, but not like this.
Candlesticks light my way through the dark hall, and the cold out here seeps into my bones, making me tremble and trip. My hairs stand on end and, because I’m familiar with this sensation, I stop, tilting my head around.
I’m being watched and yet I see no one.
I try to hold my breath, but fear has them pushing from my body in pants. After minutes of silence, I take a step…
And I’m hauled to the floor by the ankle.
I scream as I go down. The limb that grips me drags me as I hit the floor. I thrash against the hold, turning to my back in the process.
Coming face to face with a creature of nightmares.
It looms over me, a shadow given form. Red eyes and vicious teeth that drip red drops from tooth to tooth and claws that curve in my direction.
I scream, my hands grappling for a weapon to use. Coming in contact with the bottom of a tall candlestick holder, I haul it to me and strike, swinging with all my might.
