Condemned to Love: 

by Davis, Siobhan

  “You fucking traitor!” I hiss as I connect the dots. Only an insider could have gained access to the internal air-conditioning system to render us unconscious. Ian must have created some emergency to get all the bodyguards into the house so he could disarm them in one fell swoop. “You did this!” I can’t say I know the man well because he was mainly our nighttime guard in Chicago, and he worked with the main security detail at the house when we moved to Greenwich. Anytime he was around, he tended to keep to himself.

  “It’s nothing personal, Sierra. Just business.” He stares at B. “Why are you still here?”

  B gives him a terse nod, glancing at me briefly, before walking out of the room. My eyes trail him out into the dark hallway, spotting more steel doors on either side of the narrow space. He trudges up a small set of stairs at the end of the corridor, which looks like the only way out of this basement area. It doesn’t present much chance of escape.

  “Why?” I ask as Ian places the tray on the floor a few feet away. “Why did you do this?”

  “I was just following orders,” he says, unlocking one of my manacled wrists.

  “Whose orders?”

  He doesn’t reply, lifting the tray and holding it out to me.

  I glare at him. “How do you expect me to hold a tray and eat with one hand?”

  He mulls that over for a few seconds before setting the tray down again. “I’m going to unchain you, but don’t make me regret it. In case you’re thinking of escaping, we are in the middle of a forest in bumfuck Ohio and the nearest property is twenty miles away.” He points at the corner of the room, and I hone in on the small camera tucked into the crevice. “We have someone watching you around the clock, so don’t try anything.”

  “What the hell do you think I’m going to try? There are no windows and a steel door. We both know I’m going nowhere unless…you let me go.” I press my mouth to his ear. “You know Ben won’t stop looking for me. Let me go, and whatever the Russians have promised you, I will get Ben to match,” I whisper. “Or, if it’s money you’re after, I have plenty. Whatever you want, I will give it to you.”

  “You think I want your money?” He spits out the word, and his nostrils flare. I clearly hit a nerve. “This is about respect, and if Ben and Leo had any for me, I would have been treated better.”

  “They respect you,” I protest. “Ben would not have had you guarding Rowan and me otherwise.”

  “You think that job is a job any soldier wants? I was relegated to the sidelines, like I have been for years. All it would take is Leo or his father speaking up for me, and I would have been promoted. But they made it clear that wasn’t going to happen.” He scoffs. “My new boss recognized my value immediately. Offered me the promotion I have been hankering after for years.” He puffs out his chest. “Now I’m a capo, and the sky is the limit.”

  I can’t even dignify that load of bull with a response. If he’s that stupid, let him wallow in it until Ben puts a bullet in his skull. I don’t know everything there is to know yet, but Ben has spoken about the importance of loyalty and honor and how omertá is their code of silence. I know breaking the oath he swore means he has signed his own death sentence. I wonder if his new boss values him enough to protect him when the weight of the Mazzone famiglia comes down on him.

  “Here,” B says, reentering the room, holding out a blanket.

  Ian grabs it off him, dismissing him coldly. “Go watch the camera,” he snaps, reaching up to unchain my other wrist.

  My arms rejoice as they hang by my sides, still aching but glad to be free of the shackles. With gentle fingers, I probe the torn skin at my wrists.

  “Eat, and then I’ll bring you something for that,” Ian says, kicking the tray across the floor with his foot. Liquid sloshes out of the bowl, onto the tray, and the bottle of water tips onto its side.

  I sit down, pulling my knees up to my chest, as I drag the tray over. Ian throws the blanket at me and turns to walk off. He stops at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “You should know I’m not working for the Russians. I work for your father.” With that bombshell delivered, he exits the room, slamming the door shut. I stare straight ahead, openmouthed, my eyes wide in shock as he locks it from the outside.

  Surely, he’s lying, right? My father wouldn’t do this. I mean, I know he hates me, but he wouldn’t stoop this low. Would he?

