The Woman in the Trunk

"Fuck you," I snapped, keeping my eyes shut.

"Look, I'm not mad," he said, voice a little hopeless sounding as a traitorous tear slipped out between my closed lids, trailing down my cheek. "I'm impressed, actually."

"I don't give a shit if you're mad," I snapped, eyes opening, glaring at him.

"Like the fire more than the water," he said, his thumb moving out to wipe the stray tear off my cheek.

"Gee, I'm sorry that my complete and utter helplessness is so distasteful to you. I can't say I am a fan of it either."

"Look, hopefully this will all be over at the next meeting."

"And if it's not?" I asked, feeling my jaw start to tremble. "What then? I start having parts of me cut off? I get my throat slit? A bullet to the head? What happens when my father can't pay, Lorenzo? Because, honestly, if that's my fate, you might as well just let me go. I think I'd rather swan dive off that fire escape than have one of you kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you, Giana," he told me, conviction clear in his voice.

"What then? Your father? Emilio? Chris? That guy who was originally supposed to kidnap me, the one who is more vicious than the rest of you? If your father orders it, I know someone will jump to carry through with it.

"No one is going to kill you, Gigi."

"You don't know that. You can't say that. You don't run this family. You don't get to make the calls."

"I make a lot of calls, baby. They might not be as flashy as the ones my father makes, but trust me when I say that when it comes to your life, I can find a way to spare it."

"By what? Sacrificing my father? Indebting me for my entire life? Gee, what a wonderful future I have in front of me."

"Oh, Gigi. You're too fucking young to be so hopeless. We'll figure it out."

"And I'm just supposed to trust you on this?"

"Have I lied to you? I've been as up front with you as possible. You haven't been blindsided by anything yet."

That was true to a point.

Thus far, the only surprises that had come my way had been ones I had brought upon myself.

For a kidnapper, he had been overall pretty decent except when I had provoked him. And even then, he hadn't actually hurt me.

"Making sure I have food and clothes to wear isn't exactly in the same league as pleading for my life," I reasoned.

"I won't have to plead for shit," he said, rolling his eyes at the very idea. Because big bad millionaire mafiosos never had to plead for anything, I guess. "I would appeal to my father's strongest desires."

"And what desires are those?"

"Fear and money," he said, immediately, not needing to give it any thought. "The more people shitting themselves at the mention of his name, the happier he is. And killing you two won't do anything for his bottom line. Keeping you on the books and squeezing you for more cash, that will."

"We don't have more cash, Lorenzo. I don't understand why that is so hard for you guys to grasp. I guess because you've never had to borrow from the food bill to pay the light bill. But there is nothing to squeeze out of us. There's almost nothing left."

"We'll figure it out."

"I'm sorry but that isn't much of a reassurance. And there is no we. You and I, we are not a we. I will be in this on my own. You will be living in this ridiculous ivory tower, while I make myself cozy in a cardboard box behind the bakery."

"That's not going to happen."

"Oh, my God. Yes, it will. The only way I could pay you more would be if I stopped taking a salary. This is not rocket science. There is no more fucking money."

"Well, maybe you will just so happen to find yourself a wealthy client who has very expensive eclair tastes, and is willing to pay well for it."

"You're out of your mind," I said, rolling my eyes. "What? I'm supposed to believe that you are going to be my silent benefactor in some backhanded plot behind your father's back? What? For forever? Get real."

"Nothing is for forever, Giana. Someday, that position my father holds will be mine. And when it is, you have my word, that I will set you free from this family."

"Your word," I snorted, shaking my head.

"Hey," he growled, snagging my chin again, this time, his fingers nearly bruising they held on so hard, as he forced me to make eye contact. "I stand by my fucking word. You can doubt plenty of things about me, but you don't doubt my word. I wouldn't give it if I didn't mean it. We will work out our temporary fix. Until I can give you a permanent solution. You want it in writing, we can get it on paper."