Page 96 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

Nikolai. The name makes me shudder.

The car slows, merging into another lane. I risk another peek through my lashes. We’re passing a sign for Delaware, so we’ve been driving for at least an hour, and maybe more.

The driver ends his call and tosses the phone onto the passenger seat. He glances at me in the rearview mirror again, and this time, I’m not quick enough to close my eyes.

“Ah, our sleeping beauty awakens.” His accent is thicker now and no longer disguised. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Antonova?”

I don’t respond, keeping my breathing steady despite the fear coursing through me.

He reaches over to the passenger seat and picks up my phone. “Your husband must be worried by now, yes? Let’s send him a message.”

He pulls over to the shoulder of the highway, puts the car in park, and turns toward me. The movement reveals a gun holstered at his side.

“Your thumb, please.” He holds up my phone, screen facing me. “Facial recognition is too tricky with you looking so...disheveled.”

When I don’t comply, he sighs dramatically and reaches for my bound hands. His grip is firm as he forces my thumb against the home button, and the phone unlocks. “Much better.” He types something quickly, then holds the screen up for me to see.

Surrender everything, or she dies.—Nikolai

He hits send, then rolls down his window. The rush of air fills the car as he tosses my phone onto the highway. I watch it bounce twice before it disappears beneath the wheels of a passing truck.

“No tracking now,” he says with satisfaction. “Just you and me for the next few hours.”

My mind races through options I don’t seem to have. I need to buy time and gather information. “Where are you taking me?” My voice comes out raspy, and my throat is dry from the chloroform. One of its effects is dehydration. That random medical factoid from my training flashes through my mind.

He starts the car again, pulling back onto the highway. “Somewhere safe. Nikolai is eager to meet you properly.”

“I need water.” I make my voice weak and vulnerable. “Please.”

He reaches into the center console and retrieves a water bottle, uncapping it one-handed. “Here.”

He brings his arm back as I lean forward and holds it to my lips. I take small sips, careful not to drink too much. I need to appear more disoriented than I am.

“The baby,” I whisper, letting my head drop forward. “I’m pregnant.”

“I know.” His tone is matter-of-fact. “That’s what makes you so valuable, carrying Damir Antonov’s heir.”

I let my eyes flutter closed again, as if struggling to stay conscious. “How long... until we get there?”

“A few more hours. Rest while you can.”

I slump against the door, appearing to drift off. In reality, I’m working my wrists against the zip ties, using a technique I learned during a hospital safety course on patient restraints. The key is to create space within the restraint before it’s fullytightened, then work the teeth of the zip tie against the binding mechanism. I need to work slowly to avoid detection.

The driver turns on the radio, and classical music fills the car. Tchaikovsky. The irony of Russian music accompanying my kidnapping by Russian mafia isn’t lost on me.

“Nikolai has been watching you for months. Ever since you married Damir.” He says that conversationally, as though we’re discussing the Eagles’ latest game.

I remain silent, continuing my subtle work on the restraints.

“He says Damir has gone soft because of you. The mightypakhan, brought low by a woman.” He chuckles. “And now a baby? He will give Nikolai everything to get you back. Even his life.”

I need to keep him talking. Information is power. “Damir will kill you,” I murmur, making my voice sound weak. “He’ll kill all of you.”

The driver laughs. “Perhaps, but first, he will surrender his territory, his businesses, and his men. I do believe Nikolai also wants his life. By the time he reaches you, there will be nothing left of his empire.”

“Where are we going?” I ask again, hoping for more specific information.

“A property on the Chesapeake. Very private. Very secure.” He glances at me in the mirror. “Don’t worry. You’ll be comfortable. Nikolai wants you and the baby in good health.”

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