Page 8 of Stolen By the Enemy

Did he really just want to fly me away to become his sex slave?

I wish that thought made me more worried, but instead it makes me feel hot and tingly.

I sigh, sit up, and nod a bit more enthusiastically, knowing that I need to try to act sane now.

I have already embarrassed myself enough for one day.

My emotions have made my throat dry and tight, and I do need water desperately. I take the water and gulp it down, not in the most graceful way, but I am beyond trying to seduce this man.

Marco sits down again, picking up a magazine and flipping through it. Something tells me this is for show, because I can see that he’s not taking any of the information in.

I wonder how much longer our flight is going to be, but my voice refuses to work so I don’t ask him.

As I’m staring at him, I can feel my eyes getting heavy. I yawn, and notice Marco looking at me strangely.

My head feels like it’s going to flop off my shoulders, so I lay back down, closing my eyes for a second.

My last thought before falling back asleep is about my Nonna, and how she’d never have let any of this happen.

Chapter Three

Marco

The pilot announces that we’re landing, and I walk over to where Grazia is lying, still asleep.

She looks peaceful, even though her makeup has left smudges on her face and her hair that was once perfectly done is now messy and unruly.

I wonder if she’s going to make this harder than it needs to be, or if she’s smart enough to listen and obey my commands.

Only time will tell.

I feel a small pang of sadness about her outburst earlier.

She’s clearly feeling like her family doesn’t care about her, and I could sense that she wanted me to believe that she matters more to her brothers than she probably does.

How sad to belong to such a powerful family, but not matter to your blood relatives.

It makes me see her in a new light, but it also makes me feel bad about using her in this way.

I set my teeth. I don’t have time to feel bad about this. I have goals in mind, and I need her to help me achieve them.

I don’t have time to feel sympathy for damsels in distress from old mafia families.

“Grazia, we’re here,” I say to her, pulling my gun out, but keeping it pointed at the ground for now.

My voice is loud enough to wake her but not scare her.

She’s still passed out and not responding, so maybe the sleeping pill I crushed into her water was a little too strong. But keeping her quite was a priority.

I check her pulse. She’s alive.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I really didn’t want to hurt her.

I’ll have to carry her out to the car. Luckily, she’s small.

I doubt she weighs more than what I’m used to lifting while working.

Her petite frame actually looks even smaller than I remembered, lying vulnerable before me with her legs bound to the table.

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