Scenes from an Italian Restaurant
You neared the corner of his kitchen into his living space, bringing your glass of wine with you. You were cooking dinner while Harry wrapped up a work call.
Doing exactly what? You were unsure.
At first, you didn't mind that you were clueless about Harry's occupation. What did it matter? He'd likely dump you in a month, and your memory of him would be the best sex of your life. You had no issue with that.
Three months later, as you stood in his kitchen making your family's penne ala vodka, you were desperate for details. So rather than asking him like a normal person, you were snooping.
Being realistic, you knew it was likely Harry was into some shady shit. He was well-off, yet never spoke about his family, and didn't seem to work much. You came from an Italian family; you knew there were "alternative business opportunities" where you lived. Everyone pretended like there wasn't a mob, but being realistic, where the hell did everyone make their money?
"I know. She's so beautiful, it's unbelievable," he said, nodding. "Mhm, picked her up today."
You blushed. Harry grabbed you from work early this afternoon. You didn't expect him to be talking about you with a coworker.
"Yeah. It'll be sad to let her go," he continued, "but I think I've done a good job keeping her hidden."
You quirked your eyebrow. Wait, what was he talking about?
"With so many connections, I'm gonna have to watch my fuckin' back," he mumbled then. "But the plan is to drop her off Wednesday. And then she'll be gone and not my problem anymore. If they want her, they'll have to find her. My only job at this point is to keep everyone unaware until then."
You froze. Was he talking about his plan to traffick you?
Your head spun and you felt a need to sit down. But you couldn't let on what you'd just heard, no--he'd trap you here. You had no chance of overcoming him physically, you at least knew that from the bedroom. Jesus Christ, the man had the stamina of a marathoner.
You needed to act like everything was fine. And then, in the dead of night, you'd sneak out and run away. Run far from here. Call a cousin and catch a flight. You couldn't tell your family now; they'd try to rescue you, and he could hurt you before they got here.
"Yeah, don't worry. I'll have my fun with her first," he smiled after listening for a while. "She's good. Sexy, mhm."
Your stomach churned, moving back into the kitchen at the stove as you realized the phone call was ending. Your sweet Harry, your dream guy with a mysterious flair. Was he really plotting against you all this time?
"Okay, I gotta go. Bye." He walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and kissing your cheek. "Baby," he whispered. "Smells so good."
"Thanks," you mumbled.
He pushed hair behind your ear. "All good?"
You nodded. "Yeah, why?"
He shook his head. "You're tense."
You panicked. "Well, I heard you calling someone beautiful," you said, surprised as the words left your lips. Shit--your Italian genes were always getting you into trouble somehow. Why would you let him know you were snooping?
He nipped your ear. "Talking about you, silly," he murmured automatically, spreading his hands all over your body.
Your heart fell into your stomach.
"Dinner almost done?" he asked.
You nodded, turning off the stove. "Why don't you sit, baby? I'll serve you."
"Don't need to tell me twice," he said then, leaving the kitchen without forgetting to give your ass a smack.
If only you knew where he kept some fucking poison.
No--better to just leave things as they are. Go to bed tonight and disappear while he's sleeping. Then, as you jet off to Illinois or Milwaukee or someplace no one would ever voluntarily journey, you can pretend things ended.
Just as you knew they would all along.
That night in bed, Harry drummed his fingers on your thigh. "Y/N," he said softly.
Jesus, would he just fall asleep already? You thankfully avoided sex by telling him you were tired, but maybe you should've gone along with it because now he seemed to be playing chicken.
"Yes?" you replied.
"We've been doing this awhile now," he said.
You scratched your wrist awkwardly under the covers.
"What do you make of it?" he asked when you didn't reply.
"What do I make of us?" you asked back.
"Yeah," he said, nodding.
You bit your lip. If he'd asked you this before today, you would've been elated. Now, you were stuck on what to say.
"I think… I think we can just see where it goes," you said, trying to be nonchalant. "I mean, I care about you, Harry." You nodded, trying to act like you hadn't been scared for your life all evening.
He squeezed your knee, again sending chills up your spine. "I care about you, too," he said quietly, kissing your forehead. "You know that?"
Fuck--why did you mention overhearing him earlier?!
"Yeah," you replied.
He kissed your lips. "Good," he said, finally adjusting and shutting his eyes.
You ran your hand over his chest for good measure.
