La Vita Dolce Ch. 14

The room was illuminated by track lighting and they were not in some corner basement room as Natasha had supposed. It was a bedroom. Sparse, but furnished with a bed, nightstand and lamp, a chair, a large armoire at the opposite end of the room with a large padlock on it. There was a small bathroom off the bedroom. She hoped she lived long enough for it to matter. There was a single painting upon the wall and two large picture windows at the far end of the bedroom. She and Morgan glanced at the windows at the same time, shot each other a a look darted towards them.

They wrenched the window open and leaned out. Morgan gasped and quickly withdrew, backpedaling. Natasha gazed down, the wind whipping her hair around her face, cursing the absurdity of California real estate. The home was set right upon the cliffs, the back of the house built into the side. It was a sheer drop from the windows to the rocks and surf below.

She swallowed her panic and drew a deep breath and drew back inside, closing the window behind her. The house was, without a doubt, a prime piece of real estate but its landscape was definitely not conducive to their escape.

She pulled the short silk robe closer around her body as she glanced about the room for something she could use. The room had obviously been stripped of anything that could be used as a weapon.

The large padlocked armoire was of definite significance. If only she could get into it. Morgan was gazing at her. She crossed her arms over the skimpy bathing suit cover up she was wearing. "What are you thinking?"

"How to get into that armoire," she said absently. She was staring at the lamp on the bedside nightstand. It had a heavy ornate wrought iron base. Natasha strode to it and yanked the plug from the wall. She unscrewed the light bulb and set it aside. Looking around her she grabbed one of the pillows from the bed and tugged off the pillowcase. She wrapped the pillowcase around the end of the light stand closest to the empty bulb socket. It would protect her hands.

"Natasha," came Morgan's soft warning voice.

"What?" Natasha looked over her shoulder at Morgan.

Morgan was pointing to the corner ceiling of the room where a video camera was mounted, red light blinking.

Natasha could feel hope deflating. They would know every move she made.

Suddenly Morgan grabbed the lamp stand from her, casually handing her the pillowcase. Taking a few steps towards the camera Morgan drew back her arm and hurled the lamp stand at the camcorder. Plastic shattered and rained down on the carpeted floor. The remainder of the camera was a mangled mess of wires on the wall. It was not recording anything.

Morgan picked up the lamp post and handed it back to Natasha. "Go to it. They'll probably be here soon."

Natasha stared at her in shock a moment before quickly wrapping the pillowcase around the lamp base once more. She went to the armoire and hefted the lamp like a baseball bat, keeping her gaze on the padlock as she swung the heavy iron fixture as hard as she could. Though she'd padded it, the shock of the blow reverberated painfully up her arm. She swung again and again, putting all of her rage and fear into the motion. Finally the lock fell, broken to the floor.

Morgan rushed forward and wrenched open heavy wooden doors of the armoire. Both women gasped in horror and stared. The armoire was a sadists paradise: whips, handcuffs and chains, nipple clamps , collars, and assorted dildos in various colors and outrageous sizes. There were also small scalpels and knives.

"Oh my God," Morgan breathed in dismay.

Natasha's heart clenched in her chest. If she was going to die, it wasn't going to be like this. "Help me, they're coming," she said urgently as she began grabbing things from their hooks on the walls of the armoire.

"Wha--" Morgan began when Natasha hauled one of the windows open and flung the contents of her arms out and into the ocean below.

Natasha was panting. "We--" she gasped, "really don't want this stuff around."

Morgan gazed at the armoire, her green gaze widening. "Right." She began grabbing everything she could lay her hands on.

Natasha grabbed the room's single chair and dragged it to the door, shoving the back of the chair under the doorknob. It wouldn't stop anyone throwing their weight against the door but it would stall.

She raced back to the armoire as shouts came from the hallway, the doorknob was jangled, and then there was the sound of a body hitting the door and the chair was skidding millimeter by millimeter across the carpet.

The girls had emptied the contents of the armoire when the chair skidded across the room and the door burst in, two men who Natasha recognized coming in. They were both relatively young, heavily muscled, and dressed in the black camo. She and Natasha froze at the windows as the men came towards them.

