Playboy Billionaire

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he holds out his hand before remembering that I’m tied down and retracts it with pursed lips. “I’m Nikolai Mikhailov, consigliere of the Russian mafia.” I clench my jaw, eyes narrowed into his sharp gray eyes.

“Your family should be most proud of you today.” He continues.

“Why’s that?” I spit.

“Well, because you're joining forces with the most powerful mafia family in the world.

“That’s the San Giovannis.” I snap, and he immediately grabs my arms, leaning in as close as he can get to my face while looking into my eyes. He’s enraged. His cheeks burn red as he growls, “Not for long.” I keep my eyes narrowed at him, holding my breath as my heart beats loudly in my ears.

“Get her ready.” He snaps at a group of women who must have come in without my noticing. He stomps out of the room, slamming the door so the whole room shakes. These women speak in Russian, tightly pulled back hair, work done to their faces no doubt, their clothes nice but not designer. Must be some of their paid beauticians.

One of them begins to steam a dress hung up on a nail sticking out of the wall. It’s white, long, and lacy. Holy shit, by joining forces, he meant get married. Surely that’s it.

I hate that the dress is gorgeous because all it symbolizes is the enslavement I'm about to be subject to. It’s sleeveless, deeply cut in the front and back, layered with pearl-beaded lace down to the small train flowing to the rickety floors. Most of the dress fits perfectly, so I assume they got my measurements from my Gran or someone close to us. Another infiltration that makes my stomach curdle. I work to piece together who they will force me with as they begin to work on my face and hair, tsk-ing to each other over my swollen eyes from the tears that wouldn't stop flowing just hours before their arrival.

I mostly disconnect from reality while they continue to prod at me. The crushing feeling inside my heart that’s now beating erratically is almost too much for me to take. Antonio is all I can think about now. If I hadn’t left the hotel, I might not be here. But he hurt me more than I could bear. So, I couldn’t stay to even look at him again without feeling that hurt all over again.

The one thing I can’t figure out, maybe because I haven’t wanted to, is why? Why does he have such an effect on me? Is my longing for him more than just chemical? A pang of anxiety punches through my stomach, and I feel nauseous as I replay every moment we’ve had together like a loop in my head.

The touches, the glances, the kisses, the words… everything all boiled down until nothing but the remnants of realization sit at the bottom of the pan.

I don’t know when and I don’t know why, but I think my feelings for Antonio are much deeper than I have allowed myself to admit. Come to think of it, I was never great at puzzles, which is why the missing piece has been right in front of me all along, and I’m just now realizing it far too late.

I can’t say it; I can’t even think it aloud because it won’t change anything. I’m stuck. Held at gunpoint with no hope of getting out of this. I look at the window as they cut the zip ties off my wrists and ankles. I could run. Any moment now, I could run and maybe get away. They stand me up and snatch the dress off the wall as a unit.

I study the lock on the window, imagine quickly opening it, lifting the window, and jumping out. It’s difficult to determine how far up we are or if my boat dock theory is even remotely correct. I could hit water, sand, or fly down multiple stories to my death. It takes me a second to weigh out the costs as they begin to carry the dress over; I decide my best option is to escape and sprint to the window as they scream after me.

I unlock it, lift the window, and leap through head first. I think I’m free for a second before I feel hands tightly gripping around my waist, pulling my back in and throwing me to the hardwood floors that are sturdier than they look. Nikolai grabs my shirt collar and lifts me to his face.

“I felt it would be better not to have to tell you this, but I guess you’ve given me no choice.” My chest rises and falls, mouth parted in shock, as he throws my body down onto the floor again.

“Madame Lombardi’s home is currently surrounded by our men. You make one move out of line, and they have orders to bomb the entire house.”

“You’re disgusting.” I grimace, eyes glossy with fervor. He only grins, nods at the women who are frantically steaming the dress that must have fallen on the floor, and leaves again. Something tells me he’s close by if it only took him this short of a timeframe to reach me. It happened so quickly, but I think I caught a glimpse of shallow water, which means my boathouse theory is correct. Not that it matters now.

I let them undress me as they scold rogue tears falling onto the makeup they just applied. They slip on my clothes, and I let them, lifelessly staring at the lines on the blue walls. This is it for me. My freedom, control, and independence are slipping away so quickly that I might as well be dead.

At least I got to know and be known by someone before everything worth living for is ripped away from me. I can’t figure out why they want it this way. Why not kill me, kill my family, or start something with the San Giovanni’s? Why me?

They button up the back of my dress. Each one done, sealing me into a lacy white tomb. This is my fate now. I have to accept it. Saving my family while letting go of the one person I finally know how I feel about, only to be separated from them forever. At the last button, I begin to shake, fearful for my future and broken to know it won’t ever be with Antonio.