Chapter 2
Emma
I would never forget the look of pure horror on Luke’s face. Never. I’d take that memory to the grave, hating how scared he was to run after me as the Giordino men carried me to that van. The expression of rage that my fiancé wore as he sprinted to retrieve me would forever be embedded in my mind.
Ever since I crossed paths with him, this supposed stranger who worked at my father’s resort, he’d been a figure of safety. Luke had entered my life as a member of security, working on the lock to my condo.
All these weeks that Krista and I had been at the Tropican, an underlying worry lingered that my father could come fetch me. That he would tire of me trying to get away for a while and demand me to come home. I’d never really been away . He’d known from the first day that I ran off with my best friend. If I’d truly tried to run away and stay hidden, he would’ve sent forces to hunt me down and bring me home. I figured that staying somewhere he could see that I was simply trying to relax, he wouldn’t be pressured to control me. Staying in sight, so to speak, should’ve had him relaxed that I wasn’t up to anything bad.
Until today, he hadn’t interfered. He called, and we had spoken once or twice, but he didn’t pull rank and force me to come back.
Now, he had, with unnecessary force.
I glowered at the guards who stood hunched over in the cargo space with me. It was too short for them to straighten. Instead, hulking and crouched over, they held on to the grips anchored to the ceiling and swayed with the motion of the van as it sped along.
These soldiers followed my father’s orders. They always had and always would. No woman—not even me, the boss’s daughter, could demand that they change their behavior. They were expected to do as he said, and as such, I refused to stoop and be an idiot, requesting they let me go. To release me so I could return to my real fiancé.
Antonio was supposed to claim me, but I chose to accept Luke. I’d made that choice when he slid that ring on my finger. Just wearing the thin metal band served as evidence of who I intended to love and have for the rest of my days.
The ring! Grateful that I’d landed to slump to my side, I kept my hands behind me and switched the engagement ring from my left hand to my right.
I didn’t have to guess why my father had me captured. He had to have gotten word that I was seen with Luke, just like Jimmy Rossini had. Word was spreading that Luke and I were together to some capacity, but Luke’s proposal was too new. No one could know that I’d accepted him as my fiancé. It just happened. And I had to keep that fact secret for a little longer.
At least until I could figure out how to escape my father.
“Was that necessary?” I asked hotly, aggravated that my father’s soldiers been lying in wait at my condo, prepared to ambush me when I got back from being at Luke’s apartment where he proposed.
“Shut up,” the guard ordered, scowling at me.
I rolled my eyes and looked down. They’d never treated me well, always viewing me as a nuisance, as a problem, because that was how my father viewed me. He regarded me as a burden and a pawn, never a woman to respect or a daughter to cherish. His guards acted accordingly, conditioned and trained to see me as nothing but a thing .
“He couldn’t just tell me to come see him?” I retorted. Using force like this was ridiculous.
“Like you would’ve listened,” the other guard drawled, sneering at me like I was the world’s greatest problem to ever exist.
I might have, but then again, I probably would have continued to avoid him and only maintain conversation via calls.
His show of power in kidnapping me bore more meaning. It demonstrated that he wasn’t dicking around. He wasn’t in the mood to play or ask nicely, or even discuss anything. My father wanted me back home, and he made it happen, depriving me of any say in the matter.
That alone wedged more anxiety into my soul. My chest already felt so tight, worn with the ragged breath I managed and the speedy tempo of my pulse. If he felt the need to haul me back home, he likely wouldn’t give me much hope to leave again.
Fuck.
I couldn’t stay there. I wouldn’t put it past him to keep me locked up, like when I’d tried to run away as a little girl, thinking that being an orphan would be a better life. When I took off and tried to hide, eager to find other people who’d give me love and be my found family.
Since the day I was born, I had been trapped in this mafia life, one I never wanted in the first place. Being born into a situation was a cruel existence to tolerate, and it was only when I met Luke that I dared to dream of something else. Of a bright and optimistic future I’d be excited to embrace. Of a life not dictated by a man who only cared about wealth and power, not love.
As soon as the van stopped, I kept my mouth shut, my head held high, and shoved out of the guard’s hold. I swatted their hands away and glared at them. Standing in front of the mansion I was supposed to call home, I gave them a furious glower that suggested the let me walk on my own. I didn’t need to be dragged in like a prisoner. I didn’t need to be bound up and forced inside.
I knew the way, dammit, and I refused to be submissive to the point he manhandled me and physically forced me to walk
Without waiting for their direction, I headed inside toward my room. Being back within these walls filled me with dread. This dark, oppressive home felt more like a dungeon than ever before, and the further I entered, the more I worried I’d never get out again.
Or worse, that I’d only be let out to go to Antonio’s.
No. Stay strong, dammit. I wouldn’t be his. I belonged to Luke. We were made for each other, and I valiantly strained to keep that promise alive in my heart and mind. As I reached my room, nervous that once I stepped over the threshold that I’d never get out again, I willed myself to stay firm.
