Chapter Three #2
Off the books, he’s bad news. A loose cannon, ruthless, violent, and merciless
I got a taste of that, my tongue brushes over the cut on my lip. Holy hell, what did I get myself into?
Me:
I almost had an unsettling premonition this morning, but being kidnapped is not something I considered possible
Rami:
Fuck! Art, you are a crafty guy, but my advice is to run
Me:
Tried and failed
Rami:
He left you with a phone, he fucked up the ABCs of kidnapping
Me:
He compensated with brutal force
Rami:
Then pray for a miracle
Me:
To which god?
Rami:
How about me, the almighty ruler?
I snort.
Me:
You talking about your handler in that lame video game you created?
I know things about his private life as well. His day job is quite cool, actually.
Rami:
Lame? Insulting prick!
Rami:
So rude!
Rami:
I’ll still send someone if you apologize. Could probably get you out of there by tomorrow
I do want to get the fuck out of here, but with a clearer mind, I’m realizing that I’d just get back into my old cage.
And it stinks there. Instead, if I stay put, I can turn this into a chance at real freedom—or simply use it as a distraction from my impending nuptials.
Is it crazy to embrace the environment rather than fight it?
Luca hurt me, but he could have done much more damage.
He threatened to do it, but didn’t. If I comply—mostly—I won’t give him a reason to harm me, and I can use him and the Leones to get rid of my family once and for all.
Hypothetically, they could kill each other—what a nice image.
It’s fucking risky but’s that’s where I thrive.
Me:
Go back to the claw-filing, bear slave
Rami:
It’s actually claws-on-my-ass time
That naughty side of him, I should have tasted it at least once. Before the grizzly beau arrived. I would have to run for my life now. Darn it!
I hide my cell again and then pull on the cuff as I try to find a more comfortable position on the sofa.
My stretched arm is turning tingly. I nervously scratch my neck while re-thinking everything.
Should I just let Rami help me? Am I making a mistake here?
I could get seriously hurt or worse—an occurrence I’m not a stranger to, though.
Still, I’m being insane for no other reason than to spite my family—and kill them.
My disappearance would surely make the old man blow a gasket.
But I already know how this will end. Better to just take Rami’s offer and avoid future disappointments.
The sound of Luca’s phone ringing quiets my thoughts.
I prick up my ears as he starts talking in Italian.
His voice is muffled by the closed door, but I can still make out some words.
I do understand the language. I lied before just to keep an extra weapon up my sleeve.
My vocabulary is not the best, but I get the gist. He’s talking to Sebastiano Leone.
Luca is reassuring him I’m in one piece—my cheek, throat, and the rest of my body grandly disagree.
My bad for trying to escape from a violent wacko who kidnapped me.
Sarcasm doesn’t help my sore and bruised body, but it is part of my venting process.
It sounds like the big boss doesn’t want me dead.
Luca suddenly switches to English. “I’ll make Arturo Enzino talk. I don’t care! He is a spoiled brat who’s only good at sucking cock and spending his father’s blood money, but he knows more than he lets on.”
The arrogant prick! Piece of total shit!
Ahhhh, I can’t even think of a proper curse for the…
testa di cazzo! After he gets killed, I’m going to find his tombstone and spit on it.
Granted I have any saliva left; I’m Sahara-thirsty right now.
My gaze falls to the floor and the vodka bottle he was drinking out of before.
I shift on the hardest sofa ever made until my fingers wrap around the bottle neck.
Two long, burning sips later, I’m replaying his insulting words inside my head.
I’m a second away from screaming at him that I’m indeed the dick blower, and my name, followed by suggestive drawings, can be found on bathroom stalls in several clubs around the city.
That’s how memorable I am. But explaining that would actually be counterproductive. Shit, this vodka is strong.
I can’t fight him. He’ll turn me into a piece of chewing gum. I need to use my head here. A sudden thought makes me smirk with smugness. Luca Nero thinks he’s got me all figured out. I won’t disappoint him, then…starting tomorrow. This is going to be fun.
I focus on his phone call again. He is now promising answers about the wedding, and Coretti and Enzino’s plans.
So that’s what Don Sebastiano wants from me.
Keeping me alive must be his way to manipulate Coretti somehow.
When I marry Aurora, my father will become very powerful, probably too powerful for them to beat.
“I’ll make Enzino text Mario. He could lure him here, where I’ll kill him.”
That sounds like a horrible plan. Mario knows where I am, always. He’ll come here as soon as he finds out where, and who I’m with. And that’s another reason why I don’t want to leave here.
