Page 33 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

It’s the first thing I’ve said to him since we left the casino. And even now, my words come out between gritted teeth.

What in the fuck was he thinking?

He wasn’t thinking. That’s what happened.

Taking hostages was not part of the plan. Holding a mobster hostage in the motel where Lukas and Ernestine and June are living was most definitely not part of the plan, either.

Driving home, I wanted to suggest we take Ennio somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Anywhere except where my infant child is,my mind screams.

Dima slides out of the car first, moving backwards so he can keep his eyes and gun trained on Ennio.

Ennio follows, hands raised. I can see he’s shaking. I don’t know if it’s from exhaustion, pain, fear, adrenaline, or a mix of all of it.

“Walk ahead of me. Go into the room.” Dima’s voice is deeper than I’ve ever heard it. Almost like he’s a different person entirely.

Ennio walks inside. Seeing him here, mere feet away from where my son is sleeping, makes me livid.

This should not be fucking happening.

I stand in the background as Dima rips out cords from the two lamps in the room, along with the extra bedsheets, and uses them to secure Ennio to the corner of the radiator that is bolted to the concrete floor and wall. So long as the ties hold, Ennio won’t be going anywhere.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Ennio just before Dima and I turn to leave. “I can bring you something.”

“He’s our prisoner,” Dima snaps. “Not a fucking houseguest.”

“Hostages are no good when they’re starved,” I hiss back.

Ennio nods. “Actually, yes. I’d love something to eat. Anything you have.”

Ennio D’Onofrio is a man, but chained up on the floor, he looks like a small child. I can almost imagine him as a little kid. A head full of dark hair, big brown eyes, a lopsided grin.

Does his father know he is missing yet?

I push the thought away and sneak back into my room.

We’ve got a cooler with some food items in there, so I get to work making a sandwich. When I’m done, I grab a bottle of water and take it all over to Ennio.

I set the plate on the floor and then scoot it into range with my toe so he can reach it with his bound hands. He thanks me sincerely.

I leave without saying a word.

I go outside instead of back to the room. I sure as hell can’t sleep, not with all this nervous, angry energy racing through me.

So I pace. Dima is leaning up against the trunk of the car, deep in thought. I pass back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in front of him.

“Arya, stop.” Dima is looking up at me now.

“I’m pacing.”

“I can see that. Stop.” He sighs and looks up at me. “We have to talk.”

I fold my hands in front of me. “About what?’

Dima snorts and gestures to the sky overhead. “The weather. I’d love to know what you think of this unseasonably warm day we had.”

I grimace at him. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not an idiot.”

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