Abducted

by K. I. Lynn

  The reality was staggering, and I would have faltered, using my one lifeline.

  “What do we do? We can’t just stay in this motel forever.” Was there anywhere to go? He said my father wanted him to keep me safe, but going back to him still seemed to fall under crawling back to him, under his rule in exchange for sanctuary.

  “Roman is coming for us.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  He was looking off in the distance, not focused on anything in particular. “Besides the plan he already made, I gave him the perfect excuse to kill me.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes locked on mine. “He wants to finish what he never could get close to doing, and he’ll use you.”

  Finish? My brow scrunched before it hit me.

  “He did this, didn’t he?” My finger lightly traced the large scar on his face. I could only imagine the pain he’d been in. From his scalp to the corner of his mouth, then swooping up across his cheek, barely missing his eye, and through his brow, stopping halfway up his forehead.

  “What happened?”

  His gaze met mine, and he took a moment to answer. “I told you, don’t trust Roman.”

  “Why would you trust him?” I asked. I wanted more. I was craving more of Domenico, of the man he was.

  He shook his head. “I never did. I grew up with Roman. From the time he could walk, he looked down at me. As we grew, he would do things like punch me and then go crying to his mother that I hit him. He was a devious little shit that got whatever he wanted.”

  “Were you punished?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Not often. My mother believed him the first time, but after she caught him punching one of the maids because she put him in the wrong sweater, she knew. He was a tiny tyrant. After that, my mother would pretend that she was going to take me to be reprimanded, and instead she iced where he hit me, gave me a kiss, and made me cookies.”

  “Why didn’t she do anything?” I asked. Placating him after the fact did nothing to stop the treatment. It was a loving gesture but didn’t stop the aggressor.

  “She couldn’t,” he said faintly.

  “She should have! You were being hurt, and she could have done something to stop it.”

  Domenico shook his head. “She did all that she could.”

  “What about your father?” I asked. Didn’t someone stand up for him?

  His jaw twitched. “He sided with Roman and told me to toughen up. So I did. Roman wasn’t the only one to pick on me. All of the Ferrante children, including their mother, did.”

  My eyes widened. Why did he grow up in such an environment? Why was he subjected to that?

  “Their mother? She hurt you?” I’d once seen the matriarch of the Ferrante family, and she seemed as slippery as a viper, and just as quick to strike. It didn’t surprise me that she would attack a child who wasn’t one of her own.

  He nodded. “She hated me, and her children followed suit. Throughout school, with each fight, I grew tougher, stronger. By high school Roman was no match for me on his own, so he roped in some friends to help.”

  “My God.” I straddled his hips and pulled his shirt up and over his head. Littered across his skin were scars, including a healed bullet wound. Some were hidden under the black and red tattoos that covered his skin. I’d never gotten to make such an inspection of him before, up close like that. To see the battle scars and war paint that littered his tanned complexion. “So much pain,” I whispered and leaned down to press my lips against his skin.

  “Carne di lupo, zanne di cane,” he whispered.

  You must meet roughness with roughness. It wasn’t just a saying, but a mantra, evident by the story shown on his skin.

  “Senior year Roman and his friends won as many fights as I did, to the point that nobody wanted to fight me. I sent more than a few of them to the hospital.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not in jail.” From what I’d cobbled together, they’d gone to school together, meaning probably a private school, maybe even the same one I went to. The school wouldn’t have allowed such behavior, so why were there no consequences?

  He shook his head. “Giovanni wouldn’t allow it. He saw promise and offered me a job, one that led to right here and right now.”

  “Where you gave it all away for me. Why?” It was a favorite question of mine—why? One that never received an answer. Why me?

  His gaze was locked on my lips and he reached up and cupped my chin, his thumb swiping across my bottom lip. His breath sped up while his teeth mashed together.

  “I’ve aided in the sale of many women in the past. There is money in people, and I know what happens to those that I transfer. Killing people? I’ve killed more than I can count, but the thought of sending you to either of those fates was something I couldn’t handle.”

  “Why me?” I was desperate for the answer, to know why I mattered.

  I drew in a breath as his hand snaked up my back, and the roughness of his palm sent a ripple of fire down to my core. A hard tug and we were chest to chest, his eyes locked onto mine, our lips a few short inches from touching. “You’re mine.”

  A shudder rolled through me. “As much as this is exciting me, you’re not answering me.”

  “But I did. You. Are. Mine.” His lips ghosted my neck, his teeth sinking in, nipping as he went. “No man but me will ever touch you.”

  He was distracting me, and I was so close to letting him. “How is this different than being sold to the highest bidder?”

  “Because the only thing you have to fear from me is the intensity of my need for you.”

  My chest clenched again. He wanted me, needed me. Me. “Tell me why.”

  “Why are you wrapped all around me after what I did to you?” he asked.

  I pulled back and blinked at him. “W-what?”

  “I’ve answered your why with the basest explanation I can. Now it’s your turn.”

  My gaze bounced between his eyes. “Because maybe, just maybe, you aren’t the monster I believed you were.”

  “I am a monster.”

