The Mafia Contract Series

Charlotte

How has this happened? One minute I’m daydreaming my day away and the next I’m in the middle of a Netflix movie. I should be frightened, tearful and pleading for my life, but I’m shocked to discover I’m merely intrigued. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. Men like him don’t happen to girls like me and when the hood was ripped from my head, my first reaction was stunned surprise.

Throughout the car journey, I imagined a very different captor. His voice alone alerted me to a strange accent. American laced with one I couldn’t place. I never imagined he would be so young. He can’t be far from my own age and, quite frankly, he took my breath away.

Close cropped hair and rough stubble grazing his chin. Dressed in combats and a khaki t-shirt that made him look more like a soldier than anything else. The intricate ink on his forearms appeared to trail underneath his t-shirt and the muscles that it clings to made me experience something I never have before. Interest.

The person facing me wasn’t a boy, he was all man who intrigued me more than anything and made me forget to be afraid. For some reason, I was caught up in the drama and even being tied and handcuffed to a chair doesn’t scare me as much as it should. Perhaps I’m delusional and don’t understand how serious this situation is.

Remove me from life he said, well, I couldn’t have asked for more if I had my own wish. I want removing from my life. It bores me to tears anyway and my heart hasn’t stopped thumping since the moment I got the text.

The trouble is this guy rubs me up the wrong way. He’s so dismissive, curt, and crude and I can tell he doesn’t think much of me from that heiress comment. The fact he’s right has nothing to do with it and I wonder about him. Looking back on the helicopters and the men in black suits, it tells me I was right when the word mafia entered my head. He is one of them. It’s obvious and yet I’m still not scared. I’ve been kidnapped for ransom and now I know they need me alive for that I can rest a little easier. I must be having a dark dream because why am I not scared shitless? What’s happening to me?

The shiver of excitement that’s building is telling me I’m not all mentally there. Things like this shouldn’t excite me. I should be cowering in fright and begging for my life, but I’m more intrigued than anything. Then there’s him. The brutal Russian/ American, who knows what, is attracting me way more than I care to admit.

My heart jumps when he returns holding a bottle of whiskey that he is draining at the source causing me to sneer, “Don’t you have glasses in Russia?”

I can’t stop baiting him and he shrugs before dropping into the seat opposite and taking a swig, maintaining eye contact with me the whole time.

Setting it down, he smirks. “Want some.”Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

He laughs out loud, probably due to the horror that must show on my face, and as he leans closer, the stench of whiskey hits me, causing me to recoil slightly.

“What’s the matter princess? Whiskey too hard for you. I’ve got Champagne if you prefer, Prosecco maybe, or perhaps some coke, in a line or a glass. Both can be arranged.”

I shrug and say primly, “Water will be fine.”

“What if I don’t have water?”

“Then you’d be lying.”

I won’t back down and play the victim, and he stares at me long and hard for a moment and then nods. “Water it is.”

As I experience a strange sense of victory, I congratulate myself on this small win and feel quite smug as he heads off and returns with a bottle of water.

“What, no glass?” I tilt my head with a challenge in my eye and then, to my horror, he reaches down and grabs my ponytail, and tilting my head back with his face inches from mine, he says gruffly, “Open your mouth.”

“But…” “I said open your mouth, princess.”

He thrusts the plastic bottle between my lips and tilts it, so the water pours down my throat, causing me to choke a little. As I cough, the water drips from my mouth and as his hold tightens, it causes the tears to spill from my eyes.

“You’re hurting me.” I gasp and he says roughly, “I know.”

Once again, he tips the liquid, and it fills my mouth, causing me to gulp quickly before I choke even more.

Then, without warning, he pulls the bottle away and, with his lips close to mine, whispers, “I control you, Princess. You cut the smart-ass remarks, do as I say and don’t believe your opinion counts. There are no free rides when I’m around and if you think you have the right to talk down to me, your stay will be an extremely unpleasant one. So can the attitude, shut the fuck up and talk to me with respect because the minute you do none of those things, I will spank your ass so hard you won’t stop experiencing the burn for weeks. Do I make myself clear?”

I nod and he tightens his hold on my ponytail and pulls my head back, growling, “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, perfectly clear.”

He drops me like a hot poker and pushes me back roughly in my seat and then storms off down the plane to what I can only imagine is another cabin behind us, leaving me reeling.

That was so intense. I really thought he was going to hurt me, and he did, in a way. My pride has certainly taken a battering and it may take some time to get my breath back, but the point hit home. I’m a prisoner and regardless of my stupid, immature behavior, I am in a very dangerous situation indeed and should remember that.

Thankfully, he leaves me alone, and it gives me time to reassess my situation. I wonder if my parents have discovered I’m missing. The fact he texted me from my mother’s phone is still disturbing me. Did they tie her up somewhere, and she’s still missing too? Is she ok and what about my father?

Does he know about this and if he does, what will he do?

I’m guessing he’ll raise the money, not that I’m deluded enough to think it’s about me. No, Lord Richmond lives a life of smoke and mirrors and hides behind them most of the time. The dashing, entitled lord in public and obviously a debauched lecherous lothario in private.

I wonder if my mother knows about his double life. I’m not even sure she does because they always put on a united front of appearing so happy. Surely this guy has it wrong. They must be thinking of another man entirely and got their names mixed up.

My head hurts so much with trying to figure it out and as the lights in the cabin dim and the day turns to darkness, somehow, I fall into a troubled sleep.