Page 3 of Stolen By the Enemy

As the kiss gets more heated, I hear a small but deep moan come from Grazia’s throat.

I pull away before the testosterone takes over and gets in the way of my plan.

“Let’s take this somewhere more private,” I whisper to her. She nods and takes my hand again, leading me inside now and up the stairs.

The house is exactly what I would have expected from the Baldinis. It stinks like wasted money and is covered in too much expensive-looking décor that does nothing useful.

Grazia holds onto my hand as we walk up the stairs and I know she’s taking me to her bedroom.

The thought of her in her bed makes me even more horny than that moan during our kiss.

I need to just stay focused on my plan, I remind myself. I know that I’ll get a lot more than just some good sex from her.

Money can buy me as much sex as I want to have. I don’t need Grazia for that.

We walk into Grazia’s room, and she does a twirl and says something I can’t quite make out.

Then she freezes in front of me and starts to slowly unzip her dress. Fuck. Again, I have to fight my urges, and I’m getting tired of it.

If I thought there was enough time to fuck her before anyone found us, I’d happily take everything she’s offering right now.

But this is about money and power, and I can’t let some virginal-looking girl distract me.

I reach my right hand down to my belt and pull slowly, revealing my gun and grabbing Grazia at the same time, stopping her from running or screaming.

“Pack a bag. You’re coming with me,” I say.

“What the fuck?” Grazia suddenly seems a lot more sober.

I hear voices coming down the hall and grab her mouth, covering it until I hear the women in the hall close themselves into the bathroom.

Moving to close Grazia’s door, I repeat, “Pack a bag with essentials. And hurry the fuck up.”

She does as I tell her, not crying or arguing like I’d have expected.

She’s tougher than she looks.

I grab a notepad and rip out a piece of red paper. I can’t find a pen, but I grab a tube of eyeliner. That will do.

I write a quick note, because this plan won’t work unless the Baldinis know that their sister is with a ruthless killer who will murder her unless they follow my instructions.

With her bag packed, I take the lead as I take her down the stairs.

I’ve already mapped out an exit strategy. I find the back door we used when we went up to Grazia’s room.

She’s not fighting me, but I keep my gun jabbed into her ribs, just in case.

As we leave the house, she whimpers slightly. I ignore her and put her into the passenger side of my rented Jeep.

“Where are you taking me?” Grazia asks, her voice steady, but her eyes tell me she’s terrified.

“Don’t worry,” I say, turning the car on and driving out of the driveway.

Grazia stares out of the window for a while, but it’s only a few minutes into the drive before I see that she’s let her eyes close.

Hopefully, she has enough alcohol in her system to stay passed out until we’re on the plane at least.

I call my connection at the airstrip and order an urgent flight back to Mexico, telling him to charge it to my cousin. There’s no issue there. They know who we are already, and they know better than to ask silly questions.

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