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"Watch your step, sweetheart," one of them sneers; his stale tobacco breath fills my nostrils. His tone is mocking, and I feel nauseous at having him so close to me.
"Where are you taking me?" I demand to know, hoping they’ll tell me.
"Rafaele wants a word with you," another voice replies, cold and distant.
“I know that,” I hiss. “But where are we? At his compound? Someplace else?”
"Quiet!" is the only answer I receive, accompanied by a sharp shove that nearly knocks me off balance.
His grip is the only thing that keeps me from falling.
Finally, we come to a sudden halt. I crane my ears, praying there are no dogs around. Rafaele’s threat of feeding me to the dogs still haunts me. I feel some small relief when I don’t hear any growling or barking.
A door opens, and I’m pushed through it. The goons force me down into a chair, and one of them roughly yanks the blindfold from my face while another removes the ties around my hands.
I could try to escape now, but there are too many of them.
“Stay seated,” says one, pointing a gun to my head, so I do.
Blinking rapidly, I struggle to adjust to the dimly lit room surrounding me.
"Welcome, Romola," a deep voice cuts through the darkness, causing me to tense involuntarily. My gaze flicks around the room, searching for Rafaele.
His tall figure emerges from a concealed door in the midst of a bookshelf. Franco follows right behind.
"Rafaele," I got him his diamond despite the fact that he killed my father and now this? This is how he treats me?
"What do you want from me?" I ask, my throat burning with indignation.
“Everyone out,” he tilts his head just a little to the right, not looking back at his mafioso. “Franco stays.”
His men shuffle out, and the door creaks shut.
In that moment, I feel a new wave of terror wash over me as I’m left alone with two of the most evil men in the world - the very men who murdered my father. I swallow hard, my throat tight with fear.
But I won’t let him see that. Rafaele feeds off fear like a vampire does blood.
“You really didn’t have to give me such VIP treatment,” I tell him with sarcasm.
A flicker of surprise flashes through his eyes. He wants me afraid, begging for mercy. That’ll never happen.
“I'm Glad you approved of the service," he says.
"I'm flattered. But you are mistaken if you believe this is a matter of luxury.”
Rafaele’s lips curl into a cruel smile. "I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
"Give us the diamond, Romola," Franco sneers, his face twisting into a devilish grimace.
Rafaele's eyes lock onto mine with a chilling intensity. He approaches slowly, each step deliberate and calculated. My heart pounds in my chest as he stops in front of me, his gaze unwavering. His hand reaches out, almost caressing the air between us before closing around my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“Where is it?” he asks, each word sounding slimy.
I pull my face away from his touch, and despite the fear coiling in my chest, I muster all my defiance.
“I did what you asked. I brought you the diamond. But I’m not just going to hand it over,” I say flatly.
Rafaele raises his eyebrows with amusement while Franco lets out a scream of rage. Neither of them said anything.