  I shook my head. “Not to me.”

  There was a hum deep in his chest. “Oh, but I am.”

  “How so?”

  He rocketed forward, tipping me down to the bed as he caged me beneath him. “I want to devour every inch of you.”

  I drew in a sharp breath as his touch filled me with warmth.

  “Because you are the heaven I’ll never reach.”

  “Anche in paradiso non è bello essere soli. I go where you go.” There is no greater torment than to be alone in paradise.

  His eyes met mine. “You are my paradise. With you, I am not alone.”

  Sex was so much better after I admitted how much I wanted him. After he told me how much he needed me.

  For three days we’d remained locked in the hotel room. There were many hours that he kept watch out the window while I read one of the books I’d picked up from my apartment. I’d finished Domenico’s War and Peace while still in my cage and I was ravenous to read more.

  Oh, how I’d missed reading. I was elated to read again.

  “Isn’t your car conspicuous?” I asked as he stared out the window.

  “It’s not there.”

  I blinked and turned to him. I knew it was a bad neighborhood, but wow. “Someone stole it?”

  He gave a small shake of his head. “The motel owner has it in a storage garage in the back.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Not particularly, but a grand in hand and no questions were asked.”

  Based on his car and his status, money didn’t seem to be much of an issue for him. He was paid well. “So your little gang…what does it do for Ferrante?”

  His brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  “From what I remember of Ferrante’s men, they were always well dressed in three-piece suits, but you are usually…casual.” I fed him a morsel, and I waited to see if he’d take the bait, but it seemed his attenti
on was too focused outside.

  “Men in suits that aren’t Ferrante are guards and brown-nosers. Assassins whose only purpose is to kill. I am the task master, the collector, the informant. The enforcer. I carry out what Ferrante needs me to. I have a crew that is a mix of soldiers and associates.”

  “What types of things does your crew do?”

  “Whatever is required.”

  His half answers were starting to grate on me. “Are you going to keep up this whole secrecy act now?”

  His jaw twitched and he turned to me. “Do you want me to tell you that you’re the only girl I’ve plucked from the street? Because you’re not. The market for girls is bigger than you think.”

  “That’s what the Ferrante do?” I asked. My father’s threats came back to me. Maybe this was all a ruse to sell me.

  “It’s a lucrative piece of a larger puzzle. You should know by now that the Mafia makes the world go round. Influence by any means—money, blackmail, and force. Secrets are worth more than money, and the Ferrante are better at secrets than any other.”

  He wasn’t wrong there. “Any other what?”

  “Family. Organization.”

  “What other families are around?” I asked. It was me throwing out a lure, to see if he really didn’t know who I was.

  “Our number one enemy is Vitale.”

  I tried not to react to the name, especially when enemy was thrown in front of it. “I’ve heard that name before.”

  He nodded. “They are well known. I’m sure you heard it on the news. Their leader, Laureano Vitale, is old school.”

  My spine straightened, and I froze. Laureano? My heart hammered as I realized that Domenico really didn’t know who I was. At all. “I thought the leader’s name was something like Thomas.”

  “Tommaso,” he corrected. “He died a few years ago and his brother Laureano took over.”

  I stared at him as tears welled in my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Domenico asked as he moved to sit beside me. His finger tipped my chin up.

  “Do you like what you do? Finding girls and selling them?” I asked, pulling the conversation away from me.

  Domenico’s expression darkened. “No. Like I said, it’s very lucrative, but it isn’t something I particularly like doing. It’s my job, and I do it. I carry out the tasks assigned to me by Ferrante and I keep everyone in line.”

  “Out of fear?”

  “Fear is a great motivator. Was fear what you saw while in your cage?” he asked.

  I tilted my head. “A little, but it was mostly respect.”

  “I am the fourth-highest-ranking member of the organization.”

  I froze at that. “The fourth?” By his dress, I would never have thought he was so close to the top of the family hierarchy.

  He nodded. “Even capos have ranking.”

  But he wasn’t a Ferrante. “Wouldn’t Ferrante’s sons, like Roman, be higher than you?”

  He shook his head. “They have status, but not ranking.”

  “What’s the difference?” I asked.

  “Being a Ferrante demands a level of respect from everyone who is in the organization. They are untouchable, but they still have to earn ranking.”

  That explained a lot, like why Roman had to take orders from Domenico, despite his family standing.

  “Like Tommaso and Laureano, right? If Laureano took over, he had to rank, right? Tommaso was the older brother, and Laureano was second in charge. If Tommaso had sons, they would have been next, right? Instead, he had a daughter who was killed at a young age.”

  Domenico stared at me, lips parting, eyes widening as I spoke. Everything I’d led him to believe, my lack of knowledge of the world, was crashing down around him. I’d let slip my knowledge of multiple languages brought about by my private schooling. Quite possibly the same private school he went to.

  “How do you know all that?” he asked, a wary edge to his tone.

  I swallowed hard and fidgeted with the sheet. “Because someone lied to you. Or, rather, omitted some information.”

  He reached out and grabbed my arm. “What information?”