"'m not calling anyone beautiful but you, baby," he mumbled. "Don't you worry."
Your heart stilled. You needed to wait until he was dead asleep, and bolt.
An hour later, you decided you were either going to go for it or end up six feet under.
So you slipped out of bed, grabbed your phone, and ran. You ran out of his apartment, down flights of stairs, and out of the building. Only when you reached the parking lot did you hear him running behind you.
"Y/N," he called.
Fuck. He was gaining on you.
"Where the fuck are you going?" he asked.
Why did you park so goddamn far away? So much for getting your steps in.
You spun around and held your phone to your chest. "Let me go or I…" you cried, panting. "I… I'll call my family, and they'll fucking kill you." You weren't sure if now was the time for threats, but your strategy evidently wasn't all that great to begin with.
He sighed. "Y/N--"
You kicked him in the shin weakly and then turned around to run and he cringed before grabbing your shoulder and pulling you to him.
"Don't," you bawled as he locked his arms around your waist. "Harry, please. Please don't hurt me," you cried. "If you ever cared about me, just let me go," you sobbed, writhing in his grasp.
He brought you incredibly close, breathing slow and deep against your body. "You really can't break out of this?" he asked you after a second.
"Let me go," you insisted.
"No, try," he said calmly.
You squirmed, wailing.
"Hush, I'm not gonna hurt you," he said quietly. "Bring your hips back. Bend forward."
"Fucking pervert," you cried. "Fuck, let me go!"
"Try," he repeated, "Bend forward and twist around. Use your elbow to break out of my hold."
You finally followed his instructions and he let go of you quite easily.
"Now, are you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" he asked you.
"I heard you on the phone," you said.
"Yeah, I gathered that," he replied. "Pissed you off. Gave me some shit about being tired, and now you're begging me not to hurt you in the parking lot of my building."
"You were saying you're gonna drop me off on Wednesday," you cried. "Drop me off and then I'm not your fuckin' problem anymore. Like I'm a pig for slaughter, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you bawled. "This is what you do, you fucking sicko? You find unsuspecting women to sell to rapists and murderers?"
"I wasn't talking about you!" he exclaimed.
"Oh yeah? I'm not an idiot, Harry," you said, wiping your tears. "Well, maybe I am because I didn't suspect anything until now. But I should've known better for someone like you to be interested in me."
He frowned. "Y/N, don't say that."
"Please just let me leave," you whispered. "Let me go, and I'll tell my family to take care of you. You won't get hurt." That was a lie. You'd tell them to kill him. You couldn't have him kidnapping anyone else.
He screwed his eyes shut frustratedly. "I wasn't talking about you, okay? I was talking about… I was talking about a car for your uncle."
You blinked.
He shrugged. "I stole a Maserati for him. I have to keep it hidden for a while before he drives it or it'll cause suspicion," he said.
You narrowed your eyes. "You're the car guy?" you asked, folding your arms.
He chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He cleared his throat. "Took a while for me to prove myself, for them to allow me to approach you."
"What do you mean?"
He sighed. "You know… I was into you. I'd seen you around… I knew your family was connected, and they wouldn't let you be with someone who didn't have their shit together."
"For the record, I can be with whoever I want," you disagreed.
He raised an eyebrow at you. "You think it's a coincidence a gorgeous, smart, sweet girl who's basically a Michelin star chef has stayed single this long?" he asked.
You chewed on your lip. It sounded like you needed to grill your dad next Sunday dinner.
"Anyway," Harry continued, "I worked at the car shop your dad goes to. I kept bugging him about an opening at the business… A year later, I'm stealing cars for a living."
You reddened. You were beginning to realize you had no idea how far this went.
"Once I did the first couple jobs, I asked him if I could take you out sometime. I knew it was only a matter of time til I ran into you again, and I didn't wanna waste my chance," he said.
"And he said yes?" you asked.
"He said to ask you and see what you said," he answered as though repeating from memory. "Which, according to your cousins, is a high compliment."
You paused, taking all this information in. It took a bit to bring yourself back to the present moment, standing in the dark parking lot across from the man of your dreams.
"I'm sorry," you spoke finally.
He smiled, shaking his head. "It's fine. We've just gotta teach you some self-defense," he said. He held his hand out to you and you obliged. He walked you back to his building.
"Do you know how to shoot a gun?" he asked conversationally.
"Are you fucking kidding?"
