Chapter 33 #2
I eye the silly teacup suspiciously. What’s the right course of action when you’re tied to a chair, and your kidnapper offers you a beverage?
Definitely not drink it! But the thrillers and crime novels I love have taught me that to survive a kidnapping, I need to establish rapport.
Compliance is probably the safest strategy.
I nod.
As Bartholomew pulls down the gag lodged in my mouth, I briefly consider biting him, but that would achieve nothing.
“What did you inject me with?” I rasp as soon as the gag is out.
“Just a common tranquilizer.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Everything in me revolts against sharing intimate information with this madman, but I’m no longer worried about just me. “I’m pregnant. I need to know what you gave me.”
“Oh, congratulations! What wonderful news. How far along are you?” A beaming smile flashes across Bartholomew’s face. It’s so sincere. So kind. So fatherly.
A chill runs down my spine.
“I’m not sure. I did the test just before I ran into you. Will whatever you gave me harm my baby?”
“There’s no need to worry, my dearest Iris. The sedative won’t cause any harmful side effects.” He brings the cup to my lips. There’s a hint of warm spice in the chamomile tea. Cinnamon.
I pull back after a single swallow. “Why are you doing this?”
Bartholomew’s face falls, and he exhales a long-suffering sigh. He sets the tea aside on an overturned bucket and shoves his hands into the pockets of his plaid pants. With his back hunched and shoulders curved forward, he stares at his feet. As strange as it may seem, he actually looks apologetic.
“This was my last resort, you know. I kept hoping he’d come to his senses.
Years and years of trying to get him to understand.
But, some people are stubborn to their core.
Throughout the decades of my career, I’ve never met another person as capable of such powerful denial as he.
It’s practically an art form. Your husband is truly one of a kind. ”
My eyes round in shock. This is about Adriano?
“You see, learned patterns are always hardest to break.” He kicks a twig across the grungy floor with the tip of his shoe.
“Along with self-imposed beliefs. Left to fester long enough under specific conditions, the ideology solidifies so fully that it becomes an impenetrable doctrine. Without ever being aware of it, the individual succumbs to a narrow, rigid, categorical structure, you could say. Unable to see that there is so much more to life than only power, influence, or money. Unless it could be measured, quantified, other facets in their sphere are immaterial to them, worthless. Compassion, warmth, affection… Hell, even anger and jealousy—all emotions, really—they can simply shed them like a tree losing its dry leaves for the winter. Discard, eliminate, expel…until nothing but a hollow, frozen trunk remains. That’s how they survive.
But they do not live.” Bartholomew looks at me then, his eyes brimming with a mix of sadness and determination.
“I’ve been trying to save Adriano from that fate for a very long time. ”
“So, how does kidnapping me fit into your…crusade?”
“As I said—last resort. When all else fails, a man must face an impossible choice.” Out of nowhere, he produces a silver pen and starts clicking it frantically while wearing out a circle around me on the old, dirty floor.
“I’ll be honest, I thought messing with his business would have shaken him up, at least a bit.
I would have taken even a small emotional response as a win.
But other than irritability because of the constant demand on his time, he showed me nothing else. ”
Like a metronome hidden somewhere in the room, rhythmic clicks of the pen fill the space as he makes tracks around my chair. I wince whenever I lose sight of him.
“So, I kept upping my game. Gradually. But there was no effect, and I was rapidly running out of people I could use. I mean, there are only so many places ex-cons could get to and only so much they could do when it comes to a behemoth like Ruffo Enterprises. The kid who set fire to that oil rig was dumber than hell, and just as scared. Instead of completing the small act of arson I tasked him with, he nearly got himself and everyone else blown up. He almost ruined everything. I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure no one ever got hurt by my machinations.
But, unfortunately, I can’t prevent human idiocy. ”
He stops right in front of me, his gaze boring into mine like he’s pleading with me to understand. But understand what? How do I fit into this…this insane plan of his?
“At that point, I was already losing my faith, convinced that everything I’ve done was in vain.
But then, you showed up.” Click… Click. Click.
