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I looked out the window and realized we were on the highway. Panic surged, and I turned to the driver. "Excuse me, this isn't the way to the bus stop. Where are you going?"
The driver remained silent, unmoved by my question. My heart pounded, the unease growing. "Hey, this is not the way to the bus stop. Where are you taking me?"
But he drove on as if he couldn't hear me. Anxiety knotted my stomach. What was going on?
I fumbled for my phone, intent on calling the police. But before my trembling fingers could dial the emergency number, the driver calmly pressed a button near the radio, and my phone abruptly powered down. It was as if he had some control over it.
My breath caught, and I felt an icy stab of fear. What the hell was happening?
"What did you do?" I demanded, my voice shaking with both anger and fear. "Why did you turn off my phone?"
He stayed silent, and his eyes focused on the road ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was apologetic, almost sympathetic. "I'm sorry. Please, try to stay calm."
Stay calm? How the fuck was I supposed to stay calm when I was being kidnapped? I wanted to scream. The doors were locked, and the windows looked impenetrable.
I was trapped.
My heart was racing, thudding against my chest like a panicked animal trying to escape.
"Let me go!" I yelled, my voice rising almost to a shriek. "Where are you taking me?"
Removing his sunglasses revealing a face that did not fit the current circumstance, he spoke almost apologetically, "I'm Enzo." I had an incredulous look on my face. Was that name supposed to mean something to me?
I looked at him more carefully. He was a handsome man with short black hair and warm, gray eyes. But I was fairly certain that I hadn’t met him before.
He cleared his throat, attempting a reassuring tone. "I'm a close friend of Emilio's, and I'm taking you to him."
Emilio!
Well, that name I knew, but why was Emilio orchestrating all this? Why this elaborate charade of a taxi ride? Why didn't he reach out directly? If he could send a taxi straight to my mother’s one town over from where we met, surely he could get his hands on my phone number?
I shook my head in disbelief. More and more questions kept piling up around this disconcerting man. I needed answers, and this Enzo guy apparently held the key to unlocking at least some of this unnerving mystery.
"Emilio?" I repeated, the name rolling off my tongue with a mix of apprehension and intrigue.
“Sì.(Yes.)” Enzo confirmed in a calm voice.
"And who are you to Emilio?" I pressed, my voice tinged with both frustration and genuine curiosity. "Why couldn't he just talk to me directly?"
Enzo offered a wry smile as if understanding my confusion and frustration. "Emilio believes you wouldn't listen to him if he approached you directly. This... unconventional approach was his idea."
I was torn between anger and a strange sense of curiosity. Emilio had gone to such lengths to speak to me? It was baffling and infuriating at the same time. My emotions were in a mess, and I didn't know what to make of it.
All I knew was that I needed answers, and I was about to get them, one way or another.
Chapter 13
Emilio
Mypenthousehadneverfelt so confining, so stifling before. I paced back and forth in the grand living room, my footsteps echoing off the sleek, polished marble floor. Nervous energy coursed through me, crackling like an electric current.
Enzo had delivered the message that he had Griselda with him. The thought sent a surge of anticipation through me, a flicker of relief that she was safe, but then quickly turned into dread.
How would she react? What would she say when she saw me? After all, this whole charade was my idea. I had no way of predicting how she'd take it. Would she be furious, feeling threatened and deceived? Would she succumb to fear once I revealed to her all of what was happening?
The clock on the wall seemed to be mocking me, its hands inching forward at an agonizingly slow pace. I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the locks in a futile attempt to calm my nerves.
I had rehearsed what I would say and how I would explain everything, but now that the moment was here, my carefully crafted words seemed to desert me.
