Read Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel for Free Online Page B

doing something wrong by trying to break out of this prison. I’m scared, and I don’t want to piss him off, but at the same time, I’m curious about him. About who he actually is.
    I’ve gotta get a grip.
    “Yeah, well, I never got your number,” I answer back, filled with snark.
    “My apologies,” he says dryly, and he heads into the kitchen area, toting a large brown paper bag that looks to be packed with boxes. He returns a moment later, the towering brute plucking the TV from my grasp and putting it back where it came from. “You know, smashing out the window would not help you. It is barred, and the streets are many floors below. Nobody could hear your cries,” he explains to me with the air of a patient, wiser man, even if he has the look of someone dangerous in that tight-fitting sweater and jeans.
    “At least I’d be able to enjoy some fresh air,” I say, my arms folded beneath my chest, but it’s all bravado. I feel like a quivering bird held in his palm, just waiting for him to squeeze a little too hard. I’m only alive because of him, or so he says, but this isn’t my life or the life I ever wanted.
    He walks past me over by the wall and taps a thermostat there.
    “You can control AC and heat here, and don’t worry about the light bill,” he says with a hint of humor to his voice before he heads back into the kitchen.
    “Ahh, funny,” I say, some of my normally sarcastic self seeping out. I like it when he banters with me.
    I have to walk around the sofa to see him there, taking out plates and serving up some food from the packages he brought. Some take-out, no doubt.
    My stomach growls with desire. Since whatever drugs I had made me reject everything in my system, I’ve been starving and too afraid to eat. I sniff the air, catching the various scents of foreign cuisine, and my palm goes to my tummy to quiet it down. Last thing I need is for this guy to know how desperate I am for a bite.
    “I couldn’t dream of putting you out with an exorbitant bill, though,” I say, trying to keep things light. Maybe that’s what is needed.
    “So considerate.” I notice he’s serving up egg rolls, and that familiar scent comes back to me: Chinese food. “I did not catch any dietary concerns,” he says with that accent of his, “but I figured everyone likes Chinese.”
    He comes out of the kitchen, laying the two paper plates full of food onto the table before retreating back in to pour us both up some water.
    I stare after him in disbelief.
    “A meal together. How cute,” I grin, but before he’s even returned from the kitchen, I’ve scalded my tongue on the egg roll, and I’m grabbing for the glass of water like a toddler.
    So much for playing it cool.
    “It is still very fresh,” he says, a caution that comes too late. “They know me there, make it just for me. But this time I had them prepare a little extra,” he gestures to one side of my plate. “You’re a lovely young woman, so I thought perhaps you are a vegetarian or some such, everything on this side is free of meat,” he explains before seating himself down like he was in a mess hall and digging his fork into a piece of meat.
    He’s no vegetarian, that’s for sure.
    I gulp back the water, but I can already tell I won’t be able to taste anything else on my plate with a burned tongue, and I sigh.
    “So you’re vying for, like, the most considerate kidnapper award?”
    “When one does something, you must always give it your best,” he says in that odd way of his, drawing out the words with that eastern flavor, and a healthy dose of dry, dark humor. Though the close proximity gives me time to study him, to see the scar on his face, right up along the highest part of his cheekbone, his jawline lightly stubbled with dark hair.
    He catches me staring, and I quickly avert my eyes. I’ve never been the kind of girl who’s been shy around men, but there’s something about him that makes me feel like a girl again. If I