Chapter 5
Five
I’m embarrassed.
Humiliated.
I can’t believe the monster of a man spanked me in front of all his men. No, not spanked, belted. As if I was some errant child in need of discipline. The one thing I am grateful for is that he did not follow through on the threat of baring my ass. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if he did.
Currently, I am contemplating murdering the man next to me, whose name I still don’t know. The only name I’ve heard him called by is Don . But it doesn’t make sense. There is only one leader of the Italian mafia, and this isn’t him.
“Rest,” he instructs me as he lifts the armrest between us. “Scoot over and put your head on my shoulder.” The muscles in my body stiffen at his demand. His sudden change from domineering master to whatever this current mood is, gives me whiplash.
“I’m not tired,” I tell him.
“I didn’t ask if you were,” he says, one arm snaking behind my back and pulling me toward him. “I told you to rest and that will be easier by putting your head on my shoulder. Now do it. I’m not going to ask again.”
Swallowing back the lump in my throat and the bitter words on my tongue, I let out a small huff and lay my head on his shoulder. It’s hard to relax when your kidnapper tells you to snuggle him.
Irritation burns inside of me when my eyes begin to droop, slowly becoming too heavy for me to keep open. I hate that he is right, and I need rest. I’ve done more in the last few hours than I have in several weeks and it is wearing on me. It has also been several days since I’ve truly slept because each time I closed my eyes, I was afraid I wouldn’t open them again.
Something wells deep inside of me, threatening to overflow. An unfamiliar sense of safety that I have gone so long without. And despite my best efforts, I find myself drifting off into the darkness of sleep with the hope that it will all be a bad dream when I wake.
If only lady luck favored me like she seems to favor the rest of the world.
He’s angry again.
Not that I’m surprised. There is rarely a time in the day he isn’t upset at someone or something. Somedays are better than most. His good days mean the cleaning staff won’t have to scrub blood from the carpet in his office.
It’s been getting worse, though, his tempers. The house is drenched in constant fear that one misstep will mean an early casket for them and their family. Most of my time is spent hiding in my room, away from his darkening gaze and thunderous words .
Ever since my mother died, he’s become unhinged—desperate. I’m afraid of what might come next.
“I’ve secured the money,” he bites out over the phone. I can hear him pacing in his office through the wooden door, his heavy footsteps barely muffled even through the thick wood. “Don’t worry about that. She won’t know until it’s too late.”
Who won’t know what?
The chill that creeps down my spine tells me something is wrong. It sends goosebumps billowing over my skin, the hairs on my neck standing on end.
“ Piccola Spia .” A pained gasp escapes my lips when a hand wrenches itself in my hair, pulling my head back at an awkward angle. My eyes round when I take in Genaro, one of my father’s soldiers.
“Let go of me,” I spit at him as I claw at the hand in my hair. “ Bastardo .” It doesn’t do any good and I know that I am now in a world of trouble. My father doesn’t like it when I eavesdrop.
“What the hell is going on out here?” The door to my father’s office bursts open and his cold eyes land on me. A cold sneer paints his chapped lips as he takes in the scene before him.
“Caught me a little spy, sir,” Genaro tattles. Asshole.
“I can see that,” my father growls. “Bring her inside.”
“No.” I scream and kick, clawing my fingernails into the flesh of Genaro’s wrists, but it’s no use. Any hope I had of escaping my punishment ends when the door closes and locks us in.
“Wake up!” a deep voice snarls. Hands grip my shoulders and shake. The sudden jarring sensation has my eyes popping open, the horrific memory fading away back to obscurity. In its place, I find warm hazel eyes, framed in thick black lashes. Breathing deep, I take in my kidnapper’s soft scent. Cedarwood, smoke, and something I can’t name.
“What the hell was that?” his deep, gruff voice asks.
I’m not quite back on balance after being shaken awake and jerked from my memory, so I simply stare at him trying to remember what the hell is going on. Then I hear the wind rushing outside, slipping over the body of the plane.
“Nothing,” I reply softly, my throat slightly sore, voice hoarse sounding as if I’ve been screaming.
The man’s brow furrows as he takes me in, not believing my lie, but he removes his hands from my shoulders and steps back. The sudden loss of warmth causes me to shiver, and I attempt to pull the blanket enveloping me up further, forgetting my wrists are handcuffed in front of me.