  * * *

  Time loses all meaning, and I don’t know, for sure, how many days have passed since they kidnapped me. With no windows, I can’t see the sky to know if it’s daytime or nighttime. The only measure I have is my meals, which are delivered like clockwork at regular intervals.

  B enters my cell and deposits my dinner tray on the floor beside me before walking off without speaking. This is my third dinner, so I’m working on the probability it’s my third day here.

  That first day, I deliberated eating for ages, paralyzed in shock and fear. But I realized if they wanted me dead they would have just killed me. The fact I’ve been kidnapped means someone wants me alive, so I figure the food is probably safe to eat. Briefly, I considered not eating in protest, but I need to keep my strength up if I’m to stand any chance of getting out of here.

  I don’t know if Ian said what he said about my father to throw me, but I have veered back and forth over his claim, deciding my father is more than capable of it but struggling to understand why. I know he’s in bed with the mafia. I know The Outfit was reluctant to join The Commission, and the only conclusion I can draw is that my father is using me to force Ben into doing something. I could be wrong, but that’s the best I’ve come up with.

  I pull the blanket up over my shoulders to ward off the perpetual chill, and my fingers brush against my upper arm, feeling the small tracking device under my skin. It’s minuscule, and no one would find it unless they knew it was there. I’m hoping Ben can get a signal from the chip and he’s on his way for me. I try not to think about the fact it’s been three days and I’m still here. In moments when I let my fear loose, I worry The Outfit has done something to Ben and that is why he hasn’t come for me yet, but I try to keep those thoughts at bay because they don’t help.

  I run the tip of my finger over my diamond and emerald ring, and it’s the only glimmer of light in my newly dark world. Worry for Rowan is at the forefront of my mind all the time, and I can only imagine how scared he must be. We have only spent one night apart, and I know my absence must be frightening for him. If my father has taken him or done anything to hurt my son, I will hunt him down and murder him myself.

  I eat the bland beef stew, stale bread roll, and plain yogurt before washing it all down with warm water. Pushing my tray away, I scrape my ratty hair back off my face, plaiting it with cold shaky fingers. I feel disgusting having not showered, and I’m still wearing the jeans, sweater, and sneakers I was wearing when I was taken.

  The sound of muffled voices mixes with approaching footfalls, and I scramble to my feet, crossing my arms and waiting for whichever guards deem to grace me with their presence this time. Besides Ian, B, and Z, five other guards have attended to me. I guess they must be rotating shifts.

  The door flies open, and I blink profusely, sure my eyes must be deceiving me, because I must be imagining the familiar woman standing beside Z.

  I stare at her pristine pink Chanel skirt suit and high heels. Her blonde hair is styled in sleek waves that tumble over her shoulders, and her makeup is plastered on her tight face. A string of pearls rests on her collarbone, and she holds a small black and pink clutch purse in one hand.

  Her nose wrinkles in distaste as her eyes roam the small cell before landing on me. An ugly sneer tilts the corners of her cosmetically enhanced mouth before her lips part and she speaks. “You have no idea how long I have waited to see you languishing in the gutter where you belong, sister.”

  Her cruel words wash over me, along with all the other mean things Saskia has ever said to me. But it is the acknowledgment that my father is behind my kidnapping t
hat threatens to cripple me the most. Saskia would not be here otherwise, and it’s clear they are in this together.

  She steps right up but keeps her distance, grimacing at the state of my filthy clothes and my stringy hair. “You should have listened to me, and maybe fate would have been kinder to you, but you always think you know best.” Her eyes glimmer with pure evil, and I am seeing my sister stripped bare now. There is no more hiding the full extent of the poison that flows through her veins. She revels in it, not wishing to shield anything from me. “I always win, baby sister, but this may be my greatest triumph yet.”

  51

  SIERRA

  “You won’t be needing that anymore,” Saskia says, grabbing my hand and wrenching my engagement ring off my finger before I can stop her. Throwing it to the ground, she stands on it, using her stiletto heel to attack the diamond. Frustrated when it only inflicts minimal damage, she spins around, pointing at Z. “You! Get me a hammer.”

