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I shift a lock of hair back off her temple and stroke my fingertip down her cheek to her jawline.
“But first, I show you off to our guests. Mafia royalty are here today, and you are now a queen among them. Just be warned, whether or not you like that fact, you will act as if you do, or suffer the consequences.”
15
“We are not trapped by our thoughts. What we generally do, however, is create thoughts that trap us.”
Joshua David Stone
Bianca
I keep tellingmyself I’m cooperating with my kidnapper because that will give me the best opportunity to escape.
In this world, cooperation equals freedom, and I stand here on Rio’s luxury cruiser on the river, doing my best to behave as he wishes. But I’ve had a lot of alone time lately with nothing to do but think—and overthink—everything. And there’s more to my motives than a simple desire to gain my freedom from Rio Agosti.
As much as I hate who he is and what he stands for… As much as I want to get away and see him punished for what he did to me and to my friends…my damn traitorous body makes a mockery of my vengeful thoughts.
My body desires him with an intensity I never expected or thought possible, and that muddies the waters when it comes to making decisions about how and when to make a run for it.
I stare around the cruiser, filled with beautiful women and powerful men, lift my champagne goblet to my lips, and sip slowly. The French bubbly is expensive—the best money can buy, as is everything else on this boat—and the food being handed around by impeccably dressed waitstaff has been designed to tempt even the fussiest eater.
Not that I can eat anything. Not when my stomach is tied up in knots, and the acid churns so fiercely it feels like a hole is burning right through my insides.
The sun is warm on my shoulders and back, the afternoon shaping up to be one of the warmest of the season so far, and the buzz of conversation around me is full of happiness and satisfaction.
This is my post-wedding day lunch.I’msupposed to be happy too. In the real world, back where I came from only a short time ago, I would have been ecstatic if I had just gotten married and was hosting an afternoon party on the river in such a picturesque location.
Inthisworld—the world of cartels and crime lords—happiness seems like a pipe dream.
I turn away from the crowd and stare down at the brown river water gently lapping at the cruiser’s sides, contemplating the chances of survival were I to simply jump over the side and sink beneath the murky depths.
I was good at swimming at school. I can hold my breath longer than the average person. If the water is deep enough to hold this large boat and the several others currently berthing at Rio’s riverfront property, then surely it would be deep enough that I could be carried unseen beneath the surface by the currents that eddy and swirl around us?
Where is Rio right now? And Francesca, and Nicky, and all the security people who’ve been keeping watch? I glance over my shoulder, and no one seems to be looking at me.
I could do it. I could slip over the side and be gone before they even know what happened. Would they shoot at the water if I did? Would it matter?
I am as good as dead anyway if I stay here. I can’t see Rio wanting to keep me around for longer than it takes to show this cruel, glittering world that we are a couple. To demonstrate that he does, indeed, have control over the Carlotti fortune.
Once he’s finished showing me off, and the official paperwork is signed, he will have no further need of me. And at that time, I will be expendable. Collateral damage in a deal that will cement him as the most powerful man in this region.
The conviction coalesces in my mind, and I carefully place my champagne flute on the tray of a passing waiter. Then I grip the deck railing so tightly my knuckles turn white.
Deep breath, over the side, kick off the shoes, and swim with the current beneath the surface until I can no longer hold my breath. Resurface, breathe, and then do it again. And again. Until I am as far from Rio as I can get.
I can do this. Ican.
Then…why don’t I?
Why do I simply stand here, gripping the top of the barrier as if I’m frozen in place? Why do I not…move…
I stare down at the water for one minute. Two.
Until the moment for escape passes, and a deep voice in my ear says, “Another champagne, little bird?”
I don’t even look at him. I can’t. He will either be gloating with a self-satisfied smirk, or he will be angry with that ice-cold rage more terrifying than the hot anger most people display when they’re upset.
“Sure. Why not?” Why the ever-loving hell not? Perhaps I should get drunk.
