Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Francesca felt great satisfaction at the shock in her kidnapper’s eyes.
They were very nice eyes, she noted, the colour of dark chocolate, but that was by the by.
She had the impression this was not a man easily shocked, which made the satisfaction even better than when she was able to shut Artu up.
“Is Artu involved in the talks?” she asked.
The dark eyes locked on hers flickered with confusion.
“My brother. Artu. Is he involved in the marriage talks with that man my family’s trying to offload me on?” She would let herself think about her parents’ involvement later.
“If he is, it’s not information I’ve been given.”
“I bet he is.” She sat back and folded her arms over her chest. “Can’t you take me back and kidnap him instead?”
His burst of shocked laughter made his handsome face seem suddenly younger. His face was as nice as his eyes. Very macho and square-jawed with a wide, firm mouth she just knew had kissed a lot of women.
“I’ll give you my wages for him,” she offered. “I got paid today and have only spent a little of it.”
The laughter and amusement vanished, and he looked closely at her. “Are you for real?”
“I would say you could pinch me to test it, but that would mean hurting me, which you’ve given your word not to do.”
His stare held hers for a long, long time, as if he were trying to peer through her eyes and scrutinise her brain.
“Miss Marino, has it computed with you that this situation is real? That this isn’t a game?
I’m not driving you to your home. Your family aren’t preparing to shout ‘surprise’ when you get out of the car. ”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry. Am I not reacting like a good little kidnap victim should? Are you sure you don’t want to make the swap? Artu will definitely behave more like the traditional victim for you if that’s what you want.”
He gave the subtlest shake of his head. “I ask you again – has it computed that this situation is real?”
“Oh, it computed the second you threw me into the back of this car,” she assured him.
“It’s a shame it didn’t compute before then, as I could have at least tried to kick you in the balls or hit you with my bag, but that’s done, and while I don’t know anything of poker, I do know other card games and know you shouldn’t show your hand too soon or you give your opponent an advantage. ”
The look on his face at this was so funny that she giggled.
“You can’t hurt me, can you? You can’t pinch me to check if I’m real; you can’t even lay your little finger on me, which means I can be as annoying as I like, and when I put my mind to it, I can be really annoying, and there will be nothing you can do about it.
Honestly, if I were you, I’d make that swap with my brother because I’m going to spend the next week making your life hell. ”
It was with the greatest joy that Francesca watched the reality of the situation compute with her kidnapper.
All her life, her parents had drilled into their children that having Esposito blood put a target on them as much as it protected them.
The target aspect was the whole reason they’d chosen to live a quiet life hundreds of kilometres from Naples.
Francesca had been brought up on the stories of her uncle’s rise to power and the many and varied enemies he’d made along the way.
The Ranieri name was a familiar one. The stories had always sounded so fantastical that she’d lapped them up in the same way she’d lapped up stories of legends and Gods.
In many ways, it felt like she’d waited her whole life for this moment.
Her kidnapper, his dark chocolate eyes still watching her closely, slowly loosened back into his former relaxed posture.
A smile played on his lips. “While I admire your optimism, I’m afraid I will take my chances on being annoyed to death and keep you as my hostage.
Swapping you for the brother you so clearly love will dilute the impact and lessen the incentive for your cousin to comply. ”
She shook her head sadly and sighed. “When you’re wishing you could throttle me down the line, don’t say I didn’t warn you and offer you that choice.”
His smile widened, crinkling the lines around his eyes. “I’ve gone all-in, Miss Marino. What unfolds now is out of my hands.”
She matched the smile. “In that case, Mr Vicario, you should be pleased to know there is something that remains in your hands. I need a bathroom break, so you should tell your driver that we need to find somewhere to stop. I bet you can’t wait to accompany me for that, can you?
Unless you’d prefer I make a nice puddle on your swanky leather seats? ”
How she loved watching the smile fall from his handsome face.
Gino watched Francesca disappear into the single cubicle toilet of the small roadside restaurant his driver had found.
His hand tight on the gun in his pocket, he propped himself against the wall and expelled a long breath.