  Curling my damaged ring in her clenched fist, she rakes her derisory gaze over me again. “You look like shit, but it suits you. You have finally found your true place in this world,” she taunts, as Z reappears in the doorway, panting.

  Did the asshole actually run up and down the stairs to do her bidding?

  What an idiot.

  With cold calculation, Saskia snatches the hammer from his hand and stalks to the chair, placing the ring down on top of it. Her eyes glisten with devilish delight as she looks at me before lifting the hammer and bringing it down on my ring. She gleefully attacks it, smashing the pretty diamond, breaking the tiny emeralds surrounding it, and battering the platinum band until the ring is nothing but splintered shards on the floor. The seat of the chair is cracked, the legs barely able to hold it upright.

  My eyes dance over the broken remnants of my ring, and it feels like my heart is rupturing behind my rib cage. Intense pain settles on my chest, making breathing difficult, but I work hard to hide it. I won’t give that bitch any satisfaction. She doesn’t know that ring bolstered my courage and fueled my hope every time I looked at it. She doesn’t know how precious it is because Ben designed it with me in mind. She won’t know I still harbored hope Ben would rescue me in time to make our wedding day.

  She will never know because I won’t give her any more ammunition to hurt me.

  “You were always a petty, spiteful bitch, but that’s low even for you,” I say, feigning nonchalance.

  “Do you want to talk about spiteful?” she hisses. “Let’s talk about how you have made it your life’s mission to steal everything that should rightfully belong to me!”

  I know Saskia is prone to bouts of extreme drama and delusion, but this takes the cake.

  She clicks her fingers at Z. “Get me another chair,” she snaps, “and make it quick.”

  Like a dutiful lap dog, he races out of the room, into the next cell, emerging with an unbroken chair. He unashamedly ogles her as he sets it down in front of her.

  Ignoring him, she perches her bony ass on the hard wooden chair, pointing at me. “Sit!” she demands.

  “I’d rather stand.” I flatten my back to the wall and glare at her.

  “I said sit, so you will sit,” she retorts.

  “Make me.”

  She looks at Z, and he storms toward me, shoving me roughly to the floor. I scream in pain when he stomps his booted foot on my hand. Bones crack, shooting excruciating pain up my arm.

  “That’s enough,” Saskia says, grinning like all her Sundays have come at once. “Stand outside. I’ll call you if I need you.” He looks like he wants to protest, but one cutting look from my bitch of a sister, and he leaves us alone, closing the door but not shutting it fully.

  “We’re going to have story time, Sierra. I know how much you love making up fantasies for Rowan.”

  My claws come out, and I snarl at her as I cradle my injured hand to my chest. “Don’t you dare talk about my son. If you even mention his name, I will gouge your eyes from your sockets before your lackey has time to save you,” I growl.

  She flashes me an amused smile before continuing as if I haven’t spoken at all. “You know part of this story. The part where I met a boy from the wrong side of the tracks and fell head over heels in love with him. But you don’t know the background. Daddy promised me to Felix when I was thirteen, and the marriage arrangement stated we would wed after I came of age, sometime before I turned nineteen. Felix was handsome, and I knew I would have a good life with him, but I wanted to experience what it would be like to date other boys before I committed myself to one man, so I sweet-talked Daddy into agreeing I could date for eighteen months, provided I remained a virgin.”

  She shivers in the cold room, rubbing one hand up and down her arm. “The irony is, I only flirted with Ben and agreed to a date as a bet.” She giggles. “We met at a club in the city, and I could tell he was dirt-poor. Chastity and Verona said I wouldn’t last a week with a man who didn’t have the resources or the wherewithal to treat me how I deserved to be treated, and, well, you know how much I love a challenge.”

  I always wondered how they met and how they ended up dating. Ben is gorgeous, and I’ve no doubt she had the hots for him, but he had nothing, and ordinarily, Saskia would not have looked twice at him. It’s making more sense now.

