Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“Okay.” I offer him a weak smile.
“I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon,” he says. “Have a nice day, Mrs. Vitale.”
35
ABELLA
Angelo doesn’t return that night, and by the third day, I’m irritable and on edge. Much to Nonna’s dismay, I turned down two additional meals in that span of time, and only then did I receive a text from Angelo.
Eat.
One word. No other explanations. That’s all I get.
I ignore it and try to focus on work, which is usually my escape, but even that doesn’t seem to be helping right now.
By the time I’m ready to leave the office on Wednesday evening, I feel completely checked out. But when I step out into the hall, an unfamiliar guard greets me. I try to recall if he was one of those ten guards I met the night we boarded the yacht, but I can’t remember.
“Mrs. Vitale.” He nods at me. “Ready to go?”
“Yes.” A flicker of uncertainty passes over me as I scan the hall. “Where are the rest of the guards?”
“Downstairs,” he says. “There’s been a minor security breach today, and we’ll be using the service entrance to leave.”
“Is everything okay?” I follow him into the elevator.
“Of course,” he assures me. “Nothing to be concerned about. It’s standard protocol to change our routine in events like these.”
“Where’s Nicky?” I ask.
“He’s dealing with the breach himself,” the guard explains. “I’m Max. You met me briefly before your honeymoon.”
“Right.” I force a smile.
When the elevator arrives on the ground floor, Max escorts me to the service entrance. Four of my usual guards are already outside, and I breathe a little easier when I see their faces. One of them opens the door to the car for me.
Before I even make it there, I hear the sound of screeching tires and turn just in time to see a van pulling up. It happens too fast for me to grasp—one second, I’m beside Max, and the next, four men in black tactical gear and balaclavas surround me.
Someone yanks me back and drags me toward the van. I try to fight, and I think I manage to scream, but it’s a wasted effort. A moment later, I’m facedown on the floor of the stripped-out van.
My wrists and ankles are restrained with leather cuffs and linked together before someone slips a blindfold over my eyes. When they stuff what feels like a rubber gag into my mouth and strap it around my head, fear grabs me by the throat.
I can’t move or speak. All I can do is lie there and wait for whatever comes next. The men don’t talk or make any noise at all. It only amplifies my anxiety.
This can’t be happening.
How long will it take for Angelo to realize I’m gone?
I think about the guards we left behind and wonder why they didn’t help me. For a while, I struggle against the restraints, but I get nowhere. All I’ve managed to do is exhaust myself. I haven’t been eating or sleeping well, and now I’m paying the consequences.
After what feels like the longest ride of my life, the van pulls to a stop. I hear the back doors open, and there’s some shuffling before one of the men picks me up. He bands an arm around my torso and pins me to his chest, leaving my feet to dangle as he carries me like a ragdoll.
He jumps from the van, the movement jarring, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. When his boots slap against the floor, they echo around us, indicating we must be in some kind of cavernous space. My first thoughts are a warehouse or parking garage.
I decide it’s best to preserve what little energy I have rather than fight him now. There are any number of reasons I might be abducted, and until I know what they want, I need to stay as calm as I can.
A door opens, and I hear a woman’s low voice as the man carrying me pauses briefly before continuing. The scent of vanilla perfumes the air, and as we move further into the unknown space, I start to hear other things.
Things like…moaning. Flirtatious laughter. Soft music. The low chatter of multiple conversations. Wherever we are, there are a lot of people.
I try to speak around the gag in my mouth, but all that comes out are indecipherable noises, and even then, nobody seems to notice or care.
After a long walk, I hear another door opening, and we turn, entering what must be a different room. The door shuts behind us, effectively silencing all the other noise.
This room is painfully quiet, and from what I can tell, it’s just me and the man carrying me now. His footsteps are the only ones I hear as he lays me facedown over what feels like a bolstered cushion on an elevated platform. He pulls me back, readjusting me so my torso lays flat over the cushion and my bended knees rest on the platform below.