  Domenico knew I was full of secrets, that there was something different about me. He knew I wasn’t just some girl from the streets. I knew he’d picked up that much.

  I blew out a breath. “My name.”

  He froze as he stared at me, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew he could tell my next words would change everything. Every suspicion that I was important was about to be confirmed.

  “Ella Delgado is the name I gave myself when I ran away from the life, but the family never lets you go.”

  He dragged his hand across his mouth. “Who are you?”

  “Arabella Santoro, daughter of Maurizio Santoro.” Ferrante’s consigliere.

  His eyes widened and his hand went lax. “Fuck.”

  I bit down on my lower lip. “It makes sense now, huh? Why he wouldn’t want me ruined.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he asked with a hiss.

  I shrugged. “What would that accomplish?”

  “Better accommodations than a fucking cold, dirty cell,” he boomed out, clearly angry.

  I shook my head. “Then you’re not getting it. Everything my father does is moves and countermoves. He wanted me to break. To come to heel. To use his name in exchange for better treatment.”

  Fire burned in his eyes, and his jaw clenched tightly. “And you should have.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have,” I argued. “Doing that would mean relenting, willingly going home. I didn’t tell you because you were told to get me, to hold me, to keep me safe.”

  “You didn’t know that.” He jumped up and began pacing.

  I shook my head. “No, and that scared me. I would have used it, if the time had come.”

  He turned toward me, teeth bared. “The time came when I held your thighs open!” he growled.

  “You were still protecting me.”

  “You didn’t know that.” His voice grew louder each time he spoke as anger rolled off him.

  “And you know why I didn’t, why I couldn’t. I wasn’t in my right mind.” All my body had wanted was his body, and my mind had been a fog of confusion and lust.

  He shook his head as he tried to calm himself. “There were only days left on the rose.”

  “At that point, he would swoop in to the rescue, and I would be under his control again.”

  It started to click. “And you would lose all freedom.”

  I nodded. “But then you tattooed your name on my skin, and it gave me hope again that my situation was temporary. That I was yours.”

  “You are mine. This changes nothing.” He paced again, the explosive energy eventually draining away, and he sat down on the bed, facing me. “Why did you leave?”

  Because I was buried alive, clawing my way out, desperate to breathe fresh air. Desperate to live.

  “After my mother died, that house became suffocating and he became overbearing. I was dying there. I wanted to live, and that’s what I’ve done for the last three years.”

  His hand moved up my chest to my neck, his fingers gripping before pulling me forward. “I am even more suffocating. I will consume every bit of you.” His jaw tightened and his lip curled up into a snarl. “Your body and soul are mine. All of you is mine, and I’m not giving you up.”

  “Who said you had to?” I asked as I bowed into him.

  “You might not like how possessive my love is.”

  My heart skipped and I drew in a ragged breath. “Do you love me?”

  He bit down on my jaw before grabbing my hips with his other arm, yanking me to him, my thighs spreading to accommodate his.

  “I’ve marked you in nearly every way, and I will mark you in all ways.” His thumb brushed against my lower abdomen while his lips swept across my own. “Nobody will take you from me.”

  Tears filled my eyes as my chest clenched.

  All I ever wanted was the fr
eedom to be my own person, but that was changing. I wanted to be with him and never leave him. He made me feel alive in a way I never could on my own. I was still me, but I could see how strong we could be together.

  Us against the world.

  The weight of Domenico’s arm around my waist along with his chest pressed against my back gave me the best night sleep I’d had in a long time. The bed was shitty and hard, but the safety I felt lulled me into a deep sleep.

  I stared at the drab walls with the dirty, peeling wallpaper and waited, snug in his embrace, for him to wake up.

  His arm flexed, pulling me tighter to him.

  For days we’d been holed up in that small motel room.

  My strength had greatly improved with the increase in calories and fluid. My skin no longer looked like a corpse. My eyes were no longer encircled by darkness. Even my weight had begun to bounce back a little.

  After five days, the biggest secret had been revealed. We were both part of the same family organization, only I was a deserter. That was why my treatment was different.

  Later in the day, I was reading when a question that nagged at me sprang forth. “That Russian girl was only there a few days. Why was I given a rose and she wasn’t?”

  He looked at me, his thumb making small circles on my ankle. “The rose was your father’s doing. I didn’t understand why, obviously, but it’s now apparent it was a way to make you stand out. However, it only made you stand out as valuable.”

  “That girl had value,” I argued. I hated not knowing what happened to her, remembering how terrified she’d been.

  “Yes, she did, just like all others before her. Hers was monetary. Yours…I haven’t figured out yet.”

  There were only two reasons—to get rid of me or to use me. Both terrible options. “Once upon a time he was a loving family man, but the deeper he got into bed with the Ferrante, the more he changed. Slowly at first, but by the time I was twelve, his quest for money and power were the only things he loved. That was the first time I saw him hit my mother. She protected me from him for years after that until she couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  I twirled the locket in my fingers. Talking about my mother’s death was difficult because I was never allowed to talk about it before. It was one of those forbidden topics—and also the reason my father slapped me for the first time.