  “He captivated me almost immediately, and while winning the bet indulged my competitive streak, keeping the man thrilled me more. Daddy wasn’t pleased at first when he saw how attached I had grown. That’s when he started digging into Ben’s background. After a few months, he discovered he was the illegitimate son of Angelo Mazzone, and that changed everything. Daddy came to me with a new proposal. I was to get Ben to propose and let him take me to bed. Giving my virginity to another man would render the contract with Barretta null and void, leaving me free to marry the Mazzone heir!”

  Her eyes sparkle, and she bristles with self-importance. “Felix was only the consigliere heir. This was a huge step up, and Daddy knew with me on his arm that Ben and I would rule all of New York one day. We had it all worked out. Ben would concede to Daddy as the overall don of La Cosa Nostra, and he would serve as his underboss. We would have more power and wealth than I ever dreamed of!”

  Her eyes glaze over, and I wonder if she is even present. I can picture her daily, sitting in front of her mirror, spewing this imaginary crap, visualizing herself as the new mafia queen.

  “And then it all fell apart, and I was enraged.” The dreamy expression on her face evaporates, replaced with a scary mask of anger that sends chills up my spine. “Angelo’s heir was murdered, and he yanked Ben to New York just as we were making our move.”

  “You seem to have conveniently forgotten the part where Ben broke up with you.”

  She darts forward, slapping me across the face. “Don’t fucking interrupt me when I’m speaking.”

  You know, I do believe my sister is insane. I have always known she is cruel and mean and jealous and vindictive, but she is so much more than that. She is a complete whack job.

  “We only found out recently that one of Daddy’s soldiers killed Ben’s half-brother to halt our plans.” She cackles, and the sound raises goose bumps on my arms. “Daddy repaid him for that, and I burned his house to the ground,” she gleefully admits.

  She can only be talking about Terry Scott. This is why he was living in fear. God, Ben will be so shocked when he discovers this truth. But why is she referring to him as one of Daddy’s soldiers? And why would Ben ever concede to my father as the main boss? I thought my father washed cash for The Outfit, but it’s clear now he is so much more than that.

  All the tiny hairs lift on my neck as I try to slot the last puzzle pieces into place.

  “Of course, we timed it to perfection.” She prattles on. “Knowing it would bring Ben back to Chicago. Bumping into him on the street with Rowan was unplanned, but I thought it would work to my advantage until you had to go and ruin everything!” she screeches, digging her nails into her thighs.

/>   My blood boils, like it does anytime Saskia mentions my son. She has never shown him the slightest interest.

  “Not that it’s darling Rowan’s fault, of course,” she adds, wearing a fake adoring smile that snaps the tenuous control on my emotions.

  I lunge at her, shoving her off the chair. “I told you not to mention his name!” I yell, crouching down to punch her in the face with my uninjured hand. My fist slams into her cheekbone, and she screams bloody murder just as Z bursts into the room.

  He grabs me off my sister, shoving me forcefully against the wall, and I scream in pain as he yanks my hands up over my head, forcing them into the manacles. My injured hand throbs, and the torn flesh on my wrists, barely healed, rips open again. Tears leak from my eyes of their own volition as pain ricochets up and down my arm.

  “Are you okay?” Z asks, hovering over Saskia and extending his arm to help her up. His eyes fly to her thighs, bare underneath her skirt that has ridden up her legs.

  “Don’t look at me like that, you pervert,” she snaps, grabbing his arm and pulling herself upright. Once she is standing, she pushes him away. “Leave. And next time, wait to be called. I had it handled, idiot.”

  A muscle ticks in Z’s jaw, and he looks like he could hit her. Silently, I egg him on, but he’s got no balls, and he won’t follow through. He storms out of the room, muttering under his breath, and I think his rose-tinted glasses have dropped off.

  Saskia prods at her cheek, wincing, and I hope I left a nice big bruise. Her eyes narrow with pure hatred as she strides toward me, punching me repeatedly in the gut. “You fucking bitch! How dare you hit me!” She lands another punch to my stomach, and it’s starting to hurt. What she lacks in brute strength she makes up for in enthusiasm. “You better pray this doesn’t bruise, baby sister. Daddy may have promised Ben he’d keep you alive, but I have no qualms about killing you.”