Page 62 of The Mafia's Captive

“He didn’t tell me.”

“You better hope for the sake of your mother that we’re able to find her and that she’s alive.” He stares back at me in defiance. I wonder what made him turncoat? He doesn’t look like a rat. I guess the best ones don’t. “Tell me something,” I ask him. “Why did you do it?”

“Turn on you? Nothing personal. But I don’t think you’re going to win. You’re weaker than your father and even he was defeated by Saccone.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.”

Too bad for him, he chose wrong, and he was going to pay.

21

Iwake up to the feeling of warm soft pillows contrasted with the dull throbbing pain near my temple. My head feels heavy, but I’m not sure if it is the pain or something else. Was I drugged? I struggle to get up into a sitting position. As my eyes open wider, I realize that I’m not at Dante’s apartment. Or anywhere familiar. I’m in what appears to be a hotel room. A deluxe, to be precise. It’s large enough to be too expensive for someone like me, but too small to be considered a suite.

Where am I? A memory flashes in my mind. Rob and Sal arguing. Gunshots. Someone knocking me unconscious and now here. Is Rob okay? But if I am here alone… Panic sets in. I should get out of here. Wherever here is. I rush to the large floor-to-ceiling windows. They offer a view of the city skyline. The flashing neon lights which would bother me any other day bring me comfort. I’m still in the city. I look around to gauge where I am. I spot the Grand Palazzo on the other end of the city. I note other landmarks closer to where I am. Judging from where the Grand Palazzo is, that must mean I am… No, it could not be. I am in Saccone’s hotel and casino. Jesse sent me to Saccone? How could she? Was she working with him the entire time? My head begins to hurt even more. Whatever the case is, I had to get out of here.

I look around for my or any kind of footwear. There doesn’t seem to be any. Great. I can tiptoe silently so as to not alert anyone who might be here. The door doesn’t creak when I open it, which is good. It opens to a suite with what I can at best describe as garish furniture. It’s styled in gold furnishings, black tiles, and black sofas. Between the bedroom, which has an ensuite, which I checked and the living room, there doesn’t seem to be anyone here from what I can see. Good. I rush to the door and just when I’m just about to reach it, it swings wide open. A large man fills the door. Immediately he reminds me of Rob. He has Rob’s tall stature, wide stance, and intimidating manner. Everything except for the warmth. This man strikes fear in me the moment I see him.

He stares back at me as if in shock, and I belatedly realize that I can duck into the small space between his side and the door frame. I take the chance but I’m too late. He pushes me back into the room with little effort until I fall onto the couch. “Stay here.” He grunts. His words are heavily tinged with an eastern European accent. He sounds scary enough that I comply. “What are you going to do to me?”

He stares at me saying nothing. After a while he goes to the door, closes it and locks it. That last part makes me even more afraid. He stalks back to where I am and sits on the sofa opposite me. “If you stay calm, nothing will happen to you. If you move,” he takes out a gun out of his jacket, “A bullet goes into your head. Understand?”

I’m too shocked to do or say nothing other than nod.

He grunts and puts his gun back into his jacket. Next, he pulls out his phone and he starts playing with it. From the sounds emanating from it, I’m sure he’s playing a match three game. It feels so surreal. I’m being held hostage by a giant scary man who likes to crush candy in his downtime. We stay like this for a while. Him playing his game and me sitting quietly while I wallow in limbo until a knock on the door disrupts it.

“Stay,” he grunts. You would think he’s talking with a dog, the way he says it. He gets up, takes out his gun and goes to the door. I watch as he asks who it is. Someone responds, and the door is opened. Four bulky men in black t-shirts, pants and jackets pour in. They’re like a dark procession for the devil himself, who soon comes after.

It’s Saccone. The man I’ve both been fascinated by and afraid of. As he marches into the room with the swagger of a man in his kingdom, I’m struck by him. He is not as menacing as I remembered him, and instead he looks much older and a little haggard. Regardless, he still emanates violence in a way that puts fear into my heart. Maybe it’s the ugly scar on his face. Or maybe it’s his gaze, which is cold and immediately lands on me, putting a chill down my spine.

His men part way for him, and he marches over to me. “Stand up,” he commands. I do as he says, even though part of me wants to rebel. Even the rebellious part of me realizes that it would be foolish to resist.

“So you’re the one he’s been hiding from me.” His next move takes me by surprise. He opens his arms and says, “Welcome back my daughter.” Until now, I had forgotten that he’s my father. Even as he calls me his daughter, that fact still hasn’t sunk in yet. “Well?” he asks when I hesitate. He drops his arms. “I get it. I would be nervous if I were you.”

“I’m not nervous,” I say, finding my voice for the first time. “I just don’t know why I am here.”

“Ah,” he steps back and sits on the same couch his henchman was in. He spreads his legs and leans back, his arms wide across the back of the couch. “I forget that you don’t know who I am. My name is Michael Saccone . And I am your father. I don’t know if your mother told you about that part.”

“She didn’t.”

“I get it. We didn’t have a great relationship. She would be the first to tell you that. It was short and tumultuous, but it produced,” he waves his hand in my general direction, “you. One could say it was productive, don’t you think?”

I look around the room. The other men stand guard, looking like they aren’t listening, nor do they care to. Even though there are other people in the room, it does feel like it’s just me and Saccone. “It still doesn’t explain why you kidnapped me and took me to your hotel. You could have just come over and asked for me.”

“And your boyfriend would not have killed me the moment I walked through those doors? Come on.” He leans forward. “Do you know that he was deliberately keeping you away from me?” He takes my silence as acquiescence. “Yes. Unfortunately, he thought he could use you as a bargaining chip. Ransom you. Kill you as a form of revenge. I don’t know what goes on in that insane man’s head. That’s why I had to save you.”

“You say this as if I should be happy that you took me away? I would rather be anywhere right now than be here.”

“I understand that you’re a little mad.”

I don’t know what about that sentence that makes me mad. Maybe it’s the way he says it, or the nonchalance or being tired of being a pawn for two men’s stupid games. “A little mad? You fucking kidnapped me and now you’re telling me that you’re my father as if that’s something I should be happy about when, in fact, I knew. Dante told me about you and I asked him to protect him from you because I want nothing to do with you.” He didn’t need to know the truth, but telling him this seems to have an effect. He drops his charming dad act faster than a hot rock. He turns cold, his face blank he says, “I should have known you would side with him. My source told me Morelli forced you to become his whore, but clearly that’s not the case. Funny, because I thought someone of my blood would realize that he’s your enemy.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. Since you choose to be a whore, I don’t have to wine and dine you. I have an offer for you. All you have to do is take it or leave it. I have a deal I need to put through and to seal it. The person needs something more concrete. How about you marry him and I will pay you ten million for your troubles? Half up front. Half when you wed. What do you think?”

The proposal comes out of left field. I have to process his words in my mind three times. He wants me to be some part of an arranged marriage so he can close a business deal? And he’s offering me money for that? Is he bonkers? He must be, because that’s the only way it makes sense.

“I think you have lost your marbles.”

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