Page 7 of Stolen Bride for the Don

“Oh great, thank fuck you left a note.” His voice drips with sarcasm. “Of course, they’re just going to believe a random note they see in their missing daughter’s apartment.”

I glare at him. “Andrea was kind enough to tell her father she wants to go on a trip tomorrow. I simply left a note, corroborating what she said.”

“How do you even know that?” He takes a deep breath and utters, “You know what? Don’t answer that. Are they just going to take the note at face value?”

“For a week or two, yes.” My gaze slides back to the monitor. I frown when I don’t see Andrea and zoom in the camera from different angles; but she’s not in the room. Just as I go to call Eli, I see that the bathroom door is slightly ajar. Damn it, I should have installed a camera in there as well.

“And after that?” Crew persists. He’s still here?

“After that, what?” I ask impatiently. “What are you getting at?”

“We can’t go to war with the Beauforts, Hudson. Not right now when we have the capos breathing down our neck and the Rossi’s hovering around like a bad rash.”

The capos, as in my captains scattered all over the island, busy overseeing the smaller details that I can’t. They’ve been nagging me to take a wife and produce an heir with sufficient alacrity. “I know. That’s why I’m making the Beauforts our ally.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “Oh, this should be good.”

“I’m going to marry Andrea. What better way to secure an alliance and get the capos off our backs?”

Crew inhales sharply and stammers, “You’re crazy if you think she’s going to want to marry you after this stunt you just pulled.”

I shrug his words away, turning my attention back to Andrea. He might be right, but I am a very persuasive man. I don’t think she even knows what she wants. Not yet anyway.

CHAPTER 6

ANDREA

I glance around the large bedroom that the hulky man, Eli, brought me to on Hudson’s command. He looked mean as hell with his knife holster filled with three wicked blades. I might have pilfered one; so I was a little surprised when he whispered not to make Massimo angry if I know what’s good for me. Massimo? Did he mean Hudson?

I obviously don’t know the guy, or what he does, but he’s obviously not on the straight and narrow. Nobody working a blue collar job would just up and kidnap a strange woman and need fifty-five men guarding his premises. He clearly has money, and plenty of it. Maybe even more than my family. This house–mansion–is huge. I have to give kudos to whomever was in charge of the interior decor because despite how big it is, it’s not overly pretentious. It exudes class and a certain level of unattainable wealth; yet it has a comfortable, homey vibe. That must have taken a lot of work and, ironically, money.

I glance around the room, ignoring the oversized bed with black, silk sheets. Across the room is a monstrous fireplace with an equally large armchair that looks inviting; an expansive ottoman faces the mantle. On either side of the fireplace are built–in bookshelves filled to the brim with tomes of every genre. At least I won’t be bored in my cage.

There’s a shocking number of mirrors around the room, which I chock up to Hudson/Massimo being very self-absorbed. One look is proof that the man takes his appearance very seriously; now that I think about it, his suits do fit him annoyingly well.

I glance at the door and walk slowly to it. I know it won’t open; I had heard the click of a deadbolt after Eli closed it. But I put my hand on the handle and try anyway. It doesn’t budge. Okay. Don’t panic. There has to be another way out.

I scan the room again. Two single doors are side by side adjacent to the bed. I hurry toward them, pressing down on the handle of the first. The bright lights streaming from the bedroom spill inside enough to let me see that I’m staring into a walk-in closet filled with rows and rows of male clothing.

Did that bastard have me brought to his bedroom? There is a masculine air about this room, not to mention the distinct scent of musky cologne making it obvious that the room has been recently used. I inhale deeply, trying not to think about what it could mean, but my heart is pounding as I close the closet door and open the second door. An obscenely large bathroom appears. A bit much for one person, no?

The bathroom is almost the size of my entire bedroom back home, which isn’t small by any means. It’s decorated in the same monochromatic black and white shades as the entire mansion. There must be a motion sensor by the doorway because soft lighting fills the space as I walk in and bounces off the luxurious finishes.

A large bathtub–that I’m sure could comfortably fit about four people–is in the center. Across from the tub is a double sink with a large, rectangular mirror above it. Matte black hardware gives the room a distinctly harsh finish, but it contrasts with a sinfully plush rug underfoot. One glance at my toes sinking into the carpet reminds me of the filth coating my entire body after my escape attempt into the woods.

In the corner of the room is an enticingly large shower surrounded by opaque frosted glass. I open the door and poke my head inside. Black shower heads are scattered everywhere to ensure every crevice of the body gets hosed down. Tempting. But there’s no way I’m getting naked in this monster’s room. Fuck no.

I close the glass door and make my way to the vanity. Some of the light filling the room seems to be coming from behind the mirror, making the frame look like it’s floating off the wall. My reflection stares back at me as I stop in front of the sink.

My hair is escaping from the updo I had done for the ceremony, which is shocking considering the number of pins the stylist had used to secure it. There are a few dry leaves still clinging to my head that I pluck out; but otherwise, I look put-together enough. My blue dress has dark, ominous stains I’m hesitant to touch, but who do I have to impress here anyway. No. Fucking. One. That’s for sure.

I glance away from my reflection to open the cabinets under the sink. The first is filled with neatly-folded towels. I close it and open the next. I come across a bottle of mouthwash, several unopened toothbrushes, a tube of toothpaste, an unopened box of condoms…I slam the door shut at that discovery.

I make my way to the toilet where I relieve my bladder, then walk back to the sink to wash my hands. Afterward, I cautiously walk back into the bedroom. I glance around again, trying to find an open window, something I can…I gasp softly. Straight across from where I’m standing is a pair of wide French doors. How did I not notice them earlier?

I hurry to them and see a balcony on the other side…a balcony far above the ground, but there has to be a garden below it, a bush, or something I can land on safely if I decide to jump.

I hold my breath as I try to open the door. “Fuck.” I wiggle the handle fruitlessly; it’s obviously locked. A frustrated growl escapes my throat. I should’ve learned how to pick a lock from Ezra, but I genuinely never thought I would need it! I’m a shameless snoop, but my family indulges me and leaves their rooms unlocked. They know I’ll find a way in regardless; I need to implement that same level of determination here. Just pretend there is a deliciously juicy secret on the other side of these doors, one that I will only discover if I can break through them…and not the fifty-five trained men who are willing to take me down if they spot any sign of an attempted escape. I am no damsel; I will not sit around and wait for rescue, dammit.

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