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“Piero, my friend.” I speak into my phone, knowing he won’t greet me when I call.
“Can you send a team to the island to set up the cellar? I’m on my way to you so we can plan the best way to take her. I’d like to handle this all by the end of the day. We will be staying on the island to ensure privacy and our safety as we navigate through the worst of our reunion. She won’t like what is about to happen and we need every precaution in place so she can’t run before I make her see what’s meant to be. I won’t tolerate disobedience in this situation.”
“And you think imprisoning her in the cellar is the best choice?” He grumbles, clearly upset that this is all happening. He’s never truly liked Quinn. He sees her as my one and only weakness. He’s not wrong, but he foresees her being the administration's ultimate downfall.
“For the time being. Yes. There needs to be a punishment before she can enjoy the comforts of the estate. Her choices as of late have been borderline scandalous and to be honest, I may need to break her before we can begin building our life together. Though I’ll marry her by force if necessary at this point. Also, make sure the bare minimum staff is on at the estate. I will be taking care of her myself. We will need guards stationed of course, but otherwise let’s keep things as secretive as possible for now,” I say, knowing it will get back to my grandfather. He’ll assume there’s a violent undertone in my meaning. He’s nothing if not ruthless. Had it not been for my mamma’s presence in my life, I’d likely be the same way. As far as the world and my nonno know, I am.
“Fatto, non sarà un problema.” He lets me know that it will be handled without any problem.
“Grazie, see you soon.” I say, before hanging up and driving in peaceful silence. Everything is finally coming back together and life will be good again. At least after dealing with Quinn’s wrath. That’ll be the hard part.
* * *
Makingmy way down the back alley behind the restaurant part of the hotel Quinn is staying at, I adjust my mask so that none of my face is showing. I’m covered head to toe in black to blend into the shadows. This hotel is owned by my family, as is about seventy nine percent of Chicago; the rest mostly is bought and paid for when necessary for business. The cameras are all being manipulated by my IT team and none of the staff will pay me any mind as I sneak around. Most of them are on my payroll, but as seen at the time of Lauren’s death, not all of them. I’ll still err on the side of caution in case a guest of the hotel sees me and starts feeling chatty with the police. I’d rather this go smoothly, even if I have to look the part of a robber to do so. I’m completely unidentifiable right now and that’s how it’ll stay.
“She’s in her room now. We placed her on the first floor for easy access. She’s in the Princess Suite.” My security detail tells me in my earpiece.
Of course they put her in the Princess Suite - how fitting. The hotel itself is a bit ostentatious, yet with that comes the comfort of having a suite for each floor. The building isn’t meant to only have the one penthouse suite for the wealthy. It gives multiple choices to display your wealth when choosing a location to stay for business or pleasure.
I make my way toward her room and produce my master key card from my pocket. Using it to gain access to her room, I watch the red light turn green and open the door to the entryway into her suite. I watch for movement as I walk into the open space of her lounge area and when I see none, I realize that she must be in the bedroom. I know that Matteo was in here setting up security cameras not that long ago, so I need to be fast.
Pulling the needle from my pocket and uncapping it, I make my way to her bedroom door, silently twisting the knob. I finally see my dark haired beauty just as she’s hanging up her cell phone. She must have checked in with Alessandro and Cecelia if I had to guess. She pockets her phone and stares out her window contemplatively not realizing I’m behind her until she sees my reflection in the window. She tries to turn and face me, gasping when I grab her by her midsection and hold down her arms. Being as careful as I can, I place the needle into her neck, allowing the drugs to take effect. Almost immediately, she becomes dead weight in my arms and I place a dark covering over her face in case we’re seen leaving. I shift her into a fireman carry and with lightning speed, move out of the building.
Right when I get to the SUV, Matteo bursts out of the building, rage consuming him, but he’s too late. We’re already making our way down the road and soon we’ll be lost on the island. There will be no way to track her. She’s finally mine again and now that she’s in my arms, I may never let her go.
Chapter Four
Alessandra
Drip… Drip... Drip…
I watcheach droplet of water slowly leak from one of the cracks in the ceiling next to my bed. It’s damp and musty in here - cold too. I have a small piece of thin fabric that I’ve been using as a blanket when it gets too bad. I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been locked away in this cellar, but it has to be around two weeks or so, maybe longer. It’s hard to tell when there’s only a tiny window in the heavy wooden door that lets a small sliver of light in. I can hear a brutal storm raising hell outside the stone walls, the rain and thunder echoing throughout the frigid, empty space. It’s been going on for several days now, like the weather is somehow in tune with my fucked up mood. I’ve been struggling to eat. I’m too fucking mad and if it were possible to wear out cement, I’d have done it already with all the pacing I’ve done in this shithole.