Natasha felt a strong hand grasp her arm and yank her away from the window. She had intended to feign docility but she simply couldn't bring herself to do it. She fought, kicking and clawing at the large man who was struggling to subdue her. She panicked as he brought forth a pair of handcuffs and she felt the cool metal close around one of her wrists. He jerked her struggling form against his body, hauling her free hand behind her to secure the other cuff. Natasha did the only thing she could think of, she brought her knee up hard, catching him between the legs. He let out a strangled cry but did not go down. Natasha found herself thinking, 'what do they feed these guys, iron filings?' Instead he shoved her, the back of her legs hitting the edge of the bed and she went down on her back, the air slammed from her lungs as he went down on top of her. She struggled beneath him but he was too heavy.

Rising so that he straddled her hips he grabbed her firmly and flipped her over onto her back cuffing her other wrist. Natasha cursed and writhed frantically.

The man rolled forcefully onto her back, "SHUT UP!"

Natasha halted stunned. And the man above her took his time in perusing her. She was breathing hard, her hands cuffed behind her thrusting her full breasts upward. Her springy curls were fanned out around her head. She was gazing up at him with wide-eyed hatred.

The short silk robe she wore had parted during their struggle, revealing a swath of smooth golden brown skin between her breasts down to her belly button. He felt himself harden and a thin smile slid over his features. No wonder this Angiolini was so desperate to have her, even taking her from his own brother.

He trailed his fingertips down her collarbone and over the curve of the outside of her breast, lightly brushing aside the fabric to reveal her full dusky tipped orbs to his view. She wriggled furious beneath him, cursing him all the while. He grinned in amusement.at the enraged woman.

"Hey," he called to his friend who had the redhead stomach down in the carpet and was cuffing her as well. "What do you say we have a little fun with these two? I say we deserve a little fun."

She glared up at him, her strange azure gaze shooting icy sparks at him.

He placed a finger on her full bottom lip, dragging it down lightly with a low groan. That's when she bit him hard enough to break the skin. With a cry he yanked his hand away.

"Bitch" he growled and drew his hand back. Her eyes widened and he struck her hard across the face. He would have struck her again were it not for the unmistakable and audible click of a gun next to his head.

He froze. "Get off her now," came Luca Angiolini's low growl.

Raising his hands in surrending, the man carefully eased off the bed to stand before his current employer who was pointing a gun at his head. At that moment he would have faced the devil himself rather than the Italian standing in front of him whose features were coldly set though his eyes glimmered with ill-restrained fury.

A muscle ticked in Luca's jaw, the equivalent of an emotional outburst. "What did you think you were doing touching her?"

The man's mouth opened and closed, his eyes darting to his partner for help who stood near the door now, averting his gaze. His eyes swung back to Luca Angiolini, to speak but the moment he opened his mouth, Angiolini's fist caught him with a hard left hook.

The man went down hard, feeling as though his eye socket had been shattered. But he was given no respite. Luca was grabbing him by his throat and hauling him to his feet, slamming him against the wall.

Luca glared at him, holding him in place with one hand, the other pressing the gun against his temple. He leaned close, his voice a deadly whisper. "You are never to touch her. Either of them. Do you understand?"

The man trembled against the wall. Luca rolled his eyes and snorted in disgust, pressing the gun harder against the man's head. "Understand?"

"Yes," the man wheezed through the scant amount of air Luca was allowing to pass into his lungs.

"Good," Luca released him abruptly and the man slid to the floor. "Now get out."

The man stumbled doggedly to his feet and out of the room. Luca glanced at the other man, still standing uncertainly by the door and gestured to Morgan who was half on her side, staring and open-mouthed at Luca. "Take her to the guest room. Do a thorough sweep. Make sure there's nothing, and I mean nothing they could use." He glanced speculatively at Natasha. "They seem rather inventive."

The man nodded absently as he hauled Morgan up from the floor. She looked like she would protest but one quelling look from Luca subdued that instinct.

The room emptied of distractions, he turned his silver gaze to the woman laying bound on the bed. His brother's woman.

The sight of her caused an immediate rush of arousal which he clenched his fist against. She was looking at him with a mixture of fear and wary fascination. He stood over her, his gaze roving leisurely over her body.

