Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
As the car made slow progress through the evening traffic, I tried not to think too much more about my predicament. If I found a way out, I would take it, and until then, I’d survive like I always had and maybe even let myself enjoy it. I wondered what my new apartment would be like. I expected Lucien to give me a decent apartment, one where I didn’t feel nervous every time I came home, but as we drove through the North End, I began to wonder where he’d found something for me that wasn’t outrageously overpriced. When the car slowed as we passed an idyllic row of homes, my pulse sped up. Then Ralph turned in to an actual, honest-to-God, off-the-street parking spot. I tapped on the glass that separated me from the men I assumed were Lucien’s bodyguards. Ralph slid the window open, and I asked, “Where are we?”
“Marchesi’s home. This is where he told us to take you.”
“He has an apartment here?”
Ralph snorted. “He owns the whole building. Lives here with his family.”
Fuck. Lucien hadn’t gotten me a new place to live; he was moving me in with him.
A woman who looked to be in her early sixties answered the door. She had gray hair pulled into a low ponytail, and she was wearing a serviceable black dress with a white apron over it. “I’m Lola, the housekeeper. You must be Peter.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do come in. Your room is ready, and everything Mr. Lucien ordered has been delivered and taken there for you.”
“Do you mean the things from my apartment?”
“Oh, yes, those too but also all the things he purchased.”
What had Lucien done? “I didn’t realize he had…”
“He might have gone a little overboard. It was hard to fit everything in initially, so I had to go ahead and unpack some things and hang them up. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, no. I don’t mind at all.”
“That’s great, dear. Would you like a tour of the house first or would you prefer to go ahead and settle in?”
The whole situation was surreal. Lola was warm and relaxed, and she treated me like an honored guest, not a prisoner or her boss’s trick. Lucien’s home wasn’t what I would’ve expected. It was clear he was extremely wealthy—he employed a housekeeper after all. But inside, it was bright with vibrant colors and plenty of light. The furnishings looked expensive but not stuffy. It was definitely not the opulent mobster house of my imagination, decorated in red and gold with lots of dark wood.
I supposed I might as well have a tour of the house since, apparently, I was going to be living there until Lucien tired of me or I found a way to escape. A tour of the house would at least show me some escape options.
Do you really think you’d get far?
I didn’t, but I refused to think about that.
“A tour would be great. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Lola said. “I’ll show you to the dining room first. If Lucien doesn’t have other plans for you for dinner, you’ll dine here at eight o’clock.”
The dining room was decorated in vibrant greens and yellows. The gleaming wood table had intricately carved legs, but the matching chairs looked sturdy enough to hold Lucien and his relatives.
“Breakfast is served at seven and lunch at one, whenever you’re home for those meals. You can always request something be brought to your room or come down to the kitchen for whatever you need. I want you to feel at home here.”
Captivity sounded much better than my day-to-day life: food anytime I wanted it and people to bring it to me. Maybe I should’ve looked into this whole being a plaything to a mobster earlier.
Lola showed me the kitchen which was done in a French country style. There was a platter of chocolate chip cookies on the counter, and she insisted I have one.
“Wow, these are delicious,” I said after chewing my first bite.
“Thank you. Mr. Lucien has a bit of a sweet tooth, so I like to keep something around for him.” I tried to imagine Lucien swooning over a cookie, but it was impossible.
The kitchen was so inviting I almost didn’t want to leave, but I followed Lola through a sitting room, the formal living room, and then upstairs. As we reached the landing, a door opened down the hall, and Angelo stepped out.
“Ah, my brother brought you home. I’m not surprised.”
“Peter will be staying with us for a while, Mr. Angelo. Your brother has asked that—”
“I be on my best behavior? When am I not?” He blew a kiss to Lola then raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Lola sniffed. “That one. He’s been like that since he was a child. But he’s loyal to Lucien, and you can trust him. For anything.”