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And with that thought in mind, I hold out my hand. “Done. Give me the information. I want the money in my account before this happens.”
At my agreement, a look crosses his face as if he’s the happiest devil to walk the earth.
“Antonio!” he hollers, and a few seconds later, the door opens, and footsteps sound behind me. He hands Fetulli the sleek black folder, and in turn, Ferro hands it to me. “Thank you for your services, Dr. Randazzo.”
Without another look in my direction, he exits out a door at the opposite end of where we came in, his men following suit. I wait until they’re all gone before I turn to take my leave.
A new job means it’s time to prep. A leader in our world has called for me to end the threat to it, and that’s what I intend to do.
Opening the envelope, I see her name.
“Arabella Fetulli. Time for you to go.”
3
Arabella
“I’ve got them, Marco. Thank you,” I tell my driver as he tries to take the couple of shopping bags from me when I step out of the car and out onto the curb. “You have a good night.”
He gives me a nod, closes the door, then circles around the front of the car. “You too, ma’am. Enjoy your books,” he replies, since the last stop we made was at the little bookstore just at the edge of town.
I stand there on the curb, watching the car pull away, left mostly alone once again. Yet, I feel eyes on me. The hair rises on the back of my neck, an awareness prickling through me as if I’m being watched.
But then I shake my head, snorting to myself. Of course I feel like I’m being watched. I always have eyes on me, even when I tell Ferro and my father over and over that no one cares enough about me to need constant security. But alas, my assurances go unheard. I glance around, trying to spot the guards I know are there, but they’re good at their job, staying unseen as I turn and start to make my way toward the side door of the building that houses my penthouse.
My brain doesn’t register the stealthy steps until they’re already upon me, my fingertips barely glancing the door handle when darkness consumes my vision and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. I take in a lungful of air to scream, but a hand the size of a mitt clamps down over the hood that’s blinding me, cutting off any sound I could’ve made. At the same time, what feels like an enormous cloth-covered brick wall comes up against my backside, my ass nestling against tree-trunk thighs, and the back of my head meets the middle of a chest that feels like boulders for pecs.
I struggle with all my might, but it’s clear within only a moment that it’s absolutely useless. I don’t even move an inch as I use all the strength I’ve earned from my daily workouts. He moves me backward with ease, a bulldozer lifting a single grain of sand, and all I can do is dig my nails into the forearm now wrapped around my chest. It’s all I can reach, my shopping bags still hooked in the crook of my elbow. The sound of the paper bag knocking against the side of our bodies the only one I hear until he speaks, the depth of his voice sending chills up my spine, around my neck, and down to peak my nipples.
“The alley four blocks up on the left,” he murmurs.
I don’t know who he’s talking to nor hear their response, but as his other arm comes to wrap around me, my fear mixes with just a touch of… comfort?
God, how pathetic am I? How lonely have I truly become that a stranger’s embrace—a clear kidnapper’s hold—brings me even a modicum of consolation?
And when he says in that gravelly voice, “Hush, Arabella. You’re mine now,” I feel my body slightly melt into his, and I tell myself it’s because I’m saving my strength to fight when I’m in a better position to actually get away.
In my warped sense of time, I can’t tell if it’s only seconds or an eternity until I hear a car pull up nearby, and then I’m moving. I’m lifted against this man’s body once more before a door is opened, and when I’m next settled, it’s on his lap, my now bare feet slipping against the leather seat, where I feel the buckle for the seatbelt against my heel. I absently wonder where my shoes went, knowing as soon as the thought forms how idiotic it is to worry about Louboutin flats instead of like… my life.
But again, as terrified as I am of what’s going on, of the unknown, there’s still that undercurrent of safety. It’s the most confusing mix of emotions I’ve ever felt in my existence, but at the same time, it’s almost a treat to feel anything other than boredom and loneliness. I had worried I’d lost all other emotions, since I hadn’t felt anything besides those in years.
