Like he can hear my thoughts, Giovanni leans down and whispers, “If you run, I will catch you. You’re mine now.” The heaviness of his words spread goosebumps down my arms.
Weston must hear him because he starts to freak out. “You can’t take her. She’s not yours!” He stalks toward us, and just as I’m about to make a run for it, Giovanni picks me back up in his arms. His men grab Weston and hold him back. He starts bucking his body, attempting to flee the men. Giovanni holds me tighter, walking around Weston and his men.
“I’ll meet you back at the club,” he says to his men. “Just make sure his heart is still beating when you’re done with him.”
“She’s mine, Valentino!” Weston spits out.
Giovanni turns around and gives him that same smile I fell for the other night. “Consider your debt paid in full. You’re welcome. And if you so much as breathe near her, I will personally end your life. She’s mine now.” Then he walks us out of the house, Johnny opening and closing the door behind us.
The cold air hits my face and I shiver. It’s been months since I’ve been outdoors. I take a moment to inhale the fresh air before Johnny opens the passenger door to the Cadillac sitting in the driveway. Giovanni places me on the seat then waits for me to move over before he edges in next to me, closing the door.
“Where to, Boss?”
“To the club,” Giovanni confirms.
“You got it.”
After a few minutes of silence, I get up the courage to speak. I don’t know how far it is to this club, but I know I only have a short time to convince him to let me go. Where I’ll go? I have no clue. I have no money, no clothes, and I’m in desperate need of medical attention. I need something to take the pain away. At this point, I’ll take anything. My heart rate starts to pick up, my body going into emotional overdrive as I work myself up. An anxiety attack is building quickly, and I can’t do anything to stop it. “Can y-you please let me go?” I’m freezing cold and my teeth are chattering. My hands are shaking and I’m on edge, needing something to calm me before I hit rock bottom. I need something to numb me before my body goes into full-on panic mode. My head’s pounding and it feels like I’m having a heart attack.
Giovanni looks up from his phone and puts it back in his pocket, twisting to face me. Framing my face between his hands, he locks eyes with me. “What drugs are you on?”
Pulling out of his grip, I look down, ashamed of what my life has become. “I’m not a druggie. Can you please just let me go?”
“You’re coming off of something. Don’t lie to me.” With his thumb and forefinger, he lifts my chin, so I’m forced to look at him.
“You are mine now. What drugs are you on?” Mine. That one word causes me to slip over the ledge. I yank my face from his touch. My hand goes to the door handle in an attempt to escape, not even caring that if I jump out and the car is going too fast, I’ll likely hit the concrete and die. I’d rather my life end now and join my mom in heaven than live another day in this hell on earth.
Hands grab my waist and suddenly I’m being pulled into Giovanni’s lap. My brain and body finally snap. “I’m not yours! I’m nobody’s! You can rape me and drug me and force me into another basement, but I will never be yours!” A great tremor overtakes me as sobs break free from the deepest part inside me. My fists pound against his chest as I beg him to let me go. Streams of fear and devastation flow faster than my elevated heartbeat as I release every pent-up emotion I’ve had to keep down. I have no idea what this man is going to do to me for my outburst, but I can’t stop. It’s like being in the middle of a tornado—the basement door has been swung open and there’s no closing it. All I can do is ride out the storm and pray I make it through alive.
“It’s okay,” he says soothingly as he rubs my back. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Let it out.” And I do. I yell and scream and continue using his chest as a punching bag. I cry and beg, and when my body and mind and heart can’t take it anymore, I shut down and everything goes black.
Chapter Seven
GIOVANNI
What the hell did I just do? I’m not saying I’m a standup guy because that would be a boldfaced lie. I’m in the fucking mob for crying out loud. I own a bordello—a fucking whorehouse! Albeit a high class one, but still a whorehouse, nonetheless. I’ve killed when necessary and sometimes just because it’s what I felt should be done. But never have I resorted to kidnapping a young woman—or any woman for that matter.