Isabella POV
My wrists ached from the handcuffs. Dried c*m cracked on my skin as I lay on the marble floor, staring at the Chicago skyline glittering like diamonds in the night. Hours had passed. Maybe dawn was coming. Lorenzo hadn’t returned.
This was my chance.
I tested the steel ring bolted to the floor again. It didn’t budge, but the cuffs themselves had a little give. Twisting my body, I worked my right wrist until the metal bit deep enough to draw blood. Pain cleared my head. I kept going, sweat mixing with his c*m on my chest, until one hand slipped free.
“Freedom.”
I grabbed the discarded thong, wiped myself roughly, and pulled on Lorenzo’s blood-stained black shirt that reached mid-thigh. It smelled like him—gunpowder, cologne, and pure male.
Barefoot, I crept through the ma
