His Mafia Prince

(MILES)

I feel nauseated, and my eyes are glued shut. My whole body is covered in sweat. Everything is going in circles and my thoughts are hazy. I’m not even sure of where I am. Slowly, my memories begin to resurface. I remember having sex with Arlo then shortly after, some strange alpha came by. That little fucker Arlo jabbed a needle in my neck.

I rummage through my pockets checking for my phone. I’m not even surprised that it is missing. I look around and notice that even my suit jacket is missing. The cold of the room seeps into my skin with just my slacks and a dress shirt.

Clumsily, I manage to stand. It’s so dark in here I can’t see a damn thing. It smells moot and gravy in here. I begin to move along what feels like a stone wall. The stones are cold to the feel and rough against my palms. That only means one thing, that I’m not in a finished basement of a building. So, where the hell am I?

I now know certainly that that punk Arlo set me up. He played me perfectly. He was acting nonchalant so that sure drew me in. If he was too willing, I would have lost interest instantly. I suspect that whoever it was that sent him to set me up knew that about me. That very idea is unsettling. The part that still surprises me is why he had sex with me. It’s one thing to kidnap someone. But to have sex with them while at it?

I didn’t plan for this.

That was what Arlo said right before we fucked. So then, the sex was unplanned for? Was it not part of his original plan? I don’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered that apparently, I was irresistible. I laugh harshly as I continue to trace my way along the wall. I’d love to catch that fucker Arlo and make him pay for making a fool out of me like this. I want nothing more than to squeeze that slender pale throat of his until I drain all the life out of his pretty emerald eyes.

My head hurts and my legs won’t stop wobbling. Feeling weak isn’t my forte, but now I have to stop after every few steps because I’m on the verge of puking my liver out. Whatever it is they pushed in my body has very unpleasant side effects.

I tumble on the crates and boxes as I work my way around. I begin to see shapes as my eyes adjust to the darkness. There seem to be some stairs at the far end of the room, with a door at the top. The silver light beneath the door shows shadows moving occasionally, like someone’s walking back and forth.

I ignore the nausea clawing at me and drag myself to the foot of the stairs. I crawl up the steps and finally manage to reach the door. I pound on the thick wood with my hand and the door rattles on its hinges. "Whoever the tuck you are, just know you made the biggest fucking mistake of your life."

I hear a laugh on the other side and bang on the door some more. I even kick on it a few times for good measure, letting every curse word that I’ve ever known flow freely from my mouth. My fists hurt with every slam at the door, but then again, it feels good. At least, it helps me forget the fear slithering through me.

"You think you are going to make it out of this?" I yell. "Nobody touches me and lives to tell the story."