Lovenap

Chapter 2

As the girl fumbled with her keys, trying to slot them into the ignition, they slipped from her trembling fingers and clattered onto the floor mat with a sharp metallic jingle. Frustrated, she grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, closed her eyes, and let out a deep, defeated sigh. The cool leather creaked under her tight grip, and her shoulders slumped in a way that was both endearing and hilarious.

Dimitri smiled, quietly watching the whole scene unfold from the passenger seat. For the first time in a long time, he was thoroughly entertained — genuinely captivated by this tiny whirlwind of chaos who had somehow decided to kidnap him. Most people in his world were predictable. She was anything but.

He leaned down smoothly, his fingers brushing the soft carpeted floor mat as he retrieved the keys. With a quick twist, he brought the engine roaring to life. The low, powerful rumble vibrated through the seats and into his chest.

The girl’s eyes flew open in shock. “How did you—?”

Dimitri flashed her a playful grin, the dashboard lights casting warm shadows across his face. “Sorry, Zayka. Looked like you needed a hand.”

She narrowed her big brown eyes in annoyance but said nothing. She shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, leaving a bewildered Nikolai standing alone in the parking lot, hands still half-raised in disbelief.

Dimitri relaxed into the passenger seat. The supple red leather was warm and buttery beneath him, the interior spotless and smelling faintly of vanilla air freshener mixed with her own soft, warm scent — something sweet and comforting that wrapped around him like an invitation. His gaze wandered across the polished wood and chrome accents until it landed on the visor above her head. A small clip held a photo: her without the mask, smiling brightly with an older man’s arm slung proudly around her shoulders. Recognition hit him like a punch.

A sharp pang of jealousy twisted in his chest. “Are you Tony’s girlfriend? Wife?”

She glanced over, confused, then followed his eyes to the picture. Her nose scrunched up adorably. “What? Ew, no! That’s my papa!”

Relief washed over him like cool water, easing the unexpected tension in his shoulders. “That makes more sense. So you’re Italian, huh? What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know it,” she replied, trying to keep her voice flat and serious even as her hands tightened on the wheel. “All you need to know is that I have the gun, and you do as I say.”

Dimitri raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Whatever you say, Zayka.”

The drive stretched through the glittering Chicago streets, city lights reflecting off the windshield and dancing across her focused expression. After some time, she pulled into the parking garage of a sleek luxury hotel. She killed the engine and awkwardly tried to hide the gun under her jacket, the heavy metal pressing against her ribs as she fumbled with the fabric.

Dimitri followed her obediently through the elegant lobby, taking his time admiring the graceful sway of her hips and the confident click of her heels on the polished marble floor. The air carried the faint, luxurious scent of fresh lilies and aged wood. Staff and guests gave her respectful nods but said nothing as she passed, clearly recognizing her.

They rode the elevator up to the penthouse in charged silence. At the keypad, she paused, crinkled her nose in thought, and reached up to clumsily cover his eyes with her soft little hand. He still heard the faint beeps — 7968 — but said nothing, enjoying the brief warmth of her touch against his skin.

Inside, the penthouse was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the sparkling Chicago skyline, a sea of twinkling lights that stretched endlessly into the night. Plush cream leather furniture begged to be touched, and beautiful landscape paintings adorned the walls, adding warmth and depth. An open kitchen gleamed with top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances.

“Sit,” she commanded, her velvety voice cutting through the quiet.

He obeyed without hesitation, sinking into the soft couch. The leather gave warmly under his weight, enveloping him like a gentle embrace.

She disappeared into an adjacent room. He heard drawers opening, items clattering and dropping with muffled thuds, followed by a few quiet curses. When she returned, she held a silky black sleep mask in one hand and a long silk ribbon in the other.

She stood in front of him, nervously biting her plump lower lip. “Hands.”

Dimitri raised his wrists, pressing them together. Her soft, warm fingers brushed against his skin as she wrapped the cool, slippery silk ribbon around them. The fabric was smooth and luxurious — tied far too loosely. He could have slipped free in an instant if he wanted. He had no intention of doing so.

He looked up into her wide brown eyes as she lifted the sleep mask. “You know… you don’t have to blindfold me. You can take that mask off too. I already know what you look like.”

Her hands froze mid-air. Realization washed over her face, followed by a quiet Italian curse muttered under her breath. With a heavy sigh, she dropped the mask onto the coffee table and collapsed into the nearby armchair in defeat. She reached up and yanked off her half-mask, revealing her full face — sweet, plump pink lips, flushed cheeks, and those captivating doe eyes now fully exposed.

Dimitri couldn’t stop staring. He imagined crashing his mouth against hers, how incredibly soft those lips would feel under his, how they might part with a sigh, how it would feel to gently catch her juicy bottom lip between his teeth and savor the taste of her.

The silence shattered when his stomach growled loudly, the deep rumble breaking the tension like a c***k of thunder.

“Sorry, Zayka,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

She sighed, pushed herself up from the chair, and walked into the kitchen. She slipped on a striped apron — red, green, and white — with bold text across the chest: Italians Do It Better.

Dimitri smirked. It suited her perfectly.

He watched her gracefully navigate the kitchen, the fabric of her clothes shifting with each movement, the soft clink of utensils and the sizzle of pancetta filling the air. After some time, she returned with a plate of pasta and placed it on the coffee table with a proud little smile.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made carbonara. Hope you like it!”

The savory aroma of crispy pancetta, rich creamy sauce, and fresh parmesan rose up, making his mouth water instantly.

She frowned when he didn’t immediately dig in. “Do you not like pasta? Should I order something else?”

Dimitri raised his still-tied hands, the silk sliding smoothly against his wrists. “I would, but you tied my hands, remember?” He gave her an innocent smile, eyes sparkling with mischief.

She pursed her lips, clearly torn between her “kidnapper” role and her instincts, then sat down close beside him on the couch. The heat of her thigh brushed warmly against his. She twirled a generous bite of pasta onto the fork and lifted it to his mouth.

Dimitri opened for her, never breaking eye contact. The rich, creamy flavor exploded across his tongue — perfectly balanced, salty, comforting, and surprisingly heartfelt.

He hummed in deep satisfaction. “Delicious.”

Her eyes lit up with genuine excitement. “Oh thank goodness! I’m so glad you like it!”

As if suddenly remembering she was supposed to be his intimidating captor, she tried to school her face into a serious expression and continued feeding him bite after bite. The intimate act felt dangerously charged in the quiet penthouse, the air thick with unspoken tension and the occasional brush of her fingers against his lips.

When the plate was finally clean, she led him down the hall to a guest bedroom. “This is where you’ll be sleeping tonight. Let me know if you need anything — I’ll be right down the hall.”

He raised his bound wrists with a sheepish look. “I promise I won’t get up to anything… but do you think you could untie me for the night?”

“Okay, but no funny business!”

“Scout’s honor.”

She quickly untied the silk ribbon, her fingers lingering a second longer than necessary against his skin, sending a spark of heat through him. Then she hurried to her own room, leaving him alone with a smile and the growing certainty that he was already in way over his head.