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There are half a dozen golden, fried egg rolls in the box. As hungry as I am, I’m too freaked out to move.
Vinicius shakes the box at me. “Egg roll? No? Suit yourself.” He takes one from the box and bites into it. The wrapper crackles and a few flakes fall onto the carpet at his feet, and my mouth waters.
“Mio Dio, you’re making a mess,” Cassius tuts, and shoves a plate at him. Yep, it’s definitely Cassius’ apartment.
“What am I doing here? What do you all want with me?”
Cassius raises heavy-lidded eyes to me, but turns his attention back to the food. He opens an enormous bag of prawn crackers and empties them into a bowl. I stare at them. I love prawn crackers and the weird way they stick to your tongue. Adjacent to me, Lorenzo eats Singapore noodles straight from the box, his eyes never leaving my face.
Cassius makes up a plate with fried rice, noodles and chicken stir-fry, adds a pair of chopsticks and holds it out to me.
I stare at the plate, and then at him. I’m supposed to just eat with them like being kidnapped is normal?
“I don’t understand what’s happening.” I point at Lorenzo but keep my gaze locked on Cassius. “You let that bastard molest me and cut me up. I’m not going to sit here and eat Chinese food with you all.”
“You are a little stray cat with nowhere to go,” he says in his thick accent. “You should be grateful we don’t lock you in a cage and throw you scraps.”
“What do you mean a stray? Youkidnappedme.”
Vinicius digs in a box of Szechuan chicken with his chopsticks. “We rescued you from a dangerous life. If it weren’t for us you’d be married to Salvatore by now.”
Sure, they’re so altruistic. The reality is they sabotaged my wedding to prevent their ex-friend from getting any advantage over them with my father.
“You didn’t want to marry Salvatore and your father would have killed you for disobeying him. Be thankful you’re here and eat.” Cassius offers me the plate again, but when I don’t take it he sits back and starts to eat it himself. He and Vinicius continue their conversation and my stomach growls loudly.
Eat. Just like that, as if everything’s fine now. I gaze at the food, recognizing the name of my favorite Chinese restaurants on the boxes. Mom and I used to eat lunch there after a morning of shopping because she loved their soup dumplings so much.
A pang goes through me at the memory, and I find myself looking around for some. “Are there any soup dumplings?”
I don’t expect anyone to pay me any attention, but Lorenzo reaches inside a paper bag and pulls out a plastic box steamed up on the inside. I reach for it, but he pulls it out of my reach. I was expecting him to do something like that, though, and I don’t react.
“If you really wanted to screw with me, you’d dump them all in the trash. Soup dumplings were my mother’s favorite.”
He chews for a moment, and then hands them over. “It’s no fun when you hand me your torment on a silver platter.”
As I peel back the plastic lid, fragrant steam rises around my face and I close my eyes and breathe in the aroma of pork and ginger. Lunch with Mom. No cares except for returning a dress that doesn’t fit or wondering if we have enough time for dessert before Mom’s next appointment. With a pair of chopsticks, I pick up a dumpling and shove the whole thing into my mouth. As I bite into the soft wrapper and meatball, the broth inside fills my mouth and I close my eyes in bliss. Mom would always order soup dumplings and let me eat some of hers while I tucked into Shanghai fried noodles with sliced beef.
When I open my eyes, all three of the men are staring at me.
“What? I like soup dumplings.”
A few minutes later, Cassius stands up to fetch a bottle of wine and glasses and sees I’ve eaten all the soup dumplings. He pats my cheek as he sits down. “Good girl.”
Good girl. I wonder if that’s a trick he learned from managing his club girls and strippers, a little bit of praise to keep them in line. To my surprise, he passes me a glass of wine along with the other two, and a bowl of noodles and some fresh chopsticks.
The white wine is cold and smells like apricots. Infinitely more appealing than tequila, and not dry like champagne, so I take a sip.
“How are things at the compound?” Vinicius asks Lorenzo.
“Almost empty. Things are quiet on the streets right now.”
The compound. That must be where Lorenzo lives. I keep my eyes on my noodles as I eat and pretend not to listen to their conversation. Sooner or later, I’ll hear something that will help me get out of here. An escape route. A bargaining chip. These men are only out for what they can get.
I can feel Lorenzo’s sharp gaze on the side of my neck. If I can’t find a way out of here soon, I’ll probably end up with my throat slit.
“I’m sure you’ll have your hands full now that our little guest has been taken,” Cassius says.
Lorenzo swears under his breath, as if whatever consequences he and Cassius are envisioning are all my fault.
