Page 99 of My Favorite Kidnapper

At the villa, she would surround me. Every room, every surface, would have a memory of her etched into it. Even outside, she would dwell, peering at me around every corner, taunting me with her memory.

I couldn’t bear it. Not yet.

I knew she was back in Toronto. Paolo had her. He had met the plane and took her to his house, making sure she had a safe place to recover and find her feet. When I asked how she was, his answer had been brief and to the point.

“How do you think she is?”

“Take care of her,” I replied.

His voice had softened. “I will.”

Winters’s revenge had already started. My gallery in Naples had been broken in to. Or at least, it was attempted. They did a great deal of damage to the outside but, luckily, hadn’t made it in. The gallery was closed until I had the exterior fixed. I went to investigate the damage, angry at the sight of my beautiful gallery torched and the glass windows, while still intact, covered in thousands of spider webs of cracks. The canopy was gone, lost to the flames, the beautiful handmade wrought-iron sign covered in soot and warped.

I’d had another run-in with Winters while there. I saw him across the street, his expression smug and satisfied. My anger burning bright over the destruction of my gallery, I stormed over to him, grabbing him by the lapels and glaring down at him.

“Looking at your handiwork, Winters? Gloating?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His smirk was exultant.

I pulled him closer, the bruises on his face dark and painful-looking. I hoped he was suffering. I certainly was. “I know this was your work. Revenge for humiliating you.”

“Where is your little toy?” he asked, his voice menacing. “I still plan on taking her from you.”

That was the wrong thing to say. I drew back, punching him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, falling to the ground.

“You stay away from her. From me. Come near her again, and I will kill you. Do you understand me?” I raged.

A gasp behind me brought me out of my anger. I passed my now-reinjured hand over my head, feeling weary. “Stay away, Winters. That is your last warning.”

I didn’t want him to know she was gone. I wanted him chasing around, looking for her. Going crazy because he couldn’t find her. I knew she was safe and protected. He wouldn’t get that satisfaction. I walked away, pushing my way through the crowd that had gathered. I left the gallery and returned to the condo.

I doubled all the security. My villa was protected, and my staff on high alert in my small town. Guards were outside patrolling twenty-four seven.

Another small business I owned in Naples was ransacked, the damage expensive. He was hitting where he thought I would hurt the most—my pocketbook.

But my heart was the worst place he struck. Without my little bee, nothing seemed to matter. But she was safe with Paolo. Winters had no information on her. He wouldn’t be able to find her.

Richard told me she had sobbed herself to sleep, and when she woke up, she was angry and defiant, barely talking unless she was expressing her displeasure.

“She called me some odd names,” he shared. “Motherplucker. Son of a biscuit eater.”

“She doesn’t like to swear,” I explained. “She prefers colorful expressions she has overheard.”

He had chuckled. “Colorful, indeed.”

Despite the pain I felt, his words made me smile. My little bee was tough. She’d make it through this. I had put money in her account, and I planned on backing a bakery for her—not that she would know the money was from me. I would have Paolo present her the offer, and I hoped she would accept it. I wanted her to have her dream.

For a brief while, she had been my dream. All the things I had never known I wanted or needed. But I had to let that go to keep her safe. Winters was unhinged enough; he would make good on his threat, and I couldn’t risk her being taken. Even once she left Paolo’s, I would make sure she was watched.

I sighed and scrubbed my face. I needed to get my act together. I showered and changed, heading to the kitchen to make some coffee. I looked at the calendar. She had only been gone a week, and it felt like forever. I wanted to call and talk to her, but I knew I couldn’t. She had to believe she was a passing thing. That we were over, so she could get on with her life. If I called, that plan would be out the window. There was no way I could disguise my anguish.

I got reports from all my people, pleased there was nothing new. No further damage, no fires, nothing even remotely suspicious around my buildings. Sipping my coffee, I wondered what Winters was planning. I could only hope I stayed a step ahead of him.

A knock at the door surprised me, and I was even more shocked to see the police officers waiting outside in the hall. Maybe Winters had decided to press charges.

I opened the door and forced a smile in greeting, hoping to be able to tell my side of the story.

I wasn’t smiling for long.