Six years of walking on eggshells. It was a mistake of stumbling upon somebody you should have stayed a continent away from; perhaps you should've listened to your parents when they had said—Stranger danger. The man you had encountered was the very epitome of it. It had been six years. Six years of receiving a big bouqet of flowers on your bed every week. Six years of feeling like there were multiple eyes on you, digging into your ribcage—and a threat to take apart your soul as if you owed it to a certain someone. Six years, nine months and twelve days of being haunted by Marcelo Luciano De Santis. You would have given him a chance if he was a normal man. Normal, he was far from, considering the history of murder sprees and heists he had pulled. All succefull with little to no traces of him—but you knew.

You knew with the way he had kidnapped you swiftly, no hesitation in his movements.

Marcelo knew no end to desiring you. He had woven his existence into your veins like a scent threading through the air. The fragnance of everything sinister. One whiff that always seemed to be around, yet it was right next to you today. Your head throbbed with pain as you stirred, your face against something soft like a pillow; yet firm. You unconsciously found yourself leaning against the big hand trailing against the base of your neck, to the arch of your closed eyelids fluttering at the pain. It would have been comforting, if not coming from a man who was currently grunting to the driver.

"Drive properly. Unless you want me to cut your damn wrists off."