Page 7 of Stolen Vows

"I have clothes at the cabin. Move."

"The cabin?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows, still not taking a single step. "Why are you doing this? Who are you?”

His face darkens, and he finally turns to face me. I can see the bulge of his gun in his pants, and a cold shudder rushes through me at the sight of it. I need to remember what he is capable of—what he could do to me. I’ve already been held at gunpoint once today, and I don’t intend to repeat it.

"You don’t need to know what this is about. You just need to do what you’re told. This way."

He takes my arm and pulls me along roughly, and I nearly careen straight into the ground below. I let out an indignant squeak, trying to wrestle myself out of his grip, but it’s no use.

"Slow down!” I protest, and this time when he rounds on me, I can tell that I have pushed things too far.

His handsome face is twisted into a mask of fury, his eyes dark with anger. He grabs my face in his hand, tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to look into his eyes. His grip is tight, leaving no room for argument, and I know that I am staring into the eyes of a man who is willing to do far, far worse to me if I don’t start behaving.

"If you think I’m going to let a Leone tell me what to do," he snarls at me, "you’ve got a lot to learn. Keep your mouth shut, keep your voice down, follow me, and you might make it to the end of this day alive. Got it?”

For a moment, I can’t come up with the words to reply. There is something about the way he’s holding me that’s almost intrusive. People don’t talk to me like this, let alone men, and my father would certainly never have allowed some man to grab me by the face when I was talking back to him. Hell, he’d have likely killed anyone who tried. And yet, as his thumb rests just an inch or two from my bottom lip, it seems as though everything else has vanished from my mind, leaving nothing but the feel of him in front of me.

Finally, I manage to nod, and he drops my face, turning back to the path and guiding me through the trees. I lift my skirts and do my best to catch up; I wasn’t kidding when I said that this washardly the outfit for hiking, and I feel as though I snag on every tree branch I pass.

Eventually, though, we round a corner and I find myself staring at a log cabin. It looks like the kind of place a hunter would live out of, barely big enough for a single person, but my kidnapper strides up to the door and unlocks it, gesturing for me to get inside.

"This is where you expect me to stay?” I ask, as I come to a halt, my feet aching in these heels.

"You can sleep in the woods, if you prefer," he shoots back, jerking his head inside.

I glance around, for a moment considering taking him up on that offer, but then I let out a sigh, brushing the thought off and doing as I’m told. I’ve never been somewhere this rural before in my life; the closest I have come is staying in a luxury villa that my father owns on the outskirts of Bologna, and even that had a live-in chef and a swimming pool. Somehow, I doubt that this place will have the same luxuries...

Inside, the place is tiny. There is room for little more than a kitchen that opens out to a small living space, a fireplace surrounded by three chairs, and two doorways that lead through to what I assume are the bathroom and bedroom. The floor creaks as I pass over it, and my lips turn downward as I take in my new surroundings.

"What is this place?" I ask as I turn back towards him. Now that I’ve done everything he asked of me, he has to explain himself, right? But he’s not even looking at me, instead striding over to the fireplace where he starts to stoke up some flames. He doesn’t reply, utterly ignoring me.

I plant my hands on my hips and stare down at him as he finally brings to life a flash of fire in the hearth. I feel ridiculous, standing here in this tiny log cabin in my dirt-stained dress, a few twigs and leaves still clinging to my hair and the fabric of my gown. A rush of anger hits me all at once; who does this man think he is, stealing me away from my wedding like this? I mean, yes, of course, I didn’t want to go through with it, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stand by all demure and sweet while this person orders me around and threatens me.

"I’m talking to you!” I exclaim, jabbing my finger in the air at him. As he looks at me, his eyes flicking back and forth between my own, I can tell that I’ve made a mistake. I draw back as a dark shadow flits across his face, whatever patience he might have had left slipping away.

"Oh, I know you are," he murmurs. He isn’t snapping or snarling at me like he was before. He seems almost... calm. Almost amused. Like the thought of me trying to take control of this situation is downright funny to him.

"But I don’t think you know who you’re talking to," he goes on, his voice low, menacing. "Let me guess—your daddy kept you out of his ‘work’ all this time, and now, you don’t have a clue what you’re up against. Am I getting close?”

I don’t reply. I can feel a terror stirring in my belly, sickness twisting in my guts as I try to wrap my head around this.

"But the truth is, you don’t need to know who I am," he continues. "You only need to know that if you do everything I say, you might get out of this alive. And if you don’t..."

He lets those words hang in the air between us, an unspoken threat. His eyes don’t move from mine for an instant, letting it all sink in.

"What do you want from me?" I whisper, trying to muster up whatever courage I have left.

"I want you to know that if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done," he replies. "There’s nobody around for miles. You try to get out of here, and you’re going to get lost in the woods. It’s cruel out there. You won’t last long."

He speaks with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice, as though he’s just telling me what I need to know. I clench my hands into fists at my sides; I almost wish I was dealing with Taylor the wedding planner again. Almost.

"So, you can either die out there, or you can stay here," he continues. "Your choice. But I’ve seen what happens to people who get lost in these woods, and..."

He lets out a low whistle through his teeth.

"Wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy."

He spits the final words out, and I wonder if, somehow, I fall under that banner myself. His worst enemy? How could I have made someone hate me this much, when I have never met them before in my life? I need answers. I need him to explain himself to me. I need?—

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