“Any news on the dead boy from the park? Is Doppi getting suspicious?” Luca suddenly asks.
Did I hear right? A dead body in a park? A boy. And Coretti’s man is somehow related to it. Why? Luca’s voice fades away. I can’t hear anything anymore. Fuck! Could this help me somehow? I grab my phone once more.
Me:
Ass slave, can you find out if a dead body was found in a park in the city? A boy, the name Doppi could be related
Rami:
I could if you type the mystical word…
Fuck. He’s so damn annoying.
Me:
I’m trying to un-kidnap myself!
Rami:
You don’t seem desperate to escape, might have something to do with your kidnapper? He’s scary but hot
True. But Luca hates me, and his feelings are utterly reciprocated.
Me:
Come on!
Rami:
Mystical, magical word…
Me:
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Rami:
Have a nice, short life
Me:
Sorry *poop emoji*
Rami:
Translation… Reluctant apologies from a shitty person. You are lucky I’m in a good mood
Rami:
Should I look at this Doppi fellow as in the killer?
Me:
Or not
Rami:
Okay, I need some time, though. And you owe me now
I fucking do.
I hurriedly stuff the phone inside my panties—making sure the silence mode is on—just as the bedroom door opens.
Luca comes out exuding confidence and pissed-off vibes. He goes to get a slim cigar from his jacket and lights it up. Those huge arms of his easily slide the window open—the one I tried to escape from—then his body turns my way.
If looks could kill, I’d be a bloody, pulpy mess splattered all over this Lego sofa.
Leones and Enzinos have been at each other’s throats for decades while pretending to get along.
But this? This is personal for wacko here.
I can see it in the hard line of his mouth and the tension in his shoulders.
What did Mario do to him? It could be a number of his favorite pastimes: torturing, killing, blackmailing, stealing.
I’m royally fucked.
Luca puts the cigar between his lips and takes a long, slow drag while making his way toward me.
He’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
With his damp hair falling around his face, he looks like my fucking type: big and rough.
Still, he’s a sadistic brute with a blood thirst for Enzinos—and really thick eyebrows.
It’s going to be so fucking satisfying to have him beg for it.
Turning straight guys is my favorite pastime.
I spread my legs slowly and lift the vodka bottle to take another sip. “I’m hungry.”
“Being kidnapped make you feel peckish?” He gives me a cold stare.
“I always feel sneaky.” I shrug.
“Sneaky?”
“Got the munchies.” I try again. “Even death row inmates are given a last meal of their choice.”
“Death.” He seems to savor that word for a moment. Damn, he got it bad. “Tell me what I want to know, and you can get an apple.” He sits on the coffee table once more. His knee is an inch from mine, and the acrid smell of cigar is too close for my liking.
“Are you going to starve me if I don’t?” I raise an incredulous eyebrow. I need much more than a sole apple. I need hot dogs and donuts and French fries with melted cheese and chili.
“If I have to.”
I don’t like any inch of that sentence. He’s already found my Achilles’ heel. I call myself a foodie in the sense that my body needs more fuel than normal. I don’t mind it one bit since I love to eat.
“If you don’t comply, the new bruises on your body won’t be from one of your fucks,” he hisses.
I chuckle bitterly. Who said they are? Well, a few of them, maybe. “Did you stalk me or something?”
“Monitored your movements to snatch you easily,” he deadpans.
I’ve imagined having a stalker numerous times, but more as part of a dark, sexy fantasy.
This sucks big time. He must know my routine…
and he’s probably the one that fucked with my phone.
I got the burner one because mine got suspiciously hot, overheated in my hand, and the battery didn’t last long.
A clear sign of cloning. I thought Coretti did it, to keep an eye on me. But boy was I mistaken.
I was too careless. I yank on the cuff to flare the ache around my wrist in response to my self-recrimination.
A cloud of smoke travels my way. “If you don’t like to be tied, I can just make sure you can’t walk anymore.”
I sniff. He thinks threatening me with violence would make me talk? Too late, asshole, I’m already a total wreck.
“You don’t have to overdo the cold-hearted asshole persona,” I clip. “You work for Sebastiano Leone. I know you are the worst. You can’t stand me, and it’s quite reciprocated, I can assure you.”
“Not a persona, Enzino,” he articulates every syllable of my surname between gritted teeth.
“Art, my name is Art. Use it!” I can’t help snapping. It bothers me to no end to hear him calling me by my family name. I hate it.