Page 111 of Maddest Temptation

Donato remained silent as two other men walked into the room. Both large and stocky, with hairy arms and thick bushy brows. They looked feral, like grizzly bears. The tallest between them looked older, his hair peppered with white. While the youngest wore a matching Adidas hoodie and pants and stared at me like I was his next victim.

Through my fear-induced haze, it hit me; I’d seen them before in the pictures my brother had shown me. The hairs at the back of my neck stood up, and my chest grew heavy as pressure increased within. They were Russian. Not just any Russians, but one of them—I judged the eldest—was Grigori. Cassio’s enemy.

“Is this her?” the youngest asked, his accent thick.

“You have my daughter, Grigori, my end of the bargain has been met.”

Grigori came to stand before me and the younger version of him came, too. He made to touch me, but I looked away.

He laughed. “Fierce.” His grimy, meaty hand landed on my cheek and as he caressed me, bile rose to my throat, and I forced it down. “I’ll take her.”

What?

“Of course, you will, we had a deal,” Donato said.

“She could be ugly,” the youngest said. “Bad teeth and small tits.”

“Does it really matter?” Donato asked.

The man shrugged and looked at Grigori. He exchanged a few words with him, and he nodded.

“My son will marry her,” Grigori said, and it hit me now.

I began to tremble. Hard. “P-papa.” I hated that word but maybe, just maybe I could make him change his mind. “Per favore,” I begged.

“Shut up, Francesca,” he snapped.

“Please,” I begged again. I knew he was going to marry me off; I just never expected it would be to a Russian. But he’d said it, hadn’t he. I would marry a Boss’ son. Grigori’s son.

“I won’t marry you.” I glared at Grigori’s son. “I won’t go willingly.”

It was the wrong thing to do, to grab his attention. He walked back toward me and grabbed my face with his meaty hands. “Oh, you will.” His yellowish teeth flashed. “You will be mine, little bird. I will break your wings if I must.”

His grip hurt and I whimpered, but he didn’t let go, not until tears trailed down my cheeks. “You will have to kill me,” I said because there was no way I would marry the enemy. No way I would do this to Cassio?—

Cassio, of course. That was it. I looked into the man’s dirty brown eyes and smiled through the fear and the pain. “Cassio will kill you.”

The man threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t see him here, little bird.”

“He will come,” I said with all the faith in the world. He must know about what happened by now. Someone must have warned him.

Giorgi’s son leaned in close, enough that I could smell his putrid breath. “Oh, I am counting on it.” He grinned and pulled on my bottom lip. “It will be so fun breaking you,” he mused in excitement.

He stood, took his phone out of his pants, and snapped a photo of me. “W-what are y-you doing?”

“Making sure your beloved comes to rescue you.”

Oh God. No.

And that’s when I realized this was all a trap. Not only for me, but for Cassio as well. So, I prayed with every fiber in my body that he wouldn’t come. That he refused to rescue me.

“Why?” I looked at my father. “You owe me at least that much,” I pleaded.

He made his way toward me, took a cigar from his breast pocket and watched it with interest, not giving me his full attention, he spoke. “It’s not personal, Francesca.”

Well, it felt like it was.

Still, I kept my mouth shut because I needed to know, it wouldn’t change a thing. It was not like I could escape, I wasn’t stupid, but I needed the truth.

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