“You were screaming pretty loud for it to have been nothing,” he says, not taking his eyes off me. Heat suffuses my cheeks, and I glance around at the other men on the plane who are all studying their phones rather intensely. That’s embarrassing. Then again, they all saw their boss whip me with his belt so…
I don’t remember screaming. Just the ghost of pain that accompanies that particular memory.
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” I sneer at him. Poking the bear is a bad idea, but I’m not going to sit here and explain to the man who kidnapped me why I was most likely screaming. “You can always just let me go when we land. Then you’ll never have to hear it again.”
The man smiles, but it is predatory.
And makes my panties wet.
I’m blaming it on reading too much romance.
“Keep dreaming, piccola cerva . It isn’t going to happen. ”
Shrugging my shoulders I mutter, “Girl can try.”
My kidnapper chuckles and retakes his seat next to me. I breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t force me to lay my head on his shoulder again. I’m not sure how long I was asleep, but the cabin is dimmer and the sky outside the plane’s windows is darker.
“We will be landing soon,” he tells me. The only thing I can do is nod mutely. It isn’t like I have a tray table to put up or a phone to turn off. It does give me time to contemplate my escape. It will be difficult since every person on this plane, but the stewardess and I are six feet and muscular men with guns.
If we land publicly enough, there is a chance I can make my escape that way. Create enough of a ruckus to draw unwanted attention to them. They won’t want that. I doubt they are going to parade me through the airport with handcuffs, and I might be able to use that to my advantage.
The plane dips and sways, and I breathe in a long breath through my nose and out my mouth as the pressure in the cabin shifts slightly as it descends. It isn’t long before the plane is bouncing on the runway as we land. I grit my teeth and attempt to steady my nerves as the plane coasts along the tarmac toward our intended destination.
“Welcome to New Orleans, gentlemen,” a voice says through the intercom, the pilot I’m assuming. New Orleans—what are we doing in Louisiana? Is this where he lives? I stay rooted in my seat as the men get to their feet, a few of them taking the time to stretch before going for their bags from the overhead bins. It’s not like I can do much with handcuffs on anyway.
Outside the small window, I can see a cavalcade of black SUVs swarming the aircraft. Is this all for us? The bright lights of the airstrip make it easy to see what is going on outside. My kidnapper is strolling out of the aircraft with a smile on his face as he embraces one of the men who steps out of the rear vehicle. They take a moment to talk, both their eyes flitting to where I am peering out at them.
The man nods to my kidnapper, a smirk on his lips.
Maybe I can get this man on my side, whoever he is. Whatever story my kidnapper is spinning to him; it can’t be the truth. Right?
A few minutes of waiting later, my captor is back at my side, unfastening my seatbelt and removing the blanket. It’s even colder now that the door to the aircraft is open and I can’t help the shiver that runs through me.
“I am going to introduce you to my friend now,” he tells me firmly. “Behave or you will find yourself with another trip over my lap, is that understood?”
Would he spank me in front of all those men out there?
“Yes.”
His hand comes to the back of my neck and tightens. “What was that?”
Gritting my teeth I respond how he wants me to. “Yes, sir.”
His eyes darken but he doesn’t say a word as he leads me off the plane. The man who greets us is tall, with large, formidable muscles and captivating eyes. He’s wearing Armani and shoes that cost more than my entire closet back home.
“Gia, this is Adrian Volkov,” he introduces me. “One of my most trusted friends.”
No, this can’t be. The blood drains from my face as I stare at the man before me in a different light. He won’t help me. No one can.
“Welcome to New Orleans, Gia.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s cold and calculated, the way it would be for someone in a position such as his.
Adrian Volkov, Pakhan of the Volkov Bratva , one of the most feared men in the world—and he knows my name. No, that can’t be. If this man is truly Adrian Volkov, then that means…
“Kenzo will be happy to see you again, Vitali.” Adrian turns his attention back to my captor. “You missed one hell of a wedding.”
No. No. No.
How can this be happening? I can’t have this bad of luck. Why? What have I ever done in my measly existence to deserve this?
This man, the one after my brother, is the one I’ve always been taught to fear. Everyone in the Romano empire knows of his unspeakable acts. His betrayal.
Vitali Romano, but they call il traditore del sangue.
The blood traitor.
The son who murdered his father.
And now he is holding me hostage.
Lady Luck is a heartless bitch.