Page 5 of Stolen By the Enemy

Okay, so Marco is the reason I’m here, and I definitely did not come willingly. At least I know this.

What I don’t know is where “here” actually is.

Where is this plane taking me?

Luca is going to kill me, and Enzo is going to be so disappointed. That is, if Marco doesn’t have me killed himself.

What does he want with me? If it was sex, he probably could have had loads of that if we had just stayed in my room. Did he worry that my brothers would intervene?

Does he have some weird rule about only fucking girls on his home turf in Mexico?

It makes sense that Mexico is where we’re going, although it’s not like my brothers don’t know where to find Carlos.

He’s connected to Marco. I think Marco told me that he and Carlos are cousins. Or was it brothers?

I groan again.

None of this actually matters at this moment, because here I am in a plane, trapped with a member of the Mexican cartel, and flying away from my family, my home, and my safety.

All because I drank too much and couldn’t resist the dark and delicious Marco Rodriguez.

Truthfully, I suppose this started when I flew to Mexico a couple of weeks ago, in an attempt to save my family from a cartel catastrophe.

Since we thought my brother and Emelia were pretending to be a couple, and we knew that Carlos would not take kindly to being lied to, Enzo and I felt it best to get ahead of the situation.

So, I took a trip to Mexico, alone except for a mousy bodyguard that Enzo had insisted I take with me.

He barely spoke, stared at me the whole flight, and stayed on the plane while I got off to be greeted by the big boss’ right-hand man— Marco.

Since the rest of the cartel was out at a function, it was Marco’s job to keep me entertained until they were ready to see me.

He showed me some of Mexico and took me out for dinner. Over our meal, we just sat and talked about our lives, our families, and everything in between.

I didn’t tell him about Luca and Emelia, though. And it was a damn good thing because, in the meantime, Luca called Carlos with an invite to his and Emelia’s shotgun wedding that I had no idea about.

I found out about my brother marrying my best friend through Carlos. That’s when I knew I couldn’t complete the job because then I would look like a liar.

There was instant chemistry with Marco, but I got him to take me back to the plane and my useless bodyguard, and I left without thinking I would ever see him again.

We hadn’t even kissed in Mexico. We had just flirted like crazy.

He was so fun to be around and enjoyed a good laugh. Catching his eye at the wedding had sent my drunk and horny hormones into a frenzy.

Rubbing my temples again, I try to stand up, but my legs are literally tied to the table in front of me. I can see I’m actually on a couch.

It’s a comfy couch at least. I look around the inside of the plane.

There’s a door ahead of me, which I assume is the cockpit, and then a bathroom door to the right.

I hear a toilet flush and the bathroom door opens, Marco’s tall, broad figure appearing in front of me with his dark hair still somehow perfectly slicked back.

He looks shocked to see me awake, and I instantly think that maybe I can use that shock to get to him while his defenses are down.

“Marco… please, take me back home.” He doesn’t respond to me, but I can see he’s trying to figure out what to do with me.

“I’m more than willing to please you. We don’t have to go all the way to Mexico to do it.” I attempt a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood and get him to respond to me.

He sits down on the couch opposite me without speaking, but I do see him fighting a smile behind his smoky gray eyes.

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