I don’t know where the hell I am but I can tell we’re somewhere near a coastline. If I had to guess based on my last known location, I’d say somewhere along the East coast but who knows how many days I was drugged and unconscious before I ended up here. The air smells vaguely of saltwater and seaweed, but also of dampness and whatever mold lives down here. So far, the only person that I’ve seen is a large man that brings me the bare necessities for survival.
In a way, he’s been taking care of me, if you can call it that. He feeds me, sure. He also ignores the fuck out of me. He stays long enough to listen when I talk to him, but never responds. It’s like he’s content to listen to me ramble on, even though I don’t often have anything nice to say. I can only imagine he’s heard worse.
He’s tall and broad - muscular too. He’s always got on a tight black shirt that stretches along the large span of his chest; his arms decorated in mesmerizing black ink down to his wrists but he never gets close enough that I can see the intricate designs. He wears black cargo pants and black combat boots. He even has a black mask covering his face and neck. His build rivals that of my guys.
My guys…
Just thinkingabout them makes me feel a pain so intense, I might as well have cut the limbs from my body. It feels as though my heart has been torn from my body and left for me to watch the blood seep from the wounded organ, as I watch it slowly stop beating.
My three beautifully damaged boys turned into men too soon. It’s unfair that each of us have had to grow up before our time. I’m finding myself more and more resentful of that as I’m stuck here, left to think of little else. We all should be living it up as teenagers, causing shenanigans and making mistakes, but that’s never been any of our lives. We’re all basically adults living in teenagers’ bodies, forced to learn and adapt to our lifestyle. It’ll never be fair for us; our world is too dark and dangerous.
Fuck, I miss them. My thoughts of them are basically the only thing that keep me from giving up down here. I miss Matteo and his brooding stare, trademark scowl, and deep grumbling voice. I miss Noah’s silly antics, sex crazed libido, and hidden depths. I miss Cohen and his quiet strength, creative genius, and intuitive soul. I missthemand I know they miss me. I swear, I can practically feel them mourning my loss. They are as much a part of me as this useless heart of mine.
It was stupid of me not to include them on my trip. I know this. I should’ve just trusted them with my secrets and worked out a plan with them. My need to protect them outweighed my sense of self preservation, so I can’t say that I regret that part at all. Iamstarting to regret not allowing them the option to choose whether it was worth the risk to them. If I had, maybe this could’ve all been avoided. Fuck, maybe we’d still be together right now. I know they must be furious with me. I’m pissed at myself for them. How selfish am I though thattheseare my thoughts? They are safe from whatever this shit is. For that, I can’t be anything other than proud of my decision, even if it hurts like a bitch.
Reaching up, I rub at my chest, wishing like hell I still had my heart necklace, the one that I had made to match the guys’ watches I got them on Valentine’s Day. At some point, I’d been stripped down and put into a silk nightgown set. It’s completely contradictory to this shitty place I’ve been stuck in. Why give me fine silks to sleep in if I’m supposed to sleep in a dank, moldy cellar on a sheet less mattress?
I can’t decide if I have a legitimate escape plan yet. Every single day, when the masked man brings me food, I attempt to talk to him and he gives me nothing in return. I’ve tried everything from yelling at him and cursing him out to attempting to bribe him for information. The guy talks about as much as the stone walls surrounding me. The food here is decent though, whereverhereis. Aside from that, I have a dingy twin sized mattress on an old wrought iron bed frame and a small table with a battery operated lantern, an itchy piece of fabric for a blanket, and a literal pot to piss in.
I’ve not been given another set of clothes so this thin silk is getting pretty grimy. It’s nasty. No showers means I smell like a dirty asshole. My hair is knotted and oily. Ugh, I can’t eventhinkabout my teeth without gagging. Even at the shittiest of times growing up on the streets of Chicago, I’ve never felt so physically dirty.
Hearing the door open, I roll over on the mattress, away from the stone wall and toward the man in the mask.
“Hmm… It’s you again. Any chance you’ll talk to me today?” I ask, knowing I’ll get nothing in response. I don’t even care - if he’s my only option, I’ll have a conversation with him anyway.