She shrank back into the mattress as though she were trying to disappear as he reached toward her. "Shh," he soothed as he carefully tugged the silken robe back into place although he allowed the backs of his fingers to slide softly over her breasts even as he covered them. He pulled her hem down over her honey brown thighs reverently, his hands grazing her skin once more.

She trembled violently and swallowed thickly, attempting to hold back the tears that shimmered on the brink of falling. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grim smile as he bent and lifted her into his arms. She shifted awkwardly, the chain of the handcuffs rattling, as he carried her from the room and down the spacious hallway to enter another room. He took her down the hallway and past the foyer, a man was standing there in an exquisitely tailored suit speaking in rapid Italian, his back to them. He turned when he heard Luca's footsteps. Natasha's heart dropped in her chest. Alejandro grinned wolfishly at her stunned expression and pursed his lips in a kissing motion as Luca carried her by in her speechless state.

The room was less sparsely decorated than the last but men were moving in and out, removing items even as Luca entered with her. Luca set her on her feet before him and gazed down at her with something indefinable in his gaze. "Perhaps you will come to me willingly now that you have seen the alternative." She flinched almost imperceptibly and he continued. "I am not a gentle man and I will not be with you. But no one else will touch you." He stepped closer to her, his chest brushing the tips of her breasts as his silver gaze searched her face. "What do you say, little one?"

She trembled, at his nearness and with fear, he thought. But Natasha was practically vibrating with fury. If her hands weren't cuffed behind her back, she was sure she could muster the strength to strangle him. Luca looked with wry amusement at the emotions flitting over the girl's pretty face. Her voice was low, and shook when she spoke. "Uncuff me please." She said, her voice husky and she pressed herself more fully against him. Luca's gaze darted to the man who had cuffed Morgan and gestured to Natasha. She gazed up into his face as she felt her hands being freed. His arms came around her crushing her fully against him, a low groan escaping his throat as his denim covered arousal pressed against her stomach. She slid her hands up over his chest to tangle her hands in his dark locks, dragging his face down to hers. She let her lips hover mere inches from his own.

He breathed her name in a tortured moan. She pulled his head down to gentle slope of her shoulder where he pressed his lips against the smooth skin there. Her breath caressed the shell of his ear as she brushed his dark hair back. "Luca, darling," she breathed.

"Hmm?" he responded, thoroughly distracted by the intoxicating scent that hovered about her flesh.

"You have your brother's hair, his nose, the shape of his eyes..." she pulled gently on his hair and brought his face to hers. Her breath fanned against his lips as she brought one hand to trace that curve. "You even have his lips." His breath was becoming labored now and he held her tighter against him, crushing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest.

He gazed down at the thick dark lowered lashes which fringed her eyelids. Her lashes flickered and then she was meeting his gaze unabashedly. The azure gaze that had been hooded and sultry just moments before were now hard and cool. Her voice had similarly cooled. "But you're not your brother," she hissed. "You disgust me and you had better kill me first because I swear I'll kill you myself if you touch me again."

Snarling, Luca gripped her shoulders tightly, his fingers digging bruisingly into her skin though she did not flinch. His face was close to hers. "That can be arranged easily enough, little one. Have no doubt."

He flung her away from him and she stumbled to catch herself. He looked at the men and the room about him, "You're done here. Get out and lock the door." And with that he turned on his heel. The men leaving swiftly behind him and locking the door.

Natasha pressed her back against the door, her legs trembling beneath her as she sank to the ground. A sob wrenched itself free from her throat and the tears were unleashed, flooding down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands. As if Luca Angiolini weren't enough to worry about Alejandro was involved somehow. She couldn't decide who'd she'd like less to face.

The door off the room which Natasha assumed was the bathroom was then yanked open and Morgan came striding out. "Well that went well." she remarked dryly though her eyes belied her worry.

She regarded Natasha silently before she sighed and sank to sit down next to her. "Hey, she said softly. "You can't fall apart now."

Natasha snorted and wiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands. "If you hadn't noticed, Morgan, now seems like a perfectly reasonable time to fall apart."

