Sparrow

8

I wrote this at 2 o'clock in the morning listening to Summertime sadness and Ransom so you lovely people could wake up to a update because I love you

Serina POV

Marco was right. Lorenzo never did come to his room that night. I tossed and turned at the thought of him walking in, and what he would say and what I would reply.

But he never came to bed, Nor to bed any night for the next four days. Which I wasn't complaining about. I just watched T.V and did follow along yoga on the fitness channel to dull my boredom. Which was making me start to pace, and ache for the attention of anyone other than my own reflection.

The second night my mind wracked as to where he was sleeping, and my head burned at the thought of him in some other whores bed, but I let that care die the third day when I screamed and screamed until my throat was raw and no one answered.

No. I don't care if he sleeps with other woman, no, it's his body and he can stick his dick anywhere he wanted. Glory holes to prostitutes, I have decided I don't give a fuck.

Fuck Lorenzo.

But I thought mafia bosses were gross old men. Why couldn't Lorenzo be unattractive and old, because then a bunch of these problems I have; I wouldn't have them.

Sure I'd still be here, but I wouldn't have the problems of wanting to know what crossing that line would feel like.

I had to physically restrain myself from asking someone where he's been the last few days, not that I thought they would even tell me. Because why would they.
There were guards outside the door, and they would come in and check that I was still alive every few hours, usually in between my three meals a day.

The food was one of the only good thing about being here, it was delicious. Every dish was different, hot and cold dishes, soups and pastas and thick meats. When they deliver the food they make me go stand against the wall while one puts it down and another guards the doorway like I'm a prisoner In a maximum security prison.

I'd hidden one time, under the bed and they went insane trying to find me. Calling in that I had escaped again. But then I crawled out like a lizard person and jumped on ones back while he wasn't looking.

He was—unsurprisingly—unaffected by my efforts, even as I flicked his ear and combed his hair with my fingers. The other men shaking their head and talking into their radios that they had and I quote 'Found the minx.'

There were a lot of people around here giving me nicknames. Sparrow. Now minx?

I was fast and cunning yes, but hardly seductive and alluring. I was awkward when it came to the flirting stuff. Sleeping with people and barely looking at their faces? Easy. But actually having conversations with men, laughable.

I'd never cared to know the people I've slept with, and they didn't care to know me. I was kept under pretty tight watch under Lucas, but ever so often I'd sneak out to a bar to drink and have fun, maybe meet a guy. and what else do I really have to say. We would fuck. Meaningless, home by morning kind of thing.

It was always so much easier that way.

There was a knock on the door, and I smiled. The guards were back to play. "Sorry I'm fisting myself come back later." I yelled, as I jumped on the bed, listening to it squeak.

Even though I gave my warning, the door still opened. "Glad to see you weren't actually-" Marco smiled as he and another man walked in.

"Fisting myself?" I finished his sentence for him and he shook his head. Looking to the man he was with, I let my gaze fall on him too.