Page 16 of Unrestricted
By mid-afternoon I am bored rigid. Despite an exhaustive search I still haven't found the remote control to work the TV projector. I did, however, come across a paperback thriller in the bottom drawer of the nightstand but the last few pages had been torn out. What sort of psycho does that?
Adriano came in this morning with a ham and tomato sandwich and a bottle of water for me. He didn't bring lunch. I've been trying to work out how long a person can survive without food and water. I'm reckoning it's more than the nine hours since I last ate.
Neglecting to feed me is almost forgivable but I'm close to the point where the lack of coffee is becoming torture. As a fellow Italian, Adriano must know what that's doing to me. Bastard.
He didn't speak to me when he brought the food. Instead he just cast an appraising look over me and left. I wonder what he was thinking. After last night I doubt it's flattering. I can't believe I enjoyed him touching me like that.
No, that's not quite right. Adriano knows his way around a woman's body. What I can't believe is that I let him know I enjoyed it. Even if I could have stifled my moans there was no concealing how wet I got for him.
I'm sitting on the floor with my back against the bed contemplating that humiliation when the whirr of the electronic lock in the door announces his arrival. I get to my feet and stand to face him.
He walks into the room, glances at the empty water bottle and the plate that has nothing but a few crumbs on it.
"Can you cook?" he asks.
"Yes." I learned the basics of Italian cooking from my mother. When I was on the run I expanded my repertoire. Though money was always tight, the one thing I never wanted to skimp on was food.
Adriano nods. "Come."
Being spoken to like a dog isn't thrilling to me but I follow him anyway. We don't take the grand staircase we ascended yesterday. Instead, Adriano takes me in the opposite direction along the stark corridor and down a narrower set of stairs.
We emerge into an enormous kitchen. The cabinets and island are all black. The worktops are a gray stone. Slate or granite? I can't tell. There are two stoves with a total of ten burners. It's not immediately obvious if there's a refrigerator in here. Everything is concealed behind a wall of black.
There's not a single cooking pot or utensil on display but I'm guessing a kitchen with such a large stove has everything you'd need to cook with.
"Not one for clutter, are you?" I remark.
Adriano shrugs. "I like to keep things simple."
"So why didn't you shoot me and dump me in some alley in the Grassmarket?"
He doesn't have an answer for that and I can tell the question perplexes him from the tiny crease that appears at the bridge of his nose.
I look around the kitchen again. Several of these cabinets must contain cooking implements and the door off to the right probably leads to a pantry.
"What should I make?" I ask.
"Puttanesca," he replies without missing a beat.
My jaw tightens. "Right, because you think I'm a whore."
He shrugs indolently. "What else would you call a woman who takes money to date a guy and lead him into a trap? Tell me, Eliza, which of the Hungarians were you fucking while you led Gabriele on?"
"I wasn't fucking anyone, Hungarian or otherwise."
"You expect me to believe your innocent act when you proved what a greedy little slut you are last night. You practically came all over my fingers."
I fold my arms across my chest. "Are you this much of an asshole to everyone?"
"Pretty much," he says wryly. "But something about you seems to bring it out."
"Lucky me."
I don't want to continue this argument because for some reason it's making me hot in a way that isn't entirely due to anger. "Now, where do you keep the food in this place?"
He pauses for a moment as if trying to decide whether to continue provoking me or to let it slide. Thankfully he chooses the latter because I don't know how much longer I can carry on without either bursting into tears or trying to tear his clothes off.
"The refrigerator's there." He nods to a door behind me. "Pantry's over there."
