Captured by the Criminal (Taken)

We lie on our backs, me under the covers and him on top, staring at the ceiling lit only by a small sliver of moonlight filtering into the room from the window.

“You can’t marry that jerk.” His voice is low, barely a whisper.

“You know my father. I can’t say no.” I wish I could, but my father is all-powerful and his business means more to him than anything. I wish it weren’t the case, but it’s true. And I understand this. Because I plan on leading the business someday, and I’ll need a powerful family on my side.

Ugh. I don’t want to become this way.

I want to sit on the beach forever with Costi and kiss under the stars with him.

Costi reaches for my hand, intertwining our fingers. “He can’t make you happy.”

I giggle softly, knowing very well that Costi is probably correct. A guy like Gino could never make me happy. “I know.”

He squeezes my hand. “This world is fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

Costi’s thumb rubs tiny circles against my palm. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to keep my breathing under control. I don’t want him to know how much this is affecting me.

I close my eyes, fighting the sleep that tries so desperately to pull me under. I snuggle closer to Costi, listening to the sounds of his soft breaths, wanting to live in this moment forever.

When I wake in the morning, Costi’s gone, and I wonder to myself if I dreamt the whole thing.

A week later, it’s determined Costi will go live with his father in Greece. He never even says he’s sorry for leaving. Just decided to go. I try to pretend I’m not saddened by the news, but I’d be lying to say I’m not completely devastated.

Heartbroken.

I try not to cry the day Costi leaves, but my heart weeps, watching him grab the last of his things.

I force my feet to not run after him when he tells me he’ll miss me as he walks away. Will he really miss me? Why didn’t he stay?

It feels like someone punched me in the stomach as I watch the car drive away, taking him to the airport so he can fly to his new home. Without me.

My father tells me everything will be ok. But will it?

My entire life changes at the drop of a hat, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.

Three

Constantine

Present Day

* * *

I could sell you a pack of lies and tell you I’m a good guy. I could say I’m a pillar of the community and always do right by everyone. I could say I don’t lie, cheat, or steal.

I’m sure you’d gobble up these lies, like soup on a wintry day. You’d believe the lies because humans want to believe people are inherently good.

They’re really not. I’m not a good guy. In fact, I’m a criminal in every sense of the word.

A gold-encrusted chandelier hangs from the ceiling, every bit as gaudy as the women standing around me, as I move through this elegant event feeling like an imposter.

Don Amato loves showing off his money, and it’s a lavish party that only he could throw.

Champagne flows from expensive bottles at the bar, and a cacophony of fake laughter drifts through the air.

It would disappoint Don to know all this luxury isn’t what has my attention tonight. My eyes aren’t glued to the gold-and-white flowers that adorn each of the high top tables surrounding the bar. My ears aren’t listening to the orchestra playing bullshit classical music. And my dick certainly isn’t rising for the caviar and cream tartlets being passed around on silver platters. Nope.

As I stand here in my black Armani suit, pretending I belong, the voluptuous curves of Bianca Amato have all my attention.

She’s grown up.

Damn.

No longer the adorable girl who used to sit with me under a blanket of stars, but now a powerful woman, commanding the room with just the sway of her hips.

Her body’s filled out in all the ways that matter to a man like me. I could feast on her flesh and never tire of it. Her brown hair has grown longer, flowing in dark waves down her back. Not in the ponytail she always insisted on wearing when we were kids.

The silky red dress she wears hugs every curve of her delicious body, showcasing her ample breasts and generous ass.

Her golden skin is too inviting as she stands at the edge of the room, hanging on her father’s every word.

I remember a time when she hung on my every word. Even though it’s only been ten years, it feels like a million years ago.

I’m a different person, and I don’t think Bianca would care for the words that come out of my mouth now.

A muscular man in a gray suit stands next to her. Gino. His hand touches the small of her back, and the sight makes my heart pulse with rage. No one should touch her like that. Not even me.