Page 46 of His Queen

Half an hour later, I realize there aren’t enough blush roses for all the centerpieces, and my stomach lurches into my throat. “Please tell me we have more roses?” I say, and everyone around me comes to a screeching halt.

They all stare back at me, their faces twist in confusion, and I can feel the panic settling around the room.

“Can someone tell me if we have more roses?”

One of the florists steps forward, a tall man with long, wavy hair pulled back into a ponytail. “We have some more in the delivery truck, but they’re not as fresh.”

“Show me. Hopefully, there are some we can use.”

I follow the florist to the back, his long strides forcing me to keep up. We pass through a set of doors and down a narrow hallway that leads to an exit door at the back of the hotel.

Raindrops start to fall as we step outside, the cool air settling on my skin and water droplets hitting my face. The delivery truck is parked a few feet away, and I can see the florist already fumbling with the keys to unlock the back. As I walk up next to him, the back of the truck opens with a low creak, and I’m hit with the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

My senses go on high alert, warning biting into my flesh, and I instinctively step back but crush against someone’s hard frame. Everything happens all at once, and I’m not even sure I’m breathing. In an instant, all the serenity and calm fade into fear and chaos.

Cruel hands grab my arms, and adrenaline shoots through my veins. I try to scream, but a hand covers my mouth, leaving tape stuck to my lips, and the world goes silent. Panic sets in as I struggle to get free, but something is pulled over my head, and darkness surrounds me like a thick, poisonous fog stealing all the air from my lungs.

My heart beats faster and faster until all I can hear is its pounding in my ears. My struggles become more frantic as arms grab my waist, lifting my feet off the ground.

I can’t scream. I can’t beg them to stop. I can’t demand them to let me go.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Del Rossa,” a voice laced with malice says next to me. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

My screams are nothing but muffled desperation as a sharp prick pierces my neck, cold spreading just beneath my skin.

The last thing I hear is the van door shutting, and my panicked thoughts…stop.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

MIRABELLA

“I’m here, Mirabella.”

The sound of her voice wraps around me like a blanket. It’s warm. Comforting. And I don’t ever want it to go away.

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Momma?” I press my eyes closed tighter, cast in complete darkness.

“You need to be strong, okay?”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I know you can.”

A shivering cold wraps around my ankles, prickling my skin with a thousand icy needles. Fear is running rampant in my bones. My panicked breaths hardly have oxygen reaching my lungs.

I gasp when warm, soft hands touch my cheeks, a gentle brush of fingers setting me at ease—at least a little bit.

“You need to listen to me, Mirabella.” Her voice drops to a desperate murmur. “You have to be strong. Don’t open your eyes. And don’t let them in.”

“I’m scared,” I whimper, sniffing as hot tears sting the corners of my eyes.

“I know you are, and it’s okay. Just don’t let that fear control you. You have to stay strong. Remember that you’re my brave little girl.”

“I don’t want to be brave,” I cry. “I don’t want to be here. Please take me away from here.”

“I wish I could,” she says, and it hurts when I feel her lips against my forehead.

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