Chapter 52 Lexi
FIFTY-TWO
LEXI
Grant allows me to walk myself out of the cell, and I take careful note of everything we pass.
It’s probably redundant seeing as they’re moving us soon, but I do it anyway, cataloging every door, every hallway, and every crate I pass before we reach a large open space.
There are two chairs in the center, each with a length of rope draped over the back.
Being bound is going to make it hard to defend myself, but not impossible.
“Sit,” he orders, and I do as I’m told, my chest tightening as he methodically wraps the rope around my wrists, securing me to the cool steel.
Somehow, it’s colder in here than the cell. I guess it makes sense. We’re closer to the elements out here, the doors are in my line of sight for the first time since I woke up.
He checks the knot twice, making sure I won’t be able to escape before disappearing down the same hallway he just led me down.
Once he’s out of sight, I tug at the restraints, testing and twisting, trying to identify the knot he’s used.
The amount of time Colten and Cruz have spent teaching me to escape situations like this would surprise most people, including other Mafia princesses, but after the first time I was kidnapped, they never wanted me to be unprepared.
Thank God for overprotective alpha males, I think to myself.
A heavy set of footsteps along with a much lighter pad of bare feet makes me pause, dropping my head submissively.
They go through the same steps he did with me before silence falls over the warehouse.
Now that I’m out of the cell, I realize it’s late in the afternoon, the sun shining through the windows to the west.
Nightfall will give me extra cover if I can get out of the warehouse and therefore more chance of a successful escape.
The other woman’s bare feet pose an issue, but I’ll figure something out. I’m not going to leave her here with them when I have no idea what they intend to do with us.
“What do you want with us?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly.
I might not have many chances without Jay here, and Grant will likely be more loose-lipped while his partner is elsewhere.
He sighs but doesn’t respond immediately. He and I both know he doesn’t owe me an explanation, but I’m hoping he’s going to give me one anyway.
“The Mafia Matchmaker has strict guidelines around who can be matched. You wouldn’t think so considering the service exists to match criminals, but their harsh criteria are making it impossible for some families to find suitable arranged marriages.”
My brows dip in confusion. I knew there were some things that excluded people from being matched, but from what I remember, none of it was unreasonable. No history of beating your partner. No history of human trafficking. No history of child abuse. No history of sexual assault.
“You tried to hack the system?” I ask.
He sighs. “I did, but that asshole beat me to it. By the time I got in, Colten had already rigged your match, and I couldn’t exactly unmatch you without raising questions.”
I choke on my own breath, earning me a chuckle from my captor.
“You didn’t know? Oh lucky me getting to be the one to tell you that the man you let touch you even after I warned you not to wasn’t even really a match. He lied to you. Manipulated you. And then he couldn’t even protect you.”
The cruel words hit me exactly where he intends. I try to blink away the tears that pool in the corners of my eyes, my chest aching in a way that makes every breath excruciating.
How could he do this to me?
I breathe through the torrent of emotions that slam into me. Even if what he’s saying is true, I still need to get out of here.
Colten may not be coming to save me, but I’ll save myself if I need to.
“So this is your way of besting the matchmaker? Kidnapping women?” I finally bring my gaze up to meet that of the woman sitting beside me.
Her blonde hair is cut in a bob around her shoulders, but it’s obvious it hasn’t been washed recently. Green eyes stare back at me, and I recognize the resolve beneath the surface, because it’s the same as what’s pulsing in my chest.
She’s vaguely familiar, although I can’t place where we’ve met. I assume she’s part of a Mafia family, or else their mission would be redundant, but she must be from the East Coast because if we’ve ever been in the same room, it was probably only one time.
“Laken here caught Jay’s eye a few years ago. He likes them wild, and our girl here is a constant headache for her family. A party girl, a constant fuck-up, and so they signed her up for the matchmaker.”
She flinches at the choice of words, but she holds my gaze, taking the strength our connection is providing. Just because she’s rebelled against her family, doesn’t mean she’s not a good person. It’s natural to fight against the gilded cage you’re trapped in, and most Mafia women go through it.
Testing boundaries is normal when all you’ve known is walls.
“And I set my sights on you almost two years ago. Since the first time I saw you on Fan Faves. It took me longer than I had hoped to track down your identity, but I was pleasantly surprised to find you were a De Luca. I was okay with taking a wife from outside a crime family, but my father was thrilled when I told him you were part of such a prestigious family.”
Laken’s eyes widen slightly at the mention of the app, but I’m not ashamed of doing something I enjoy.
“What family are you a part of?” I ask carefully. It might be crossing a line, but now I’m curious, and I’m desperately trying to ignore the fact that the man I love has lied to me throughout our entire relationship, however short it might be.
His features harden because I still haven’t pieced together who he is. But how would I? It’s not like I spend much time on the business side of the family, and if the first time he saw me was on Fan Faves, we’ve never met. “Grant Spellings.”
I nod slowly, searching my mind for anything I know about him or his family.
The Spellings are from Charlotte…I think…and that we have very little to do with them. They’re a smaller family, but I’ve heard rumblings that they’re involved in trafficking. It’s mostly rumors, but there must be some validity to it if it was enough to have them barred from using the matchmaker.
Laken doesn’t seem surprised by the name, so either they’ve had some version of this conversation already, or she’s met them before.
“And what are you planning to do now you have us?” I’m pushing my luck, but the only thing keeping me from spiraling is trying to piece together this web.
“We have a few more women to collect, and then we’ll work on dismantling the matchmaker. There’s no reason the families can’t make deals like in the old days. A hand in marriage for a business partnership. It’s always made sense. Why fix something that’s not broken?”
“Because women were being sold off like cattle?” I challenge.
I don’t see the backhand until it’s too late, and my mind swims as agony bursts across my face.
Holy shit, he really didn’t pull that hit.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he barks.
“The Mafia Matchmaker ensures everyone gets something out of a match. The participants and their families, instead of women being sold to men who will treat them like a baby factory,” I spit. I shouldn’t provoke him, but I can’t help it.
Arranged marriage in the Mafia always had women losing, and I’m so lucky Cruz never wanted that life for me before the service started, and even then he gave me a choice.
My family always gave me a choice, but not every Mafia princess is so lucky.
I wouldn’t have been that lucky if Dad were still alive. He would have sold me to the highest bidder without a single thought for whether it was in my best interest.
I don’t take for granted that Cruz killed him before it could come to that.
“You know, I’ve approached your brother for your hand several times, and you know what he said each time?” Grant seethes.
I shake my head. I can guess, but I’ve already pushed too hard.
“He said that you were free to make your own choices. And then what did you do? You went ahead and signed up for the matchmaker anyway.”
“And that was my choice,” I whisper.
Trying to reason with a madman is pointless, and when I meet Laken’s gaze again and notice the bruising across her cheek, I realize she’s been in this same position.
Jay calls from somewhere down the hallway we just walked down, and Grant takes the time to double-check our restraints before leveling us with a hard stare.
“No chatting. If I hear either of your voices, you’ll both be drugged until we get you to Dallas.”
He leaves before I can ask what the hell we’d be doing in Dallas, but I don’t need to ask because he’s already told us.
That’s where the next girl is.