Page 12 of Caught By the Kingpin
Her mouth flattens. “I’m a prisoner here. Nothing has changed.”
“You’re my guest.” Until she’s my wife, that is.
“But I can’t leave.” Fingering the cuffs of her hoody, she glares at me, eyes and voice like steel.
“It’s the middle of the night. We’ll talk about tomorrow in the morning.” That would be my preference, anyway, but I suspect my stubborn girl has other ideas. I’ll be ready. “You’re not leaving.”
6
FELICITY
There was an open window in the library.
I lie in the massive, very comfortable bed and think about my life turned inside out and upside down, and the potential of that open window.
My father is dead. That means he won’t come looking for me. I’m safe from his influence and if I get away, I’d have a real chance of escape. I have with me almost all the things I’d have run away with—except more sensible clothes.
Part of me wants to wait until the morning. Marco saved me, and where my father has fear and brutality, he has loyalty. It’s obvious his people respect him in a way no one at the Kensington mafia ever did my father. Maybe whatever he has planned wouldn’t be so bad?
We’ll talk about tomorrow in the morning.
I’ve been fobbed off.
Do you think this was what it was like for my mother at first? Maybe my father was charming and kind before he got bored of her. Perhaps he even promised marriage, and my mother thought he would eventually make an honest woman of her. He probably didn’t start off with,You’ll be nothing to me and your daughter will be my servant.
Marco isn’t like that. He wants to take care of you, a voice whispers in my head.
Sure, his attention gave me the confidence to finally decide to enact my escape plan, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. He is still a deadly mafia kingpin.
And there’s that other voice.
You don’t deserve a man like him. You won’t be able to keep the interest of a gorgeous, powerful, wealthy kingpin for long. He’ll get bored of you.
I want to believe the affection in Marco’s eyes, the feeling of rightness when I was held in his arms. The inclination of my heart to trust him, fall asleep, and enjoy his attention for as long as I have it. But I don’t want my heart broken when he inevitably decides I’m not enough, as everyone else thinks.
Perhaps he doesn’t want you at all. Maybe you’re a mafia bargaining chip.
There’s no way I’m staying as his little hostage.
I crawl out of bed before I can change my mind. I’ll get out, run to a road. It didn’t work when I tried it from my father’s house, but he’s gone.
I silently try the door handle. Unlocked.
The night air is cool, and there’s moonlight spilling silver onto the long passageway. I noted the route down to the library. All I have to do is not get caught.
I take a shaky breath and one step forward. I can do this.
No klaxon sounds. No trap goes off. Another, and another, on silent feet.
At the end of the corridor, I hear his deep voice. “Felicity.”
Oh god. The kingpin.
I turn, my body already trembling. He stands outside a now-open door opposite the one I came from, partially hidden by shadows. He’s shirtless. I can make out only the outline of his physique from this distance and in the white moonlight, since he’s half hidden by the shadows. But I can see muscles and a crisscross of scars.
“I told you, we’ll discuss this in the morning. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Provide whatever you want. Be it cakes or books or freedom.”
He seems sincere, and yet I take a tentative step backwards. The kingpin is huge. Muscled. Strong, yes, but I bet he’s not fast. And I have a massive advantage. He’ll assume I’m going for the front door and there’s easily enough space for me to turn back to the library on noiseless bare feet.
