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The big man tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and stayed silent for a while. I thought he was never going to answer when, finally, he spoke.
“I have not decided. Is small offense, what Jimmy has done. But drastic consequences for small offenses can lead to no more offense. We deal with Italian Mafia now, and Jimmy may be example. I need to keep others in line. The worse the punishment, the better others listen.”
I gulped and could feel tears start to slide down my cheeks. He was talking about a permanent lesson then, or at least it sounded like it was on the table. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the thought that I might die that day. My mind just refused to think about what it would be like to die or what would happen after. Instead, I focused on how I might best prevent it. Maybe the more he liked me, the more he would want to keep me alive.
“It makes sense,” I told him, sounding calm even though my tears flowed freely. “If you put a bridle on a horse’s head, the rest of the horse goes where you want it to. Killing me might be too harsh, though.”
“No such thing as ‘too harsh’ in Russian world,” he shrugged. I looked up at him, making an effort to stop crying. I wiped my tears on my arms while studying him.
“There is in ours. If people think something is too difficult, they usually turn away or find another way to get what they want. If you kill me, it might show others that you are too harsh, and they will just buy the product somewhere else. You might be shooting yourself in the foot.”
He looked at me then back at the road. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I wondered if that was good or bad. I might be pissing him off which might get me killed sooner. Shit, me and my big mouth.
“Good point,” he grumbled softly then lifted his voice a little, as if the acknowledgment had been for himself and the rest of what he had to say was for me. “No death then. But there are other severe options. Some you might not want to deal with.”
“Like what?” I asked, already knowing what he was referring to but wanting to keep him talking. Maybe I could talk him out of everything and make things better for Jimmy and me. Maybe I could get him to turn against Daniel. I would feel bad if it got Daniel killed, but at least the blame would be where it belongs.
“I have thought…” he hesitated and looked at me again, this time doing a full-body scan. I tensed and had a sinking feeling that I knew what the next option entailed. “You are very beautiful woman.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting the compliment. He nodded.
“Daniel showed me picture of you, and I thought you are my type. I think I want to take you physically.”
“Like… kidnapping?” I hesitated, not sure if I wanted this answer.
“Yes… and no. Worst blow to man is if his wife lay with another. I could take your body, show him tape, then take you to Russia with me. You could be my wife.”
I swallowed hard and looked at the giant sitting in the seat next to me. He was so much bigger than me that if he tried to have sex with me, he might very well crush me. There were so many other reasons why that would be a horrible option, and I could have said so many angry things, but I needed to stay on his good side. He liked me, he was attracted to me, and I could use that to my advantage somehow. I needed to be smart about this, and I needed to be calculating.
I had to imagine that Jimmy knew I was gone by this point, and he would let our fathers know. I knew I had backup coming. I just needed to give them time to find me. I could do that. I could be patient and play along.
“I love my husband,” I told him. “I do not like this option because of that, so I would like to explore other options. But it is not the worst plan I have ever heard. Also, I am worried that you would crush me.”
He let out a bark of a laugh.
“I would not crush you, little one. You are little small for my taste, but you would fit well on top of me, and I would see how much of me I could fit inside you.”
Luckily, I was saved from having to answer. He parked the car and slid easily out of the seat. I took two deep, long breaths, letting the stress that had snuck into my spine go free. Calm, cool, collected. I needed to play the game. I kept repeating this mantra as he opened the door.
Instead of taking my hand, he reached in and hooked me by my waist, pulling me to him. When I straightened, I felt the bulge in his jeans. He was getting turned on while he was kidnapping me. How screwed up was that? He looked down at me with predatory eyes and licked his lips. Then he smacked my ass. Hard. I winced, and he chuckled, finally stepping away so I had some space. Then he took me by the arm and led me towards a house, passing Daniel’s sports car as we went.
It definitely had grounds to claim mansion status. It was tan and white on the outside and tall enough to have at least four floors. There were large, white pillars in the front that lined the doorway and bear-shaped topiaries in white and tan pots on either side. The main doorway was huge—large enough to make even Ivar seem small. Someone could have flown a small plane through it if they wanted to. The doors were wooden and carved with tiny little details that, under normal circumstances, I would have begged to inspect, but I had more important things to focus on at the moment. As we approached, the doors seemed to open on their own, revealing an immaculate entryway complete with a grand staircase that split into two at the top, each branch heading to opposite sides of the house.
I had to practically run to keep up with Ivar’s long strides as he walked us through the doorway and up the stairs, taking the right split. I caught glimpses of portraits hanging on the wall, gold filigree wallpaper, stone vases on the floor holding large ferns, and people walking about. They ignored us, though, as Ivar continued on his way. Eventually, we stopped before a set of black doors that had gold designs painted on them. The gold was the only thing that went with the rest of the house. That and the size. All the doors we had passed in the hallway had been fairly normal-sized, maybe slightly bigger, but these doors ran the entire height of the hallway—from top to bottom. He reached out, grasped one of the golden doorknobs, and pulled.
Inside, was a large room with a giant bed. It had to be a California King. It sat on a black iron bed frame with gothic-looking twists and turns in the metal headboard. It too was adorned with golden embellishments to match the theme. Everything in the room had a black-and-gold gothic touch—right down to the black candlesticks on the bedside table holding gold candles.
He walked us in and shut the door behind us, letting go of my arm. I rubbed the skin where he had held me while I looked around the room for an escape. The only thing I could spot was a balcony, which was slightly hidden behind glass French doors and masked by sheer black curtains. I doubted that would help me very much. We were at least on the second floor, which meant I would have to jump and might easily break a leg, or worse.
Ivar busied himself with a trunk he had pulled out from under the bed. I watched him wearily. He moved some things around inside the trunk then pulled out a bundle of black rope. He closed it, kicked it back under the bed, then came toward me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, eyeing the rope.
“I am tying you up and taking your picture. I’m sure your husband will be very happy to see you are okay,” Ivar said. “Turn around.”
I hesitated but did as I was told. He put my arms together behind my back and tied them, wrapping them at least three times before tying the knots. I waited, my whole body moving as he pulled the knots tight. When he was done, he turned me around and looked right at my chest, pushed out as it was. He licked his lips then took my arm and helped me up and onto the bed, positioning me sitting with my back against the ornate, metal headboard. The headboard was cold and sharp, making me wish for actual clothing again.
When Ivar was finished tying me to the headboard, he stepped back, admiring his work. He reached down with his large hand and readjusted the bulge in the front of his pants.
