“I can’t help answer any of your questions. I don’t know anything.”
When he moves to a table at my side, his large frame becomes fully exposed. Compared to the last time I saw him, he's more casually dressed, wearing dark denim jeans and a long-sleeve Henley shirt that showcases his well-formed, muscular physique. My breath snags when my eyes zoom in on a semi-automatic weapon and a Glock sitting on top of the table he's standing next to.
“You’re not the one answering my questions, Isabelle.” He snatches the semi-automatic weapon off the table and houses it in the back of his jeans. “He will be.”
Anxiety makes itself known with my gut, but before a word can spill from my mouth, a heavily accented voice sounds from across the room.
My assailant rushes toward me to stuff the gag back into my mouth. “Be quiet and follow my lead. Doing that is the only way you're assured of leaving this building still breathing.”
Not waiting for me to reply, my attacker stands behind me as the shuffling of his feet drum along with my pulse.
“He is to stay outside. The deal was only you. Him being here was not the terms of the negotiation we agreed upon,” says the kidnapper. “If you wish to cancel our agreement, I’ll move Isabelle on to the next highest bidder. A woman of her caliber is highly sought after in this industry.”
Fear straightens my spine as my frenzied eyes dart side to side, frantically trying to see who has once again purchased me. Due to my poor position, all I can see is the shadow of three men reflecting off the office window.
“Mario, wait outside,” instructs a deep, accented voice.
An uncomfortable length of silence passes, the only noise heard is the wild beat of my heart and someone’s stomping steps.
I snap my eyes shut and suck in a big breath, vainly trying to quell the anxiety thickening my veins. When I flutter them back open, my breath snags and my pupils dilate. There, standing before me is one of the men I fear the most.
Col Petretti.
“Hello again, angel.”
My teeth grit the material in my mouth when he squats down in front of me to glide his hand down my face. If my feet and hands weren’t bound, I would kick and fight with all my might to get away from one of the most ruthless men I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. But since I'm tied to a chair, I angrily snarl at him instead before cranking my head to the side, denying his touch.
“Such a spark of feistiness,” he remarks with a broad grin carved on his abhorrent face. “Just like your mother.”
My breathing stills as my eyes snap back to his. I’m unaware he knew my mother.His grin grows conceited when he notices my confused expression. He grips my chin painfully before lifting my head into the air. His beastly eyes roam over me like he's studying the clarity of a rare black diamond instead of a tear-stained face.
Once his skin-crawling assessment is over, he releases my chin and stares at me. “I knew you were Felicia’s daughter from the moment I saw you outside of Isaac’s club, 57. You're the spitting image of your mother in every way. Same hair coloring, skin tone, beautiful angelic face.” His eyes narrow into thin slits. “Except for your eyes. They’re as rotten as the man who gifted them to you. I’d always wondered what happened to you the past twenty years, but your father didn’t. Do you know what he said when I told him I’d found you?”
I remain quiet, refusing to react to his taunts.
“I’m not interested,that’s what he said. He didn’t show any emotions at all.” He grips my hair and yanks my head back before drifting his eyes down my body. “Even with his hideous eyes, you're an angel, a gift from heaven. Perhaps I should have shown him a photo so he could see how much you look like your mother. I bet he would’ve been interested then.”
My nostrils flare as I inhale deeply. All this time, Isaac thought he was protecting me from Col because of his vendetta against him, but Col wasn’t after me because of what happened to Ophelia. He wants me because of who my father is.
I can’t fathom why? If he thinks he can use me as a bargaining chip against my father, he's more senseless than I originally thought. Vladimir Popov doesn’t negotiate with people’s lives unless he's the one selling them.
“Your mother was a breathtaking woman, Isabelle. It was such a pity she had to die.” Col’s callous tone doesn’t match his statement. “If only Vladimir were more willing to share his toys, then maybe she’d still be alive.”
My eyes widen before shooting to Col’s to seek any truth to his statement.
He chuckles a menacing laugh. “Oh, you didn’t know? Although your mother was addicted to meth, she didn’t die of a drug overdose as reported. She died because of your father’s inability to share his whore.”
I grit my teeth and shake my head, causing tears to spill down my face. My Uncle Tobias was a truthful man. He told me my mother died of a drug overdose. He wouldn’t have lied to me.
“You're lucky no one from Vladimir’s crew has heard of your false allegations,” sneers my kidnapper.
Col’s dark gaze shifts from me to him. “That’s where you're wrong, Rick. Not only were Vladimir’s closest family members aware of the treachery over Felicia’s death, they helped conceal her murder.”
Apfftwhizzes from Rick’s mouth. “Why hide her death? Felicia’s life was a disaster. She was nothing but a low-grade whore who was paid for services rendered with drugs and money stained with blood.”
My nostrils flare as I glare at my assailant. Even though my memories of my mom are vague and full of unpleasantness, at the end of the day, she's still my mother. Without her, I wouldn’t exist.
Col stands from his crouched position to move to stand next to Rick. Even though he’s several years older than Rick and more notorious, Rick isn’t the slightest bit intimidated by him. He stands tall with his feet planted the width of his shoulders and a snickering expression etched on his face.