Stay strong. There has to be a way out. I will see him again. If I couldn’t get out of here and run back to his strong arms, then he’d have to find out how to slip me out of here.
Some way. Somehow.
The guards filed out of my room as I walked all the way in.
Everything looked the same. It was the same personal wing of the mansion that I’d called my own. My nursing textbooks remained on the shelves. The artwork I’d collected hung on the walls. Even my bed looked unchanged and untouched, with the same sheets and cover that I’d slept on over a month ago, before Krista and I planned to head out and live large.
I turned, pacing back from the wide windows that showed the gray clouds pregnant with rain. On the trip back in, I looked up at the sound of footsteps.
My father strode in, his hands fisted at his sides and deep lined etched onto his face. He was furious. Livid. His lips pushed up with the force of how hard he mashed them together in a line of disapproval, but that was nothing new. He’d always found me lacking.
“You stupid fucking whore.”
He stormed in so quickly that I didn’t have time to waste energy in a meaningless mental reminder to stay strong. Or an internal pep talk not to cower. I didn’t have the chance to deflect his physical greeting, either.
With one swift lift of his arm, he struck me. He backhanded me so hard that I fell back. The force of his hit had me flinging back. Pain shot through me. I tensed closing my eyes and curling into as tight of a ball as I could with the sudden drop down.
“You fucking whore!” he shouted as he kicked.
His shoe slammed into my thigh. At the top of my leg, right before my ass, his foot impacted me with such force that I skidded over the floor.
He didn’t give me a chance to speak. To breathe. I was holding in my breath from his first hit. I wrenched my eyes open, lowering my hand to cover my backside from another kick, but he changed his tactic.
Growling, his chest heaving with the strain like he wanted to kill me with his bare hands, he lowered and grabbed a fistful of my hair.
“Ahh!” I screamed as he lifted me off the ground. Agonizing streaks of fire lanced over my skin. The roots resisted, and tears blurred my vision instantly at the sensation of what seemed like his clutch ripping the hair right off my head.
“You fucking idiot!” he seethed, baring his teeth as he glared at me. “Sleeping around with the hotel staff?” He flung me back, releasing his hold on my hair.
I slumped to the ground, glowering at him through the blur of tears I refused to shed. Not for him. I wouldn’t ever give him the satisfaction. Pressing my hand to my head, I ground my teeth and wished he was dead.
“Imagine my fucking surprise when I hear rumors that you’re sleeping around with the fucking hotel staff. I let you think you could have your freedom, you stupid bitch. That you could party and live it up before your wedding.”
He reared back his foot to kick me again, but I was prepared. He’d set the tone for violence, and I wouldn’t take it lying down, helpless. I pushed my foot out to shove at the back of his other knee, and he nearly stumbled down against the side of the bed.
“You fucking—” He straightened himself, his eyes glittering with pure hatred.
Pointing at me panting on the floor, he snarled, “It’s time for you to wizen up. I’ll be damned if you try to get out of your engagement. I’ll be damned if you try to find a way out of marrying Antonio. You hear me?”
I stared at him, looking forward to defying him. I already had in sleeping with Luke and agreeing to marry him .
“Fuck you.”
He growled, stalking away then coming back again, so furious that he grunted with every hard breath. “No, fuck you , you stupid brat.”
I didn’t lower my guard as he stormed toward the door. He wouldn’t leave it at that. He wouldn’t give up. My punishment, I was sure, had only just begun.
“Chain her,” he ordered to the guards at the door.
Fuck. Fuck this no. No.
I scrambled up off the floor. Anything but the chains. Not again. I had been introduced to the misery of being chained to my bed when I ran away as a young girl.
But the guards were too quick to obey. The pain from where he’d kicked me hurt too much, and I fell in my rushed crawl to evade them.
“No. Dammit. No!”
I wrestled them the best I could, swatting at their hands as they shackled my ankle, then my wrist.
No matter how much I flailed and resisted their efforts, with three of them against me, I was outnumbered and overpowered.
Both of my left limbs were connected to the bedpost, and I shuddered at why locks had ever been constructed on the piece of furniture in the first place. I was told long ago that this bedroom was once my mother’s private wing, and the thought of her also being chained up sickened me.
Dragging in panicked breaths, I fumed and watched them walk out of my room.
I was trapped. Kept captive and wounded.
It’d been a long time since I felt this alone. Misery spliced my heart in half.
How was I supposed to get out? How could I find my way back to Luke? What if he was hurt? Would he be able to know where I was?
Questions bombarded me, and I had answers for none. The more out of control that I felt, I resorted to steadying my breath.
Only the contact of the ruby ring on my finger kept me sane.
I rubbed the smooth face of the gemstone, willing it to give me the strength I’d need to get the hell out of here. Because I would.
I had to, even if it was the last thing I did.