Page 7 of Stolen By the Enemy

I just want someone to notice me, even if it’s only to turn their anger on me.

Marco rises and comes to stare down at me. There’s an indecipherable look on his face.

I want him to actually feel something about me.

I want someone to notice that I am alive and that I matter.

“That is so. I suggest you get me off this plane and then run for your fucking life, Marco. And I say this for your own good, not mine. Because if my family gets a hold of you after this, death is going to seem like a welcome escape compared to what they’re going to do to you.”

“You seem to think I’m scared of your brothers, chica. They can do nothing to scare me.”

Something in his calm and confident voice throws me over the edge, and I scream at him.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done! You’re fucking with the wrong family! Even your cousin is going to come after you!”

A single tear betrays me, slipping down my cheek, and I look away to wipe it off.

Marco gives me a sad look, as if he pities me, and I feel sick to my stomach.

I am pathetic, and I know it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper, biting my lip. My stomach turns uncomfortably with a combination of shame and hangover symptoms.

Marco disappears behind a curtain at the back of the plane, leaving me, huffing from my outburst.

I lay back down and throw my arm over my eyes, breathing in and out deeply, trying to control the anxiety that is threatening to take over.

The light in the plane is so bright that my arm barely blocks it out, but I also desperately need to release a few more of these tears, and I don’t want Marco to see that.

I think about my brothers and their reactions to finding me gone. Then I think about how long it might actually take them to realize I’m no longer in the house.

There are so many people at the wedding that they might not realize tonight. And because I’ve been so pissed off, I’ve hardly spoken to anyone, so they might think I’m just keeping to myself.

Luca and I have barely spoken since the situation with Emelia, so I don’t think he’d find it odd if I wasn’t around for a bit.

And while Enzo might notice something’s off sooner, he’s got his whole family and his own house to worry about.

It could be days before they know I’m not there, and even longer before they know who has me.

Unless… I vaguely remember Marco writing a note before we left my room. So maybe his only goal isn’t just to kill me.

Maybe he wants them to know that he has me.

Maybe he wants something from them, and he’s going to use me as collateral. Somehow, that option seems like the safest one for me right now.

“Are you calm now?”

I lift my arm to see Marco standing above me again. I’m worn out and exhausted, plus my hangover is starting to make me feel sick.

I nod slowly.

“Would you like a glass of water? I assume that after the amount of liquor you drank, you’re feeling very dehydrated at the moment.”

“I would like to go home, get out of this uncomfortable dress, and go to sleep in my own bed tonight,” I reply, my tone a bit more passive-aggressive than I intended.

“Okay. Well, I can’t help you there, but if you want to get out of the dress, you are more than welcome to. Now, would you like water?”

He holds the glass out to me, but I swear I catch a glimmer in his gray eyes when he talks about me taking the dress off.

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