His Virgin Stripper

27- He Sent For Me

Sienna

Two days had passed since I woke up screaming in an unfamiliar room. Two days of staring at the same high ceiling, eating food brought up on silver trays, and letting my body slowly process the trauma of what happened.

I sat propped up against the pillows, my legs crossed tightly under the heavy blankets. Roxy sat right at the foot of the bed, her fingers nervously tracing the hem of the sheet.

Near the dresser, the private doctor was quietly packing his tools into a sleek leather medical bag.

He didn't say a word to us. He kept his head down, maintaining a tight-lipped, cold professionalism that seemed to be a requirement for anyone breathing the air in this house.

He checked my eyes one last time, nodded to himself, and began rolling up his gauges.

The silence in the room stretched until the doctor finally snapped his bag shut. He gave a stiff, formal nod toward the bed and walked out, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

The moment the latch clicked, I let out a breath I felt like I'd been holding for forty-eight hours. I looked over at Roxy.

We hadn't truly had a moment to just sit down and piece the wreckage together without someone watching us

"I still feel like I'm going to wake up in our actual rental," I whispered, my voice sounding thin in the vast space of the room. "Like none of this actually happened."

Roxy let out a dry, humorless laugh, leaning back against the wooden bedpost.

"Sienna, look around. This isn't just real. Everything that's been happening around us for the past three days is straight out of a thriller novel. The car chases, gunshots through the glass, getting dragged into the woods by giants. It’s insane. I keep waiting for a director to yell "cut."

"Don't remind me," I said, a shudder violently rippling through my shoulders as my mind flashed back to the sound of the window shattering.

"When those men told us to get out of the car in that alley, I thought that was the end. I thought we were being walked to our graves. My ear was bleeding, my head was spinning, and I just couldn't fight them. I hated myself for just freezing up like that."

"Hey, don't do that to yourself," Roxy said, her eyes softening as she pointed a finger at me.

"You fainted because your body couldn't take the shock. You didn't give up. And honestly? Seeing you drop like that made me lose my mind. I was screaming at those driver guys like they were the ones who shot at us in the first place."

"I heard you," I murmured, a faint smile touching my lips before it faded. "Right before the darkness took over. I heard you screaming at them to help lift me up. And then in the car, when we were hitting those corners too fast. I felt the swerving. I thought we were going to flip over."

"We almost did," Roxy muttered, rubbing her arms as if she could still feel the cold night air from two days ago.

"Those men don't know how to drive like normal citizens. They drive like they’re trying to outrun an explosion. And the guards here? Christ, Sienna. Have you seen the security downstairs?"

I nodded slowly, my chest tightening as the reality of our isolation settled in. "I saw two of them standing at the end of the hallway when Enzo opened the door yesterday. They don't even look like regular bodyguards. They look more like brick walls."

"Exactly!" Roxy exclaimed, tossing her hands up in the air, glad to finally voice the panic we’d been suppressing.

"They're everywhere. Towering over the patio, guarding the kitchen, standing by the gates. Bulky, massive men with weapons hidden under their suits, just staring into space. It's terrifying.”

She reduced her voice like they were eavesdropping “Every time I walk past one to get a glass of water from the kitchen, I feel like if I breathe too loud, they would snap my neck without changing their expressions. They have this permanent grimace on their faces like they hate the entire world."

She paused, a strange, wicked glint suddenly replacing the fear in her eyes. She leaned forward, a grin spreading across her face.

"Honestly, though? If they just put a smile on their faces instead of the grimace they wear all the time, they would actually look hot. Like, devastatingly hot. Big, dangerous, and smiling? Sign me up. I might actually forget we’re trapped."

A shocked laugh burst out of my throat. I leaned forward and violently slapped the side of her head, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Ow! What?" Roxy yelped, rubbing her temple but still giggling.

"You are crazy!" I yelled, laughing through the residual tension in my gut. "Are you serious right now? We are literally being held in a fortified mansion after a hit squad tried to kill us, and you are evaluating how hot the guards are? What is wrong with your brain?"

"Hey, a girl has to cope somehow," Roxy shot back, her smile widening as she shrugged. "If I'm going to be trapped in a luxury fortress surrounded by weapons, I might as well enjoy the view.”

A dramatic sigh left her lips. “A smile goes a long way, Sienna. That’s all I’m saying. A little customer service wouldn't hurt these giants."

The laughter died down as quickly as it had come, leaving a heavy, hollow quiet in its wake.

The amusement drained from Roxy's face, her expression turning sober, almost cautious. She looked away from me, her fingers going back to picking at the silk sheets.

"But seriously," Roxy said, her voice dropping to a lower, quieter register. "I haven't seen or heard a single thing from Marcello since the attack. Not a text, not a call, nothing. I’ve only heard his name mentioned a couple of times when Enzo was on the phone downstairs, and even then, Enzo acts like he’s talking about some ghost."

The mention of his name hit me like a physical blow. My heart did a slow, heavy roll in my chest.

Marcello.

I leaned back against the pillows again, my eyes drifting toward the large glass windows that looked out over the dense tree line surrounding the property.

I hadn't allowed myself to think for the past forty-eight hours because every time I did, the confusion threatened to swallow me. But now, with Roxy laying it out in the open, the questions came rushing back, violent and unyielding.

Where could he be?

Was he safe? Was he currently hiding out somewhere, nursing the chaos that followed the shooting, or was he out there in the city, actively dealing with the aftermath?

My mind kept looping back to the way he carried himself, the authority he had over these terrifying men, and the fact that he had the power to dump us in a high-security mansion with a simple phone call.

He felt like something much darker, something much more dangerous. The thought of him sent a cold spike of anxiety through my stomach, twisting my intestines into knots.

Roxy watched me, recognizing the exact moment my thoughts started to spiral into the dark. She reached out, placing a hand over my trembling knee. "Sienna, he's Marcello. He probably has a million things to clean up after a mess like that. He’ll call."

I couldn't answer. The turmoil in my chest was too loud. I just kept staring at the woods, wondering what kind of life I had accidentally stepped into.

As if sensing that we were talking about him—as if his name carried some dark, magnetic current that could alter the air in the house; a sharp, heavy knock rattled against the bedroom door.

Both Roxy and I jumped, our eyes snapping to the dark wood.

The heavy door creaked open slowly, and one of those massive, bulky guards stepped into the threshold. His face was set in that exact grimace Roxy had just been mocking, his shoulders completely blocking the view of the hallway behind him.

He didn't look at Roxy. His cold, detached eyes locked instantly onto mine.

"Sienna," the guard said, his voice a flat, robotic rumble that offered no emotion. "Marcello has sent for you."

The words hung in the quiet room like a blade. My breath caught in my throat. The fragile safety of the last two days vanished in a single second.

My heart sank completely, dropping like a stone into the dark pit of my stomach as the reality of his world pulled me back in.