Chapter 9
Lila
"Let me go!"
I thrash as hard as I can, fighting against the hands holding me down to the chair while another person works to secure me with rope, the rough fabric rubbing against the skin of my wrists.
Everything is so much worse because I'm wearing this stupid nightgown. It barely covers me, and I'd be worried about flashing someone if the situation were different.
"You can't keep me here! Let me go!" My head throbs, the lights are too bright, and I hate Cilento all the more for having his man knock me out. "Get off! I'm not staying here with that creep!"
I can't see Cilento right now, but I have to assume he's close. He wouldn't leave his new prize to his guards.
Because something tells me these animals don't care about consent.
My wrists are secured, and I can't move as my ankles are tied to the legs of the chair, forcing me to push my knees together to stay covered.
I still can't believe this is happening, and then I hear the sharp clicks of shoes against the wood floors.
When I'm fully bound, Cilento circles around me from behind, coming to stand just a foot or so away. Even though I can't, I try to kick at him.
Marcus, where are you? Get me out of here.
"You really should be more grateful for my hospitality. You'll be staying here for a long while, Lila. So why not enjoy it?"
"Enjoy it?" I glare at him, reeling backward. "Have you lost your mind?! You kidnapped me, you asshole!"
Quicker than I can prepare for, Cilento steps forward and slaps me across the cheek. My head knocks to the side as my cheek burns, tears threatening to break free.
I won't let them. I won't give this monster the satisfaction.
"You will learn your place, puttana." Cilento practically growls the word at me, and even though that last bit was Italian, I can guess what he meant.
Spitting on the floor by his feet, my saliva tinted pink from the split lip I'm now sporting, I glare back at him.
"I've never been particularly good at that."
Cilento just eyes me, and in the brief few moments I have, I take in more of my surroundings.
I noticed how nice the place was when we got here. It's a veritable mansion—hardwood floors here but marble in others, with ornate fixtures that gleam a natural gold color, paneling and wallpaper, and drapes of yards and yards of fabric.
It's like something out of The Godfather.
From what I can tell, I'm in a bedroom, likely not the master suite because it's a bit smaller, more like my room back home, and there's a large bed against the wall to my left.
I'm facing the door, but I'm tied to this chair, and I can't move or twist enough to see if there's a bathroom or anything else.
"Well, perhaps a night in solitude will improve that attitude." Cilento turns on his heel, heading for the door with guards following behind him.
He's going to leave me here?! Tied to a chair?!
I start thrashing again, trying to loosen the binds. "You can't leave me like this! Let me go!"
But Cilento doesn't break his stride. He exits the room as the guards close things up behind them. They even turn off the light, and I'm plunged into darkness and silence.
That's it. He just left. I'm stuck in this room—a bedroom in Cilento's mansion—with nowhere to go and no one to help me.
He swears that I'm going to be his good little wife, that my father paid a heavy price for his silence, and he intends to enjoy every second of it.
Antero. He told me his first name. Antero Cilento, and he expects me to live with him from here on out.
I won't do that. I won't be his wife or his captive. Even if Marcus doesn't come, I'll find some way to get out of here or call the cops.
And still, behind everything else, is the fact that my father agreed to this. He gave me to this man, this mafioso.
Whatever happens, Reginald Kendrix is no longer my father. As soon as I get out of here, I'm moving out of his fucking house and never looking back.
I just have to hope I survive long enough to get free.
Sometime later, I'm woken up after finally falling asleep in the chair, uncomfortable as hell and getting increasingly sore by the minute.
Booms and thuds ring out from outside my room, and I can see light spilling across the floor from the bottom crack. Something is going on out there, and I'm still stuck to this damned chair.
"Come on!" I yank on the binds again, squeezing my hands back to see if I can pull them through, but it hurts too much to keep going. "Fuck!"
I know I need to get out of the ropes. If this is some turf war or something going on between rival families, I want no part of it. But how do I break free?
Years of watching movies flash before me, and I get the bright idea to try to knock my chair over, hopefully breaking the arms or legs.
There's no part of this that won't suck. I'm going to land hard. I brace myself for the pain as I rock the chair side to side until it careens over, smashing into the wood.
Lightning rips through my shoulder from the impact, and I groan low, not wanting to make any extra sound. That was loud enough.
Pulling against the binds again, I notice that one of the arms is wobbling. I yank hard at that one until it comes flying off the chair, nearly hitting me in the face.
Thankfully, I ducked back in time, and now I have a hand to work with. It takes a bit, but I'm able to untie my other hand and then the one still attached to the chair.
My legs are next, and I stand up just as a loud boom rings outside the door.
What the hell is going on out there?
I could take advantage of the situation, though. So I decide to sneak out of my room and into the hall. The door is locked, of course, but it's nothing that a few bobby pins can't solve.
I've gotten out of my room more times than I can count, and that tiny rebellious spark is saving my butt right now.
Outside in the hall, chaos reigns. Loud shouting and men rushing through the corridor from random places in the house. They all appear to be going to the front, so I stick to the shadows, hopping from corner to corner as I follow them.
The commotion is enough that they don't notice me, at least for now.
When I reach the front foyer, just behind the men rushing in that direction, I finally see what all the fuss is about.
"Marcus?"
My voice is quiet, but he hears me, looking up from holding one of Cilento's guards in basically a headlock.
My heart beating furiously, I can't look away from him. He did come. Marcus really did come after me. Tears begin to blur my vision, and then someone yanks my arm from behind.
"Ah!" I pull against the hold. "Let go!"
A shot rings out from in front of me, and I see Marcus pulling his hand back, gun in his grip. The guy he was holding is on the floor, clutching his leg.
"Let her go unless you want a matching hole with your buddy."
"You? You're what's causing all this!" Cilento's voice blares from behind me, and he stalks past me until I'm staring at his back as he glares at Marcus. "You're Kendrix's new fucking lap dog!"
"Hardly. I was hired to protect the girl." Marcus levels the gun at Cilento. "And I plan to uphold that. I'm not looking to disrupt your entire organization, but I have no problem doing so if you don't release her."
In his other hand, Marcus holds up his cellphone. I can just make out that the location tracker is on in some app, and it looks like he could send that information wherever he wants.
"Give her to me, and I won't send this address to the cops."
Clever. But my arm burns from where the thug is holding me, and I pull again, trying to get to Marcus quicker.
"Be smart here, Cilento. Is she worth a visit from the Feds? I've got friends in high places, after all. Or do you send her home with me, and you can deal with your Kendrix issues however you see fit?"
The moment is so tense I could pluck it in the air like a harp string. But as quickly as the estate descended into chaos, it comes to an abrupt halt as Cilento raises his hand.
"Let her go. We'll deal with Kendrix ourselves. I won't have the authorities dirtying up my home."
The guy holding me relaxes, his grip going slack, and I take my arm back, hurrying across the massive tile floor into Marcus's arms.
I'm shaking, the adrenaline taking over, and I know when we're out of here, I'm going to break down. But that can wait. We need to get to safety first.
"If you ever come after me or her again, if you touch what's mine ever again, it'll be the last thing you ever do."
Marcus keeps the gun raised as we back up toward the door. He trusts me to get it open and guide him through it as he maintains eye contact with Cilento.
But then the door closes. We're outside. I'm free.
"We need to get to the car now, princess." I look up at Marcus, still in shock, and I crash my lips against his, needing to feel him against me. "I missed you, too. But let's get out of here."
"You're not taking me back to my father," I reply sharply, leaving no room for argument.
"No, princess. You're coming home—with me."