Accidentally in Love With a God (2012) (14 page)

He nodded.

Guy had a private plane. No clothes, but he had a plane.
Okay.
“And this place? Is it his?” I asked.

Again, Tommaso nodded.

Christ. My coma-heaven was Guy’s Italian villa? Considering how much I hated him, that was a bit of a buzz kill. Now I’d have to come up with a whole new heaven when I died.

But how had I envisioned it so clearly? Even if he’d described it to me once without my remembering, it didn’t make an ounce of logic that I’d dream with such precision. Maybe he and I were more deeply connected that I knew. “And that bastard didn’t come with me, did he?”

He shook his head “no.”

“How about a note mentioning my grandmother?”

“No. Sorry.”

It was official. I really, truly hated Guy. Aside from using my grandmother’s disappearance to get me to free him, ruining my life, lying to me, and almost getting me killed in the cenote, he’d also messed with my hormones, told me I was in danger from some god-awful witchdoctors, knocked me out, and then dumped me with Dr. Evil’s handsome twin?

If I ever saw Guy again, I’d castrate the beast with a dull knife or perhaps a spoon. I’d keep his villa. “Where the hell is he?”

He smiled, but in a condescending way. “He warned us that you’d ask too many questions.”

“Well, duh. I was taken against my will to a foreign country and just lived through the most traumatic event of my life.” The fog was still sticking in my head, and the humming of the other voices was louder than ever. I began feeling dizzy.

Tommaso rushed to my side frightfully fast, grabbing my arm to move me to the couch. “Let me help you.”

His powerful grip pinched. I was about to yelp but decided a gasp was more appropriate; some pervert had dressed me in a flimsy white nightgown. Quite see-through.

“Ohmygod.” I quickly sat and covered my chest with my arms. “Did you put me in this?”

“No,” he said flatly. “The men got to draw straws. I lost.”

I snapped my head up in his direction; he was hovering over me, arms crossed again. It was apparently easier to keep the huge stick up his ass that way.

“Don’t worry. You were
well
supervised,” he said with a suggestive edge.

Knife. Gun. Atomic bomb. These men were going to die a slow painful death if I had anything to do with it.

“I want real clothes, and I’ll dress myself.”

Tommaso bowed his head. “I’ll have some brought immediately. And if there’s anything else you need—”

“A phone.” My parents, who’d been expecting me to call, would have contacted the hotel by now and found out I hadn’t checked in. They’d be beyond panicked, especially considering our history with disappearing family members.

“Sorry, no calls. Mr. Santiago said you’d just get yourself deeper in trouble.”

Crap. Of all possible scenarios, this was the one I’d feared the most: becoming Guy’s prisoner. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t. I decided to throw a little-girl-in-distress Tommaso’s way to see if that got me anywhere.

“Me? Did he happen to mention all of horrific, deceitful things he’s done to me? Or, how he’s almost gotten me killed twice? Did he tell you that he’s haunted me my entire life, nearly driving me insane?”

He reached inside his coat pocket and handed me a small pad of paper and a pen. “Anything else you need, write it down.” He turned for the door.

Don’t give up, Emma.
“But, my family—everyone’s going to think the worst. After what they’ve been through with my grandmother, they have to know I’m okay.”

He paused, gripping the doorknob. A tiny flicker of emotion moved across his face. “If you contact them, they won’t have to think the worst. The Maaskab are very skilled at their spying and magic. They will trace the call, and you’ll be as good as dead.”

“That’s not possible. Who would want to hurt me? I’m just some girl from Manhattan. That’s it.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” He flashed a glare.

“No. Matter fact—I don’t. Even if Guy was right about the priests, how in the world would they know who I am, or who my parents are? You guys brought me straight here, right? Not a soul knows I went to the cenote except for that little boy—who has no clue who I am—and…”

I stood up, now too confused and shocked to care about modesty. “Unless. Rosa and Arturo? You think they’d help the Maaskab?”

“I don’t think, I know,” he said.

“No way. That sweet old couple wouldn’t do that.”

Did I really know that for a fact? Just because Rosa was my beloved grandmother’s sister didn’t mean she cared about me. But I had to believe the blood tie meant something. I had to. I was fully planning to talk to Rosa again and learn all I could about her and any other relatives I might have. There could be a whole slew of second aunts and uncles, even cousins. But why hadn’t my grandma told me about them? Or my parents? Did they even know?

Then another thought sprang into my head.

Oh, no…

“My parents? Are they okay? Are they safe?”

“You may rely on it,” he said with that exotic accent.

“Sorry. I don’t speak Magic 8-Ball.”

“They are acting like parents who have a missing daughter. If you contact them, if they behave differently, the Maaskab will know and use them as leverage—they are hoping for this.”

This situation was far worse than I imagined. How had my life taken such a sad little detour when I was supposed to be on the road to normal?

The tears began streaming down my face. “Why do they want me? Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” I asked. Yes. Yes. More questions.

He opened the door and stepped out shaking his head. “I should have known getting the short straw wouldn’t be worth it. You do ask too many questions.”

Short straw? The lying, heartless thug.

An hour later, a nameless, cold-faced man returned with a tray of fresh pasta, warm bread, and a few bags of brand new comfort clothes: yoga pants, tees, a few sports bras, and…pink thong underwear? Well, of course. Wouldn’t want to be held prisoner
and
have panty lines.

I rifled through the bathroom and found tons of other supplies, like the most amazing conditioner, a fresh toothbrush, and a bottle of Flower Bomb. A five star prison.

