Page 9 of Kidnapped By the Mafia Boss
6 days ago
I revel in the loss of control, even as it terrifies me. I’m leading the chase, determining where we go.
I lure him on. He pushes me forwards.
The fear is genuine, and so is the connection. We’re tied together in this pursuit.
Although I’m hurtling through the dark, I’m not alone.
—CATCHMEKISSME
4
JENNA
Panicshoots through me, harsh and bright in my veins as the fog of sleep recedes. This isn’t a dream. I’m in a huge, comfortable bed, in a beautiful forest-green-painted bedroom, with golden morning light spilling in through the curtains. But my heart pounds.
I really can’t remember anything after the beginning of my first-ever date… I scrabble around in my thoughts, but it’s all like water. I can’t hold onto any of it. I was having dinner with Howard. It was miserable. Then everything is blurry after that. There’s just a vague sense of fear and dread that shivers down my back, but nothing that approaches an actual memory.
I cannot rememberanythingabout how I got here, or why this mountain of a man is standing over me. But I recognise him.
Not exactly. At his side is a black-and-white long-haired dog with a narrow muzzle and a cheerful panting grin, I haven’t stopped thinking about either of them since we met. I think it was them? My memory can’t be trusted right now, clearly.
The man and I regard each other in silence.
He’s tall, difficult to tell exactly how tall when I’m curled in a bed, but well over six feet. Ice-blue eyes, square jaw covered by a short beard. He has cropped salt-and-pepper hair thatis sticking up at odd angles as though he’s pulled his hands through repeatedly. His black suit is clearly expensive, but very rumpled, and his tie has been discarded, leaving the collar of his grey shirt open, revealing a couple of dark hairs below the dip of his clavicle. His chest is broad and as he leans forward, the fabric stretches tight over his muscles.
My heart skips a beat in its panic and begins to thud.
This man is precisely who I thought I was avoiding when I arranged the date with Howard. He’s older, scarily gorgeous, and I’m really, really attracted to him. Like, put some melted cheese on the side, and I’d eat him in greedy mouthfuls. I’d binge so much of him my tummy would be swollen… Or perhaps he’d hold me down and put another sort of bumpinto me.
Breed me with a baby bump.
Even though he can’t hear the thoughts, my cheeks heat. Maybe I’ve had a blow to the head, because this is not sane.
Where am I?
Better.Those are the right considerations for this occasion, Jenna. Not thirsting after a stranger, who doesn’t feel like a stranger.
“Here.”
It’s only when the man turns and pours a glass of water that I realise I’ve been staring at him dumbly. When he holds it out, I don’t take it.
He dips his head to the side in concession, and swallows a mouthful of the water before offering it to me again. I guess I must look shaky, because our fingers touch as I take the glass, him not releasing it until I’m steady. He’s warm and solid and comforting and a soft glow surrounds where our skin met as I drink gratefully.
He sits down at a short distance, folding that big body down into a less intimidating posture, and regarding me.I sneakglances at him and the room beyond. It’s peaceful and large, decorated in a dark-green with touches of black.
“Thank you,” I say when I’ve drunk the whole glass, and he’s refilled it once. My head is fuzzy, and there’s an evening-sized gap where there should be a memory of how I got here.
“Where am I?”
“My estate in Kent. It’s safe,” he says calmly. “I brought you here to recover.”
“Who are you?” I have a lot of questions right now.
He sighs and looks away. The puppy pushes his nose into his hand and almost unconsciously, the man pets him. He has big hands, and as the dog stretches up, revealing his vulnerable neck for the man to stroke, I have the sudden wish to be there in his place. Sitting at this man’s feet, him praising me and petting me. Being his, and cherished.
“My name is Dimitri Voronov. I run the Rotherhithe Bratva.”
