Page 10 of Kidnapped By the Mafia Boss
“You’re a mafia boss.” My voice is shaky. The mafia boss of the area of London where I work. “The Rotherhithe kingpin?”
Dimitri inclines his head with surprising grace for such a large man. “Yes.”
That should fill me with fear, but how straightforward he is actually reassures me.
“Why can’t I remember…”
“We think your date sedated you.” The words are gritted out with fury and his fist clenches.
“Howard drugged me?” Safe, boring Howard? I’m more than a little sceptical. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
“You don’t. But you can ask me anything, and I’ll answer, and never lie to you.” His accent has a hint of Russian, and he’s so familiar.
But he’s a kingpin. I’m not going to ask him if he and that dog are the same as the man who brought in a puppy to theveterinarian clinic. It was two months ago, and my memory is obviously playing up right now. Let’s not sound totally insane.
“How did you find me?” My chest tightens with fear just saying the word, pulling in my shoulders too. Drugged. What happened to me? I want to curl in on myself and simultaneously vomit out whatever might have occurred while I was unconscious.
“I was in the restaurant during your date.”
Funnily enough, that ties in with something I remember. A flash of a memory from early in the evening of a man eating alone inthe restaurant.
“Do we know each other?” I’m suspicious, and that thought is thick in my tone.
“Maybe. I was stalking you,” he replies simply.
That admission steals my breath. Wow. He wasn’t joking about the truth. And weirdly, that makes me trust him a bit.
“What happened?”
“You had dinner with your date.” He says that word the way most people say dog poo when it’s on their shoes. Which, okay. That tallies with my memory of the first part of the evening. “Afterwards, you went upstairs with him to his hotel room?—”
“I didwhat?” This is taking a turn I didn’t expect. Did Howard call me a good girl and tell me he had a massive dick, loved spoiling women with orgasms from oral sex, and rescued puppies? Even if he had, I’m not sure I’d have gone to his room.
“And then you sent a message to your Instagram that suggested to me you were in danger, so I came and got you.” He delivers the phrase with studious innocence.
There’s a lot more to the story, but I’m not ready to hear about it yet. I grasp at my dress, and as though he read my mind, Dimitri passes me the crossbody bag I was wearing yesterday. Everything is in place.
My phone confirms he’s right. I posted something with out-of-character seriousness. There’s also a text from my housemate.
Me: HELP!
Her: u ok babe?
Under my lashes, I peek at the kingpin. He’s observing me steadily, forearms on his knees, fingers loosely interlaced. But beneath the relaxed facade, there are lines of tension. But he’s telling me the truth about some things at least. If he manipulated this situation, he’s done it cleverly, and I can’t see what the aim would be.
Me: I think so, thx for checking
And I pray it’s true. There’s nothing from my parents. Not that I expected it, but the pang is unavoidable. I look back at Dimitri.
“Let’s say that’s the case…”
He nods grimly, but doesn’t rush in with some offence that I’m not entirely believing him.
That means there’s a sizeable gap in my evening, and it’s filled with Howard, who had the opportunity to spike my drink. Perhaps when he went to the bar… It makes some sense, and it’s the best theory I have until my memory returns.
“Do you think he kissed me?” I ask.
Dimitri’s eyebrows shoot up.