But despite the attention to detail and hundred dollar hair products, I was still being held against my will and I was very cranky. My parents would be worried sick, and for what? There had to be a way to let them know I was alive and warn them about the Maaskab without putting them in more danger.

Heck, I wasn’t even sure I bought this whole Maaskab, evil-threat thing to begin with. When I thought about it, what did I really know? Only what Guy and his evil crony told me. Who the hell were they, anyway? For all I knew,
they
could be the bad guys.

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Captivity. Day Two.

I snuggled deeper inside the bed, grimacing and trying to ignore the buzzing voices; once again the volume had been turned way up. I wished I could understand what they were saying.

My eyes fluttered open. “Christ! Where’d you come from?” Tommaso was lurking at my bedside, staring down.
Cree-py.

I flicked on the bedside lamp. Needless to say, he looked way better than me. He was dressed in a pinstriped suit with a dark blue shirt that molded perfectly to his sturdy man-model frame. Sickening. Men really shouldn’t be so pretty. Especially when I had a very bad case of bed-fro from tossing and turning for hours.

I sat up, grabbed a stretchy rubber band thing I’d found in the bathroom, and wrangled my madness of curls into a ponytail.

“Always with the questions,” he said, shaking his head.

I glanced down at my clothes just to be sure he hadn’t played Barbie and redressed me in a pink negligee.

Relief. Still wearing my tee and yoga pants, and yes, pink thong. “Shove it. What do you want?”

“You looked distressed. Are you not feeling well?” he asked.

How could he...“
What, you guys are watching me? Are there cameras in here?” My head swiveled around the room.

He didn’t answer, so that meant “yes.”

“Darn it. I’d better not end up on Youtube,” I warned. I pulled the white down comforter to my chin.

“Is something wrong with you?” he asked again. I assumed he meant my physical health, but he may have been questioning my overall sanity. In either case, I refused to answer him; I wasn’t big on polite lies, so I wasn’t going to say “no.” And whining seemed pointless, not to mention weak. But truthfully, I felt utterly sick; the buzzing from the other voices was getting louder, and I couldn’t sleep.

“Do you have any Ambien around here?” I asked. If he said “no,” my next request would be for a dozen, hot dogs or some other equally fattening, comfort food.

“Are you not feeling well?” Tommaso asked again robotically.

“I’m the question-asker, remember?”

“Mr. Santiago wants you well cared for. So, if you’re not feeling well, I will send for a doctor. There—not a question.”

Was he for real? “Ambien. Please bring some. There—not a question,” I said with a deep, mocking voice.

There was no hint of amusement on his face. Maybe making fun of him wasn’t the best tactic. I needed him in my camp so I could find out what was going on, and perhaps, even get a message to my parents. If I were super lucky, he’d help me strangle Guy when the time came.

Time to switch tactics again. “I can’t sleep because I’m worried sick. My family thinks something awful’s happened, and I’m their only daughter. Can you imagine how that feels for them when I’ve never been away for more than a few days—”

“This doesn’t concern me,” he interrupted coldly.

I saw it again, emotion undulating just below the surface. “Of course it concerns you,” I argued. “You’re the one keeping me here.”

“Your family would feel much worse if you were dead. Do you have any idea of how much danger you’re in?” he asked.

I shuffled out of bed and planted myself squarely in front of him. “How would I know? No one’s telling me anything, even though this is my life. Shouldn’t I decide if I want protection? What if I die like my grandmother? For what, I don’t know because you won’t tell me, but then you’ve robbed me of my last chance to see or speak to the people I love. Don’t I deserve to know what’s going on, to make the choice?”

His golden eyes looked troubled. I was definitely getting to him. “Please,” I grabbed his arm and stared into his eyes, hoping to dig an emotional grappling hook in him. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want my parents to die, but I’m not a child. Guy has no right to keep me in the dark like this or to keep me prisoner. Let me decide if I should take the risk and tell my parents I’m alive.”

He let out a long sigh and ran both hands through his tousled hair. His strong jaw worked a bit, and then, as if someone had pushed a button reactivating robot-mode, he went rigid.

He cleared his throat, tugged at one sleeve, and then straightened his square, silver cufflink. “I’m sorry—”

“Emma, my name is Emma Keane.” I remembered that the first thing about connecting with people was getting them to remember your full name.

“Miss Keane, I understand everything you’re saying, trust me. But I made a vow, and I don’t intend to break it. There would be far greater consequences for everyone if I did.”

“What sort of consequences? From Guy? Would he hurt you if you helped me?”

“Mr. Santiago would be one of many consequences, yes.”

“What would he do? What is he?”

Tommaso’s eyes flushed with amusement.

“What?” I asked.

“You really don’t know, do you?” He made a small chuckle.

How rude.
“Why do you keep asking me that? Obviously, I don’t. Thus the incessant string of questions pouring from my mouth with an irritated tone.”

“Then, you’ll have to trust me. You don’t ever want Mr. Santiago or any of his…associates on your bad side.”

“Mr. Guy Santiago can kiss my ass.”

Tommaso snickered. “Well, you can tell him when he arrives. I’m sure he’d oblige you since you look like his type.”

Guy has a type?
“How would you know?”

He flashed a dimpled smile, and I have to admit, even for a jerk, it was a really nice smile. “You’re everyone’s type, Emma.”

Everyone? News to me. Maybe someone should send “everyone” a memo.

He added, “And I doubt he’d go through so much trouble keeping you safe if he didn’t feel something for you.”

“You’re wrong. He’s just got some twisted, overly protective, father-complex.”

“Uh-huh,” he said condescendingly.

“When will he be back anyway?” I sat back down on the bed, crossing my arms.