Page 22 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
I smile despite myself. “Trying to stuff me up so you don’t have to pay for a fancy dinner?”
“You caught me,” he grins, raising his hands in the air.
How normal this feels is dangerous, and I find myself guilty as a thought passes my mind: Am I betraying myself and my brothers by enjoying this time with Ilariy?
And the thought lodges itself in my chest like stone, refusing to leave.
I find the walls around me build back up again, block by block, making this very night, his very presence feel fraudulent. I find myself thinking of my brothers, wondering if they’re worried about me. If they’ve noticed I’m missing.
And suddenly, this magical night with this kind man turns into something sinister. It’s like I had been drugged, and now the haze has lifted. I remember who he is: Kidnapper. Tyrant.
I have allowed the Cancun air to mess with my brain, to let me think this is a real holiday. But it isn’t, is it? It’s a very expensive kidnapping.
The very lanes I was taking delight in now become sirens for escape, and I find my eyes darting around, knowing that we’re not being followed. If I could find a moment alone, I couldescape, hide out in a store or something, make sure to call my brothers. At the hotel, that’s impossible with his men watching.
Just then, like a sign from the universe, Ilariy leaves me to browse and steps away for a conversation, his back turned to me. I feel my heart race and realize this is it. This is my only chance to escape, and without thinking, on impulse, I weave my way across stalls and enter a narrow alley, running across to the other side of the market.
My heart pounds as I weave between people, putting distance between us. This is madness—I know it even as I’m doing it. I signed a contract. I made a deal. But that was before he took me out of the country, before I realized just how in over my head I truly am in this situation.
I’m completely at his mercy.
I need to call my brothers and tell them what’s happening. Before I lose my mind and start thinking this is something I can live with.
Ten minutes of brisk walking brings me to a quieter area, away from the main tourist drag. And when I can finally think, I find myself filled with utter dread. What was I thinking running away like that?
Fuck. I have no phone. No money. No passport. Even if Ilariy doesn’t find me, how the hell do I get home?
What was I thinking?
I feel the panic clawing at my throat, the anxiety rumbling through me, and it must show on my face because just then, a young man with a friendly face approaches and asks if he can help me.
I hesitate, then decide I have little to lose. “Could I borrow your phone? Just for a quick call? It’s an emergency.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods, pulling out a smartphone. “American?” he asks.
“Yes,” I admit. From the corner of my eye, I see two men hovering, but think nothing of it. They must be tourists. Lost.
“Actually, why don’t you come with me?” the man suggests. “I haven’t got a phone with me, but there’s a store nearby you can make a call from.”
For some reason, this strange turn of events, along with those two hovering men, makes the hair on my neck prickle. I back away and shake my head. “No, thank you. Actually, I just remembered, my friends are meeting me at that restaurant soon.” I point to one behind him.
His hand suddenly shoots out and grabs my wrist. “I insist.”
Fear floods my system, and I realize this isn’t safe. I’m in trouble. I wrench my arm away and turn to run, but he’s faster, catching me around the waist.
“Let me go!” I scream, kicking backward.
The two hovering men are there now, one of them reaching for my other arm. I fight wildly, but they’re too strong, trying to drag me into the alleyway.
“She said, let her go.” I hear Ilariy’s voice behind me, and despite having run from him, I feel such utter relief I could cry.
Suddenly, I feel safe.
The men turn, still holding me between them. For a moment, nobody moves. Then Ilariy steps forward, looking terrifying, and my captors hesitate.
“This is not your business,” the first man says.
“She’s my wife,” Ilariy replies evenly. “That makes it my business.”
