Page 24 of Temptation
“Lorenzo…” I gasp as the horror of what I’m seeing hits me.
In a cage in the corner are three men, Chad and his two friends. The ones who chased me at the lake. But I hardly recognize them.
Their once pretty college boy looks are unrecognizable. Dark bruises tinge their skin. Chad has a swollen eye, and there’s so much blood on his face that I don’t know where it’s coming from. His friends look no better. One of them lies on his side clasping his ribs. The other slumps in the corner, unconscious. They’re all gagged with dirty cloths, and their hands are tied behind their backs.
I take a step backward, bile rising in my throat. I’ve never seen so much human blood. It’s a wonder they’re alive. Unless they aren’t.
“Are they dead?”
My gaze snaps to Lorenzo. He’s watching me carefully, his expression dark and unreadable.
“Not yet.”
Not yet.
“What does that mean?”
“I wanted them to see you first. To know which shitty action from their shitty lives led to their deaths.”
Panic makes my stomach churn and the air, thick with human blood and piss, presses in on me. I stumble toward the door and just make it outside before I vomit into the undergrowth, splattering my half-digested breakfast pastry onto my brand new Gucci sneakers, courtesy of Lorenzo.
Lorenzo. The man who can afford to have designer clothes flown into the mountains from New York, the man who has a sex den in the middle of the forest, the man who has three would-be rapists in his shed ready to be put to death.
“Who are you?”
I stand up and wipe my mouth on the cashmere sleeve, not caring if I ruin it. I’m sure he can have another one sent. Bile rises again in my stomach. I’ve been enjoying the luxury, the good food and Italian candy, without ever questioning where it came from.
I claw at the sweater, trying to rip it off. Whatever this man is into, I want no part of it.
Lorenzo steps toward me and I back away, edging toward the forest. The two guards take a step on either side of me, but Lorenzo says something in Italian and they back off.
My eyes dart to the forest behind me. I ran once. I can run again. But Lorenzo is no college boy looking for a thrill. He has men and probably guns, and there’s no way I could outrun him.
My heart thumps so hard it might explode in my chest. Only this morning I was dreaming of a life with this man. Now I’m looking for an escape.
“I’m not going to hurt you, coniglietto.”
He puts his hands up placatingly. Those strong hands which last night I imagined touching my most intimate places. How many people have they killed?
“Who are you?” I ask again, taking another step backward into the forest.
“Lorenzo Berone.”
He says the name as if it means something. But I’ve never heard his surname before. I’m just a waitress who works in a lodge. I like hiking in the summer and skiing in the winter. I don’t know who anyone on the mountain is aside from the small community at the resort.
“My family has…business dealings on the mountain.”
The way he says it gives way too much meaning to the word ‘business.’
Suddenly, my brain clicks it all into place. The Italian wine, the Italian clothing, the goddamn Italian sweets…
“Are you…mafia?”
My mind reels. Is there real life mafia on the mountain? On quiet, sleepy Wild Heart Mountain with jovial tourists, cranky mountain men, and wholesome good people? There can’t really be mafia here.
But he doesn’t deny it.
“Are you?” I press.
