Page 55 of His Kidnapped Queen
I nod sharply and he leaves the cottage without another word.
I stare at the locked bedroom door for a moment. I could crash on the couch. I don’t have to do it this way. But then I take in a deep breath and unbolt the door, walking inside and locking it behind me.
Sophia lays on the bed, staring at the door, and she scrambles up when I come in. The long line of her thigh makes my mouth start to water and I try not to look at her.
She’s so fucking beautiful. And deadly.
Like a rose with all its thorns.
“I’m tired,” I say bluntly.
“I’m tired too,” she responds quickly, frowning. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I’m taking a nap.” I start to unbutton my shirt, having to hide a smirk when I feel her eyes on me.
“Here?” She looks up at me incredulously, blue eyes wide.
“Where else? Someone needs to keep an eye on you.”
“I assume you have men who can do that.”
She assumes correctly. I have Diego. But that doesn’t matter.
“I don’t trust anyone else not to let you slip away,” I say, and it’s one of the most honest things I’ve ever said to her.
“Where am I supposed to sleep if you sleep here?”
I shrug. “Not my problem.”
I pull off my shirt and drape it over a nearby chair, crawling into bed and under the covers.
“You can’t keep me here forever,” she says, and I’m already starting to drift off.
“Watch me,” I mumble, then I drift off into a dreamless sleep.
15
SOPHIA
I’m still sitting on the bed, staring at Luca. He’s dead asleep, turned on one side. I try to keep my eyes averted from his back muscles, from the tattoo on his shoulder blade. Why does he have to be so attractive?
He’s my kidnapper, but also the father of my daughter, so my body is confused to say the least. The weight of him on the bed feels achingly familiar—not that we’d done much sleeping that night.
I shake my head to clear it. There has to be an opportunity here. His phone is half out of his back pocket and it gives me an idea. He’s a heavy sleeper. I remember that from the night we spent together, and the way he’s snoring right now makes me think he’s fully asleep.
But what if he’s pretending? Or what if things have changed since that night three years ago? I bite my lip, but what makes the decision for me is the image of Rosa in my head: curly dark hair, his green eyes. I miss her so badly it hurts, and it’s only been a night. Will I ever get back to her?
It would be so easy to call the police, but something stops me from doing that. I know Scott must be looking for me. I’m sure he’s told everyone. Maybe not Agnes. He might want to keep Rosa in the dark until he finds me, not wanting to worry her. He loves her so, he’s her uncle in every sense of the word but blood.
I slowly slide his phone out of his pocket and Luca stirs. I freeze, my heart pounding, but he just mumbles something incoherent and rolls over onto his back, one hand on his chest, his face turned toward me. God, his broad chest, the hair on his belly, trailing down into his slacks....
I shake my head to clear it.
You’ve got it to do,I think, something that my father had told me over and over when I had a task that seemed insurmountable.
I breathe in deeply and creep around the bed to take his hand. He doesn’t even stir when I press his thumb against the sensor, and the phone unlocks. I draw in a ragged breath and dart to the corner of the room, as far away from him as I can get.
I huddle in the corner, my eyes on his sleeping form, as I dial Agnes’ number with shaking hands. The phone rings once, twice, three times.
