Page 5 of Cinderella and the Daddy
We pull out of the garage lot. No squealing tires. No burning rubber. Like he’s picked me up for a date and we’re on our way out.
I watch my life disappear in the side mirror. Luka doesn’t appear to be in a hurry at all.
The Miami sun beats down on the tourists clogging the streets of Sunny Isle Beach. I could roll down the window and call out for help.
But what good would it do?
I tell myself I'll figure this out. I'll find a way out of whatever mess Charles has dragged me into. Maybe when we stop for gas or at a red light, I can jump out and run. I'm fast. I'm smart. I can handle this.
But as the buildings get smaller and the traffic thins out, my hopes for escape dwindle.
And that’s when real fear creeps in. We're leaving the city. That can’t be good.
The Boss 429's engine purrs as we hit the highway. Under different circumstances, like, say, if I wasn't being kidnapped, I'd be in heaven right now. This car has been my dream ride since I was sixteen and first saw one at a classic car show. The raw power, the perfect lines, the way it sounds like controlled violence.
I dreamed of getting to ride in one, but I didn’t think it would be against my will.
“So, yeah, I’m not sure what the deal is, but you can let me out here.”
He doesn’t even look at me.
Just keeps driving.
“Do you want to tell me where we’re going?”
He tenses his jaw.
“No.”
“Are you going to kill me?
I figure there’s no harm in asking. If he’s going to, who am I going to tell?
“Do you want me to kill you?”
His deep baritone washes over me.
I pretend to think about it. “No, thank you.”
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling through heavy iron gates. It doesn’t exactly look like amurderyplace, but since I’ve never been murdered, I don’t know what that would look like.
He pulls to a stop in front of a mansion.
I’m in a tropical paradise.
“Get out,” he orders.
I have no idea what’s happening, but I do as he says. He gestures toward the front door, indicating he wants me in front of him.
I barely have a chance to look around the massive foyer. “Follow me,” he orders.
The room he leads me to is bigger than my entire apartment. The windows face the backyard. Yard isn’t the right word. It looks like a park. Bigger than a park. Manicured gardens and a pool that belongs in a resort brochure. The bed could sleep four people comfortably. There's even a sitting area with leather chairs.
“Now what?” I ask.
"Don't leave," Luka says from the doorway. His voice carries that same quiet authority that made Drew's face meet his fist. "Don't lie."
He turns to leave.
