I wasn’t wearing any underwear. No panties or bra and I was sure that I had worn them last night. I chewed my lip, trying my best to remember what happened just a few hours before.
Last night, I had gone out in my new little black dress. I was sure of that, so where had this new dress come from? Where the hell had my panties gone? The night came back in small glimmers and the pounding of my head wasn’t helping things come back to me. It was just making things worse. With a sigh, I turned my head and looked around.
The walls were made from stone, like that of a castle, but there was a certain understated elegance to it all. Tapestries depicting knights on horseback and ancient Roman men in traditional togas decorated the walls. Paintings of beautiful Italian families were interspersed throughout the room too.
One of the more modern-looking families caught my eye. The man looked vaguely familiar and I blinked several times before it hit me.
Vincenzo Santaro.
The man in the painting looked just like him.
Where the hell was I?
Panicked, I pushed myself out of bed and looked out the closest window. Pressing my palms against the cool stone, I peered outside and gasped at what I saw. It was more than obvious that I wasn’t in Rome anymore. There was no Coliseum or city lights or views of the Mediterranean. Instead, I looked out to see rolling hills, tall trees, and more snow-peaked mountains than I had ever seen in my life. Blue sky interspersed with white clouds went on for as far as I could see.
I didn’t know if it was still possible that I was in Italy. If I was, it had to be to the north.
The window was quite high up and when I turned my eyes down, I realized that the stonework continued. It was a tower and I was all the way up at the top.
Had I walked into a fairy tale or was this still a dream?
I shook my head, chewing my lip and trying to figure out where I was. In the room with me were a number of other pieces of furniture that were carved out of the same mahogany that the massive bed was. It carried with it a certain air of regality that reminded me a bit of the one time I had visited Versailles and seen the French influences across the entire city, only there was a bit of Italian flair in its design. The carvings seemed stronger and more purposefully done. I ran my fingers along the smooth curves and descended deeper into the bedroom, noticing the open showers that had been built into a sort of grotto right across the room from the bed.
I climbed the two stairs leading up to them and took in the pebbled stonework beneath my feet and the strategically placed lights that lit up the shower so that it felt like I was up on a stage. The stones were smooth and rough in places along the wall and I absentmindedly traced them with my fingers as I explored. There was a small room off to the side with a toilet. There was a massive sunken bath in the corner of the room too. Huge double sinks lined the wall around the corner from that and I was quite certain that this was the most impressive master bath that I’d ever laid my eyes on.
There was a distinctive medieval feel to everything, and I found myself wondering if I was inside a castle somewhere.
There was a pair of large wooden double doors and I walked over to them, tentatively trying the knobs to see if they opened. They didn’t. I was locked inside.
I lay back down on the bed and stared up at the mirror, trying to piece together the events of last night. My head wasn’t pounding quite as hard anymore and I took a deep breath.
I started to remember everything. All my girls had cancelled on our plans and I’d gone out anyway. That’s when Vincenzo had shown up, buying me incredibly expensive drinks and flashing those lavish cufflinks right in front of me. We’d danced, left the bar, and he’d taken me back to his penthouse.
He’d drunk so much. He’d downed glass after glass of whiskey and gotten way too drunk.
He’d been hell bent on forcing me to have sex with him.
I’d pushed him out of a window.
I’d killed a man.
A soft cry escaped my throat as it all came back to me. Someone was dead because of me.
I should be in jail or worse, but I wasn’t. Instead, I was held captive here in some sort of regal bedroom in a castle of sorts. There were no bars or irons to bind me or anything like that. If anything, this was the strangest sort of prison that I could have ever imagined. Expensive features. A comfortable bed. A beautiful shower. Every creature comfort I could have asked for in a master bedroom suite.
I heard the jingle of the lock and the door slowly pushed open. A man dressed in a simple elegant burgundy button-up shirt and a pair of well-pressed black slacks walked inside. He was a big man and the thin fabric did little to cover up the hard muscles beneath it. Every part of him was hard, from the chiseled muscles of his chest to his bulging biceps and to the firm thickness of his thighs.
I lifted my eyes to take in his face. His jawline was strong and shadowed with a few days’ growth. On some men, it would appear sloppy, but not him. It just made him look regal. His hair was messy, but it appeared intentional and on him was ridiculously handsome. It was long enough to run my fingers through, and I found myself wanting to. Dark brown eyes bored into mine and I found myself trembling under his gaze. He radiated power and expectation. His body language was strong, demanding even, and I had the feeling he was used to getting his way whenever he wanted for whatever he wanted.
Or whoever he wanted. And right now, all signs pointed to the fact that he wanted me.
He cocked his head to the side, staring at me with a certain raw desire that made my heart begin to pound in my chest.
“Is there something you need, baby girl?” he asked, and my nipples pebbled almost instantly at his words. I was embarrassed to realize that my pussy was wet too.
I swallowed nervously, ignoring his question and asking my own instead.
“Who are you?”