“Yet he kept fighting it, of course. Denying the truth. So I changed my tactics. And then, just watched him lose it, bit by bit. It was a beautiful sight to witness.”
“Lose what? Witness what?”
A maniacal smile unfurls on Bartholomew’s face. He resumes walking, rounding my chair in haste, faster and faster. The clicking of his pen gains tempo.
“You should have seen him in my office this morning. Stubborn, stubborn man. He’d rather die than confess the truth, but I’ll make him say it.” Click. Click. Click. “Not with words, but with actions. It will be my greatest achievement! And at the same time, my parting gift.”
Staring at him, I try to fold into myself as much as the restraints will allow.
I just want to make myself as small as possible.
My panic continues to swell. Bartholomew looks way too excited, his eyes way too bright.
They nearly glow as he fervently clicks his pen.
By all appearances, he is a man possessed, and none of his words make sense.
“He will arrive at any moment. He will admit the truth! He will acknowledge that there is something in this world that Adriano Ruffo finds more precious than money, more alluring than influence, and more consuming than power. Something that he loves more than he loves himself.”
The clicking of the pen stops.
“You.”
It couldn’t have hit harder if he put a bullet point-blank in my head.
The taste of acid fills my mouth while I gawk at Bartholomew’s crazed, excited gaze.
I glance away after only a moment, unable to bear the crushing weight of the false hope shining in his eyes.
The agony that floods me surpasses even the overwhelming fear that has held me in its grip since I woke up at the mercy of a madman.
Does he truly believe, in this twisted fantasy of his, that my husband will march in here and declare his undying love for me? All while saving me from the villain, as if we’re stuck in a romance novel?
Will Adriano come for me? Most likely. He’ll see it as his duty, an opportunity to ensure he doesn’t appear weak. Appearances matter in la Famiglia. My husband will make sure I’m saved. It just won’t have anything to do with his feelings.
“He will come,” I whisper, while my heart withers in my rib cage. “And he will probably kill you. As for the rest… You might as well save your breath.”
Bartholomew’s psychotic grin stretches even wider. “Looks like Adriano’s not the only one in denial!”
“I’m not in denial. This is reality.” I drop my head and inhale slowly. “Adriano may…like me, in his own way. Or, feel…something for me. But it’s not love. I’m…I’m not sure he is capable of that.”
“And what about you? Are you in love with him?”
Am I? I’m afraid that I am. Despite everything he’s done… Despite who he is… I’m in love with my husband. “Yes.”
“I see.” He lifts his pen, tapping the end on his chin. “I hadn’t foreseen the possibility of a baby, but this could work in my favor. Will Adriano be capable of overcoming this latest blow? His wife carrying another man’s child?”
My head snaps up.
“W-what?”
“How did it happen? Did you manage to slip away from your protection detail, or did you conceive even before the wedding?”
I stare at Bartholomew, appalled.
“How did it happen?” I shout back. “Sleeping with my husband for the past three months is a very likely way, don’t you think?”
“Oh… You know it’s him? At the gentlemen’s club?”
“Yes. I found out shortly after our wedding. I have never cheated on my husband.”
Bartholomew chuckles. “It’s really rather funny. He believes he can’t have kids.”
I gape at him. “What?”
“It’s true. And Adriano’s greatest dream has always been the one thing he could never attain.
Not with all his money or all his power.
A child. His child. He was diagnosed with male infertility, you know.
Extremely low sperm count. Quite shocking for someone who believed his influence could procure anything.
” He approaches and crouches in front of me, a playful expression overtaking his face.
“I love this new development. It’s time. ”
He shoves the gag back into my mouth before I can utter a single word.
“Don’t worry, I never intended to hurt you. If everything goes to plan, you lovebirds will be soaring away together into the sunset,” he says happily as he heads toward his duffel bag. “Unless Adriano disappoints me, of course. Then he’ll die.”
An anguished scream builds in my throat as I watch in horror while Bartholomew pulls out a gun. Just as the rumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel under tires reach me from outside.