Page 29 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

The latch at the bottom of the door opened, and the breakfast tray scraped across the floor into the cell. Still only one portion. Were they trying to starve me on purpose, or testing Monster’s empathy?

I picked it up and set it on the small wooden table beside his unfinished puzzle. I nudged a few pieces, searching for one to add to the image of a wild black horse running across moorland. A piece slipped to the floor, and I bent to pick it up. At the back of the table, hidden against the stones, lay a pencil. My eyes lit up.

I crawled towards it and snatched it.

It had been killing me not to compose or play music since being locked down here. I’d been feeling strangely inspired, cooped up in this prison with a man just as ominous. A haunting melody of sadness, loneliness and rage had been playing on repeat in my mind, and now I’d be able to see the notes on the page. I grabbed an old book from the shelf and sat back down in the armchair.

Glancing up, I checked Monster was still passed out cold and scribbled in the margins, softly humming the notes for the first time. Monster stirred, groaning as his body shifted on the mattress.

Once I was convinced he wasn’t concussed, I’d let him fall asleep. His body clearly needed the rest, and he didn’t even wake when I carefully redressed his wounds early this morning. He was healing surprisingly well, and the swelling on his face had gone down. It was the dark bruising across his ribs that concerned me most. He should have been taken to a hospital after a beating that severe, and I couldn’t believe they hadn’t sent a doctor to check on him.

Why did he do this for them? Perhaps he had agreed to fight for Sean to gain some freedom, to keep himself from going mad, to get out of this bunker every day, and to earn small pleasures like his ink, books or puzzles. How long had this been his life? Hopefully, now that we’d let our guards down around each other, he might answer some questions.

I nudged his foot with mine, hoping to rouse him gently. He needed to eat to regain his energy. He grumbled, blinking his eyes open and looking at me. His messy black hair and sleepy expression made him look almost boyish for the first time, and I wondered how old he was. He was definitely older than me; I guessed mid-thirties.

“Breakfast,” I said, going back to my scribbling notes.

“You eat it.”

I paused, peering at him through my lashes and frowning. He’d never offered me the whole plate before. He’d always eaten first, then left me with half.

“You need to eat.”

“So do you.”

“You’re injured and need to recover.”

“You’re talkin’ too much. Eat. Don’t eat,” he grunted, throwing his arm over his face. “I don’t fuckin’ care.”

Wow, grumpy much? Clearly, he wasn’t a morning person. Then I realised he was probably snappy because he was in agony.

“Do you want some more para–”

“No.”

I got up anyway and grabbed the pills. I held them up to his face, a glass of water in my other hand. He turned his back on me, rolling towards the wall.

I huffed. “At least eat something. Please.”

“I liked it better when you didn’t talk.”

I glared. He was trying to push me away, to put distance between us again. But I wouldn’t go back to how it had been. We’d made progress.

“You’re being an asshole.”

“I am an asshole.”

“Assholes still need to eat.”

“Fuck off, will ya? Care about someone who wants it.”

Anger pierced through my concern. He didn’t want my help. Fine. Screw him.

I threw the pills at his back and dumped the glass of water over his head. He jolted, then twisted to look at me. I gulped at the instant fury in his eyes. Then I made the second biggest mistake of my life so far.

Squealing like a startled pig, I tried to run. His hand shot out and grabbed the back of my hoodie. With a single, powerful tug, he yanked me back, and I fell onto the mattress. He was on top of me in seconds, pinning me beneath his weight and insane strength. I pushed at his chest with my fists, but he was so solid that it had no effect. He growled, baring his teeth at me as water droplets zig-zagged down the sharp angles of his face. My heart raced. Something had changed in his eyes. A hollowness I’d only glimpsed before had taken full control; beastly, unhinged, and downright terrifying. He hadn’t even looked that way when he tried to strangle me.

I screamed as he fisted the front of my hoodie and hauled me to my feet. He threw me over his shoulder and stormed into the bathroom. I raked my nails down his back, clawing and kicking until he dropped me and shoved me up against the tiles, his hand at my throat.