When he got home, he would be making a sharp call to his head of security to find out why her personality defects hadn’t been detected.
The week he’d anticipated of babysitting a na?ve, vulnerable young woman had been blown out of the water.
She’d practically skipped out of the car, had even offered to hold his hand so he “wouldn’t need to run after her” if she decided to “make a break for it”.
At his, “That isn’t necessary,” she’d lightly shrugged, tossed back her glossy chestnut hair and, the strap of her large bag, which he’d given back to her sans phone, secure over her shoulder, walked with a bounce through the restaurant door.
One of the waiting staff approached him, met his eye and wisely swerved away.
The first thing he noticed when she came back out was the smear of clear gloss she’d painted on her lips. He noticed because her lips were pulled into a wide smile. “Can we stop for a glass of wine?”
“No.”
“But I didn’t have wine with my dinner because I thought I’d be driving home. If I’d known I was going to be kidnapped, I would have made sure to have a glass.”
“We need to go.”
She pouted. “You’re no fun.”
That was something no woman had ever accused him of before, but he wasn’t about to invite a conversation as to why she wasn’t with him for fun. If she wanted to pretend this wasn’t a kidnap-hostage situation, then that was on her.
“Back to the car, Miss Marino.”
Curiosity flickered in her eyes. “What will you do if I start screaming that I’ve been kidnapped?”
He fixed her with a hard stare. “Ever heard of chloroform?”
“Oh yes. I read lots of crime books.”
“Good. Now back to the car, or I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you to it, and then I will chloroform you for some peace and quiet.”
She put her hands to her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. “And they say chivalry is dead.” Spinning on her heels, she strode off, deliberately swaying her hips and loudly saying over her shoulder, “Come on then, Mr Kidnapper. Back to the car.”
He genuinely didn’t know whether to laugh or shove her in the boot.
Following her into the car park, his critical eye noted her trim little figure beneath the ugly, drab black summer dress she wore.
Had the fact Francesca dressed like a nun on day-release played its part in his men’s opinion that she would be easy to control, he wondered.
Had it influenced his own opinion? Seriously, what kind of grown woman wore clumpy black shoes that should have been left behind in infant school, let alone paired them with white ankle socks?
Still, that was one trim little body beneath the ugly clothing.
He supposed it was his good fortune that her mouth made her so disagreeable.
It would take no effort at all to switch off the brain between his legs for the next week.
“You haven’t told me where you’re taking me,” his disagreeable hostage commented once they’d set off again. Gino had debated swapping places with his bodyguard in the front, but decided he valued him too much as an employee to do that to him.
“Milan,” he answered shortly.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Milan. Is it as glamorous as they say?”
“Compared to the town I took you from, yes.”
“Will you give me a tour of it?”
God give him strength. “I’m not taking you there for a holiday.”
“Then what will we do for the week I’m with you?”
“I will be working, and you will be quiet, and I would very much appreciate some quiet now.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
Clenching his jaw, he looked out of the window. If he ignored her, she would give up trying to strike conversation.
“Is it all gangster stuff?” she asked. “Is that where you got all the money that’s made you so powerful? By shooting people? Or did you earn any of it through your own endeavours?”
For some reason, this needled him. “I own nightclubs. Very successful nightclubs.”
“Good for you! I’ve never been to a nightclub. Will you take me to one of yours?”
“No.” If he’d known he couldn’t let her out of his sight for a moment before, it was doubly so now. Not all his staff had the restraint not to gag and lock her in a cupboard.
“But I would love to dance in a nightclub.”
“No.”
“Why not? Think of the fun we could have dancing the night away.”
He closed his eyes. “Do you ever give that mouth of yours a rest?”
“Oh dear, am I annoying you?”
He clamped his lips together.
“The last time I danced was at Siena’s engagement party,” she said. “I don’t remember you being there.”
“I was unavailable.”
“Why?”
“Work.”
“Did you go to the wedding?”
“No.”
“Unavailable or not invited?”
“Unavailable.”