Morgan grimaced. "Look, I know we didn't get along in high school. I kind of hated you. And I still hate the way Colin's eyes go sort of glassy whenever your name is mentioned." She leaned back against the wall next to Natasha. "We've disliked each other intensely for years but right now we need to be in the same place..." her voice trailed off. "Besides that thing you thought of with the lamp was sweet."

Natasha shook her heard and laughed. "Not half as sweet as you taking out that video camera."

Morgan grinned. "Yeah, that was pretty awesome."

Natasha returned the smile though it faded gradually from her face. Morgan could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Natasha met her gaze. "I'm going to ask him to let you go."

Morgan's mouth dropped open, her eyes widening. "What?"

Natasha's brows furrowed. "You don't have anything to do with this. There's no reason to keep you--"

The redhead was already shaking her head. "No way. I'm not--"

"Morgan!" Natasha cut her off, her voice wavering. She took a deep breath and held back tears. Her voice was low and halting. "You don't...you don't understand. This man...he--he..." She met the other woman's gaze. She lifted her chin and forced her voice to steady. "The last time I saw him he tried to drown me and left me for dead.

Morgan looked as if she were going to be ill.

Natasha registered the reaction and was satisfied though she didn't really feel relieved. She wasn't thrilled about the prospect of being in this alone, but if she could get Morgan out of it she would.

She rose to her feet on slightly unsteady legs and surveyed the room. It was less sparse than the room before and was tastefully decorated. There was no video camera mounted on the wall but the men had been thorough as their employer had told them. There were no decorative elements save the paintings that hung on the walls. There was another armoir of rich dark mahogany but this one was unlocked.

She opened it. There was clothing within. Women's clothing. She glanced at Morgan who still wore her bikini with only the thin cover-up over it. "Feel like changing into something less comfortable?"

Morgan got to her feet and joined Natasha in sorting through the clothing. Morgan wrinkled her pert nose. "Looks like high priced hooker wear."

Natasha agreed. "Might be, but I'm tired of wearing a bathrobe around." She sorted through the clothing finally finding a stretchy white t-shirt that had been cropped to end above the belly button and a pair of skinny jeans that had more spandex in them than denim. She wriggled into the clothing before slipping her converse sneakers back on. Morgan found a tight sweater dress that only came to mid thigh and tugged on a pair of black leggings underneath in imitation of some additional modesty.

Natasha and Morgan looked at each other speculatively before both girls burst out laughing. Morgan coughed and grinned. "Shouldn't you be on a street corner somewhere?"

"Where's your pole?" Natasha shot back, her lips tilting upwards.

Both girls started at they heard the lock clicking and the door was pushed open. A man entered carrying a tray and set it down on the nightstand. He didn't look at them, merely turned and left, the lock clicking back into place when the door closed.

The tray held sandwiches and a pitcher with two glasses. It was only then that Natasha realized she hadn't eaten since the night before. As if to echo her thoughts, Morgan's stomach gave a low audible rumble.

Natasha smiled thinly. "It's probably drugged."

Morgan's lips twisted. "Or it might not be. I'm starving."

Natasha shrugged, eying the food warily. "Luca's probably a little too theatrical to simply poisonous us I think."

Both girls crawled to the bed. Morgan set the tray between them. There was a bowl of sliced fruit and two turkey sandwiches, each sliced into perfect triangles.There were two plastic cups and a pitcher of water. There were no utensils. The men were probably afraid of being blinded by a fork or being skewered by their unruly captives.

Morgan picked up her sandwhich and began picking though it's contents. Natasha grabbed the pitcher and slid off the bed and padded into the bathroom where she promptly dumped the contents down the drain and rinsed the pitcher thoroughly before refilling it and returning to the bed.

Natasha put the pitcher down on the nightstand. "It's not Evian but it's clean." She turned to Morgan and stared. The redhead had taken a substantial bite of the sandwich and was chewing, a thoughtful expression on her face. She swallowed. "It's not bad. The turkey's a little dry." A smile slid over her face. "I think it's okay Tasha."

Natasha gingerly took a bite herself. She sighed and leaned back against the headboard. When she finished, she resolved, she was going to have a chat with Luca Angiolini.