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Lyle leaves my office, and I realize my cigarette has burned out in the ashtray. I take another and light it. Sitting in my high-backed chair, I contemplate what I’m about to do.
I should contact my father and seek his advice, but at the same time, I want to demonstrate to the family that I am solid in my decisions and that they are good decisions.
I take a drag on the cigarette before I get up, balancing the cancer stick between my fingers and pouring myself a glass of whiskey neat.
I sit back down and sip the whiskey with a sigh.
Chapter 7 - Kira
As soon as they close the door behind me, I rush to the window and open it. There’s no ledge to climb onto or shimmy along, and we’re too high up to do much else—a downside of high-rise buildings. There isn’t even a fire escape close enough to climb onto.
I look down at the street and consider screaming for help to the people below, but again, we’re too high up. The sound of the city will easily drown out my voice before it reaches the people walking below. I try waving my arm to get attention, but no one looks up at me. I sigh and shut the window looking around the room.
It’s completely empty, not even a bedside lamp. I open the cupboards, and they are bare as well. I slam the door shut and check the bedside tables. They’re fastened to the headboard as a set and won’t come apart, so I can’t throw them at someone. I need a weapon.
I check under the bed and in the other cupboards and then go into the en-suite bathroom. There’s nothing in the medicine cabinet. There are some built-in shelves, but the only thing on them is towels. Nothing much I can use. I stare at the mirror.
Maybe if I wrap a towel around my hand, I can break the mirror and use a large shard as a weapon. It would be sharp enough to stab someone or at least pose a threat.
Dammit! I should never have come back to New York. I knew the risks when I did, but I missed my family so much and wanted them to meet Raphael. Now I run the risk of Miguel finding out about the son he doesn’t know he has. He would take Raphael from me—of that, I’m sure.
I sit on the bed. If I break the mirror, they will undoubtedly hear it and come charging in. Besides, a piece of mirror versus guns? I’m not that naive.
I need to wait for the perfect opportunity to try to get out and run away, maybe call the police for help. I know that’s really frowned upon in our family, but I also know the police are on the Sorvino payroll. My father has needed their help more than once in the past, so I know I can trust them.
I hear voices outside my room and try to decipher what’s being said. I hear mention of eggs, and now I’m confused. I sit for what feels like an eternity when the door opens suddenly, and a petite woman enters, leaving the door behind her open. She is carrying a tray with a plate of food and what looks like a cup of coffee.
I don’t even give it a thought. I get up and charge the woman. She freezes in surprise, and I push her to the side, sending food and hot coffee flying as she slams into the cupboard to my left. I run out of the room and look for an exit quickly. As I’m about to take off toward what looks like the front door, arms wrap around my waist and hold me tightly.
I scream and scratch at the arms. When they move higher to hold me in a better grip, I bite at the arms, forcing them back down. I wiggle and move as much as possible, but whoever has me won’t let go. Eventually, he picks me up, and although this allows me to kick him better, I can’t seem to connect in a good enough spot.
I hear the click of metal and turn my head to the right to see a gun. I stop instantly, breathing hard. Another goon has joined the one holding me and is pointing his gun at me. “Calm the fuck down and get back in the room.”
“No,” a voice says from nearby, “bring her to eat with me. Let me explain the rules ofmyhouse to her.”
I’m picked up like a doll and carried into an open dining area where Miguel sits, enjoying a hot English breakfast. He always did like English breakfasts when we were in college together.
They sit me in the chair, but they don’t go far. I glare at the don. “Release me, Miguel.”
“Bring her a plate of food, and clean up whatever messed is in the guest room,” he says, ignoring me.
One of the goons leaves, and the other stands directly behind me. The woman I attacked soon comes shuffling with another plate of food and sets it down in front of me.
“Eat,” Miguel says, starting to eat his own food.
I cross my arms over my chest and look at him stubbornly. “Release me, Miguel, and I’ll tell Alessandro not to kill you.”
Miguel chuckles coldly. This isn’t the man I remember. The man…the boy I remember, was fun-loving, full of life and feeling. I always thought he should be a poet or an artist. This, in front of me, is a cold man with no heart. I can see it in his eyes.
“Eat, Kira, because if you irritate me enough, I will stop feeding you altogether. I am only extending you this kindness because of Don Sorvino and your relation to him. I could easily treat you like the other Sorvino soldiers I’ve picked up over the years.”
I don’t want to test that theory, so I calmly pick up a knife and fork and start to cut up the bacon and an egg.
“Good.” He goes back to his food and looks at me almost thoughtfully.
“The first thing you need to realize is that you are my hostage,” he pauses to take a sip of coffee, “and that means you do what I want you to do, or I get to torture you. Don’t think I won’t, Kira. I am not a naive little college boy anymore. I will do whatever is necessary to advance my family.”
I shake my head. “But you wanted Arianna, not me. It’s not too late to let me go.”
