Spiralled

Chapter - 17

Olivia’s PoV

I swear I could hear the bells of heaven after I f*****g died in this place.

“I d-don’t k-know anyone named Marcello Bellini.”

“Not a very good lier Ms. Olivia Martin.” The man chuckled.

“I really don’t know.” I said firmly. “I don’t know who that man is.”

“So you are telling you weren’t talking on phone with him?”

I bit my lips in anxiety and sighed. “I’m not lying. I just got a call from a man claiming to be the one you are mentioning that’s all. He’s not my f*****g buddy.”

“We will decide if you are buddies or not.” He snarled.

“La ragazza ci porta al rifugio. Non possiamo correre rischi con Bellini. (the girl comes us to the safehouse. we can't take any risks with Bellini)” The man in the middle said.

With that he got up and f**k me if wasn’t a tall, towering, built like a f*****g building. His hands looked like they could hold me and throw me across the room without breaking any sweat.

Everyone got up after him and I tried to scramble back. One of the men who tossed me on the floor earlier held me up and dragged me after the men.

Like a bag of garbage, I was tied up and threw in back of an SUV once more. My mouth was gagged.

I feared for my life, thinking finally they were going to kill me and throw me into a ditch somewhere.

The drive was full of anxiety and terror. My thoughts were all over the place. I didn’t even know where the hell I was and I knew that my friends and family were so worried about me.

I was dragged into a back ally after the drive ended and hauled through a back door of some sort of building.

I was trapped between scary looking thugs. My heart was racing so bad I could hear it in my ears. We entered what looked like a warehouse with multiple men guarding it.

They tied me to a random chair in middle of the area, taping my mouth shut.

I finally noticed all the bruises and dried wounds on my body. It didn’t look pretty. I’m sure I looked like a train wreck.

“f**k me.” I mumbled.

I hated the sight of blood, it revolted me. Seeing a lot of it on my clothes and body had my skin crawling.

I felt heated stares on me to see every single man around ten metre radius has his eyes on me. I felt dirty, exposed. It made me squirm in my chair.

But the armed men didn’t bother as much as the one standing upstairs, leaning on the railing with a cigarette in his hand.

He scared me, the aura he carried around said he owns everything he touches and looks at. And right now he was looking at me.

My jaw clenched and I looked away from his piercing eyes.

“Capo, l'affare è concluso. Abbiamo inchiodato quei figli di puttana. (boss the deal is done. we nailed those motherfuckers)” a man spoke loudly, walking in with three other men. “e cosa abbiamo qui? (Abbas what do we got here.)” he looked at me and smirked.

I glared at him.

He walked right to me, leaning down in my face.

“Hello darling.” He said with heavy Italian accent.

“Se la tocchi, Carlo, ti strappo la mano. (If you touch her Carlo, i will rip your hand off.)” the boss man said and the one breathing on me backed off with a scowl.

He muttered simmering under his breath and walked away from me.

The one who gave orders said something to men around me and they got me up from the chair and took me up where a small cabin was. I was pushed inside and the door closed.

There he stood, smoking another cigarette.

I could feel the tension in the air. Somehow, I preferred being tied downstairs than being alone with this menacing man.

“Why am I here?” I asked quietly. My hands were still tied.

“Take a seat Ms. Martin.” He pointed to a small chair.

I sat down.

“How do you know my sister?” He said puffing out smoke.

“Huh? What sister?” Now I was confused even more.

“Angelina Romano.” He spat out and the picture was suddenly more clear.

“You are the brother she always bitched about.” I snorted.

He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped to me. He pulled my chair, his both hands on the handles, invading my personal space.

I stared into his eyes, not able to decide whether his eyes were blue, green or grey. His lips were too damn tempting. I swear his face looked like the god was in good f*****g mood. His musky, manly perfume invaded my nose and I swooned completely forgetting he was my captor and probably going to be my killer too.

But apart from that, his face up close was familiar. There was no mistake, he was the boy in one of the pictures I found in my mother’s box along with Angelina.

“We both know you are not in any position of taunting and teasing me. I don’t particularly have a lot of patience today.” He said with cold anger. “You better tell me what you have got to do with my sister.”

I gulped, speechless and captivated. Why did such a good looking man have to be my captor.

“Speak.” He commanded and tears pooled my eyes.

All the memories of me committing the niece came crashing on me. I didn’t want to recall that day.

“I…I can’t say anything I’m sorry.” I mumbled crying.

He sighed in irritation.

“Refusal and crying are among the things that I hate the most. No one ever says no to me and crying isn’t going to save you.”

His deep voice and cold threats had my core shivering with fear. There was no way I was going to confess killing someone.

I looked away.

He gripped my jaw and made me face him, coming even closer, too closer. I could smell his cigarette breath.

“Please. I….”

“If I have to repeat myself you are going down to the prison cells.” He threatened.

“It hurts.” I cried. He was gripping my chin too hard.

“If you think I don’t kill women think again. You are a liability to me right now and I will not hesitate to dispose you.”