Page 41 of Stolen By the Enemy

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes distant, as if he is revisiting a painful past.

"I guess you probably do understand," he begins, his voice carrying the weight of memories.

"I was a lonely kid. I lost my parents early on, and no one was there to pick up the pieces. I had to learn to be tough, to make things happen on my own. My cousins…they taught me how to survive in this world. Trusting them was my way of creating a sense of belonging. But then Carlos... I trusted him, believed he had my back. But he screwed me over, Grazia. Family or not, he left me hanging when I needed him the most."

I reach out with my free hand and softly touch his arm.

He continues, "This deal with your family, it's my last chance to make a legacy, to start my own family business. It's not just about the money; it's about creating something that lasts, something I can pass down."

I can hear the pain in his voice and see the desperation so evident in his eyes.

"I need this deal to work, Grazia. It's my shot at a future and a chance to build something real.”

“I want that for you, too,” I say to him, my voice as genuine as it can be.

I mean what I’m saying. I don’t think my family will suffer much by giving the routes to Marco, and I can see that he needs this.

He looks at me and seems to decide that he believes what I’m saying.

He gets up and walks over to the dresser again, picking up the keys for the handcuffs to let me free.

I rub my wrist and massage the blood back into my arm.

“I guess it never occurred to me how much danger there is in trusting the women around you,” I say softly.

“What?” he says, sounding like he’s suddenly paying attention again.

I shrug. “We don’t really know what’s going on, but we are easy to use as pawns in the bigger games you are all playing. Loving someone must make you incredibly vulnerable in your line of work.”

He looks down at his hands. “You aren’t wrong about that.”

I sigh and lean back against the headboard.

I pull the covers up over my naked body. I wonder what my brothers think about that video Marco sent them with my tits on full display. I sigh.

“I always wanted to be loved,” I whisper, my voice breaking a little on the last word.

“Doesn’t your family love you?” he asks me. He sounds like he’s actually curious.

I smile a little, but the expression is more like a grimace. “My Nonna did,” I say.

“I’m sorry she passed away,” he says back to me. He sounds sincere, and I let a tear slide down my cheek.

So much for not crying again. I feel like my heart is full of wounds that just won’t heal.

“Dinner?” he asks, and I just nod.

There’s such a fine line of trust happening right now. I don’t want to disrupt it with my words.

I watch Marco leave the room, and look down at my naked body.

I hate being reduced to a sexy figure and a willing pussy.

I feel disgusted with everything about my current situation, but I’m also cautiously hopeful that Marco is coming around.

I slide out of bed, and find some clothes to put on. I shake my long hair back and lift it up into a dark brown messy bun on top of my head.

It smells like Marco’s aftershave, and I smile a little in spite of myself.

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