Page 68 of Ruthless Mr. Ricco
My gut clenches in horror as I recognize the second voice as Angelo Ricco.Matteo’s brother.
He drugged me.Today and at our class reunion.I had my suspicions, but this is too coincidental.
“Nope.It’s just us,” says the stranger.
“Hell yeah,” Angelo grunts.
Blinding light pierces straight into the center of my brain.I flinch, close my eyes, and flop my arm over my face.
The air thins as I realize I’m trapped in an unknown location with at least two men.I don’t think I went fully unconscious, but I don’t trust my memory right now.Any amount of time could’ve passed since I pushed Matteo away and lunged into the restroom.
My heart lurches.Matteo drank a glass of champagne, too, except he didn’t vomit afterward.He might not be able to protect himself right now, much less look for me.
“Pour some water on her face and clean her up a bit so we can use all her holes,” Angelo says.
Dread coalesces in my veins.After surviving so many horrible things throughout my life, my brain slides into an unhinged, sordid humor.
Welp, that clears up any doubts I had about why they dragged me here.Two micropenises.One broad.Don’t do drugs, kids.
A sluggish scoff escapes from my chest, except my limbs don’t feel as heavy and my senses seem sharper.
I have full use of my body, but know nothing about my surroundings or the men, other than Angelo’s physique.He may not be as big as Matteo, but he still outweighs me by far.
My best bet is to act out of it until I have a chance to escape.
I morph my scoff into a loopy half laugh and roll partially onto my side.With my arm draped over my face and my hair a wild mess, I study my surroundings.
Everything is either white or light tan.A simple wardrobe and metal bunk bed line the far wall.
Water splashes into a sink somewhere behind me.The echo sounds like it comes from a separate room.
“Hey, bitch, guess what?”
I groan and blink half-lidded eyes up at Angelo as he uses the sole of his shoe on my shoulder to push me onto my back.
I take stock of the room as he squats beside me.
This must be an on-call suite for overnight workers.The furnishings are utilitarian.No personal effects clutter the space.
The strap of my purse hangs off the edge of the desk I halfway lie under.
Angelo nudges my arm with his shoe.I flop my head toward him and squint.
“Dustin and I are going to have fun with you for a few hours,” Angelo goads.
The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.
“We’re gonna fuckandfuck you up like how we wanted to back in high school,” he sneers.
I close my eyes, shake my head, and swing an uncoordinated swat at his knee, catching the strap of my purse with my wrist.The bag thumps against my lower stomach before sliding onto the floor near his foot.I let my hand slip off his thigh and land on the linoleum a few inches past the closure.
The curved corner of my phone case digs into my wrist as it peeks from the opening.My heart pounds against my sternum, but I force my muscles to remain lax.The wave of adrenaline clears my mind and sharpens my senses.I inch my hand closer to my purse.
Footsteps click against the linoleum.A shadow falls over me.Cold water splashes onto my face and into my mouth and nose.I cough and choke but keep my limbs in place.
“Long time no see, stepsis.”
Every inch of me tenses.I look through my lashes, desperately clinging to my ruse, as horror washes over me.
