The Mafia Boss

Part 5: The Other Hot Guy

My eyes slowly open, but I force them shut. I don't want to wake up, please let me fall asleep once again. I know exactly where I am, who's bed I am currently lying in. I really wish I didn't remember. I wish I could wake up and realize it all to be but a dream, a nightmare. But I know all too well, I remember far too clearly for it to be a lie. 

I want to be in my bed with my hard mattress that I have grown to be so used to. I want to be able to turn to my right and acknowledge the time on my digital clock. But I can't. Maybe I can. Maybe the nightmare was just so realistic that I confused it with reality, maybe, just maybe. 

I turn onto my right shoulder and open my eyes, hoping, making myself believe, wishing. Instead, I find myself staring right at the face of the man who captured his ex after lying to her through the span of their whole relationship about him being the son of the mafia boss. For fuck's sake. And I still cannot comprehend why he took me in the first place.

I look at him unguarded, calm, without that smile, just him, peaceful, quiet. And he seems almost angelic, innocent. I study his features and suppress the urge to run my hand through his tangled hair. He stirs, just slightly. A heavy breath comes out his mouth and he moves ever so lightly, throwing my conscious back at me. "You've been staring too long, stop. It's kinda weird" it says, and I realize how correct that statement is. 

I get up and off his bed, which I had claimed for the night and he's still sleeping in it, can't have anything to myself can I? I open the bedroom doors and decide to explore or, potentially, escape. But that's the problem, it's impossible to escape. There are guards at every exit to the outside world, so beyond the garden I cannot go. The garden is bordered by tall bushes with spikes and leaves. I can't leave. But I won't stop trying to.

The ceiling is so high, the floors all carpeted with royal blue or left bare showing shiny wooden floorboards, the walls pearly white and the halls annoyingly long. It would be so easy to lose yourself in this house. To be lost without exit, without a way out. I already know how that feels, so I wouldn't be experiencing anything new. I walk past open rooms and branching out hallways, past tables and windows, past doors and doors. I try some, here and there, now and then, all are uninteresting. All just bedrooms, smaller than Matteo's, but at least ten times the size of mine, my old one. 

I guess that's what I have to call it now. Nostalgia passes over me and I suddenly feel closed in, stuck. But I ignore it, like everything else. My mom always used to say that my feelings don't matter, that everything will go away if I don't think about it. Those are the same words that are reminded to me whenever I feel anything unusual or stressed, whenever I feel like I need to cry or scream, whenever I just sort of feel. 

Now and then I stop at these doors, here and there until I find one locked. Finally, something interesting. For if it is locked, there must be something important hidden behind. I knock on the door, to make sure nobody is inside and after two minutes of no answer I decide to take action. Like I did yesterday, I charge with my other side towards the door, since the one I used last time is sore and bruised. I collide with a large noise against the door, and fully expecting it not to open at the first try, was very surprised when it did. The door opens with the sound of wood breaking. They didn't pay much attention to the security of the locks for the rooms, that's good to know. Wood crashing with the wall next to it and the door is fully swung open showing a bedroom, again, but bigger, like Matteo's, but messy, unlike Matteo's. 

The bed sheets tangled; clothing piled on the chair sitting at the desk covered in books and pencils, the floor below it scattered with paper. A window right above the desk urging me to look outside. I walk over to it and open its doors, letting the fresh air blow over me, reminding me of the walk home from school that had led to all this. Someone must be sleeping in this room then. They must have gone downstairs for breakfast or lunch and locked the door behind them. Would they be related to Matteo? Or maybe just another one of his unsuspecting victims, locked here until he decides what to do with them.  A clearing of a throat behind me and I turn around quickly ready to strike at any threat proposing themself. It's a man. A tall, breath-taking man. I stare up at him and note his features. His blonde, wavy hair perfectly framing his face, his high set cheekbones and his bewitching dark blue eyes. He's wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, leaving my eye to descend from his face to his muscular torso. He takes my breath away and seems to realize that presenting a sickly-sweet smile. I should have thought of the fact that he could still be in the room. I'm such an idiot. He locked it from the inside. 

"As much as I'd love to let you stare at me for however long you want," a blush flourishes on my cheeks "I am going to have to ask you why you're in my room and the reason for my door being bashed down." 

A British accent decorates his every word, making him even more handsome than he was before. Fuck, how am I going to explain this? 'I was taken by the son of the mafia boss, and I was exploring and looking for an exit without a million fucking guards attacking me' doesn't sound all too believable, does it? But if he's going through the same, we could plan to run away together. Two is better than just one after all. So, I decide to tell him.