Alexei remained silent. His focus turned back to the Colosseum. A lot of people talked too much, they disregarded the power of silence. He expected it to intimidate me. Negotiations 101 material. Just being me, having my father, put me at a graduate level. He’d have to try harder than that.
“Once the game begins, I take every advantage I can get, keep my opponent off balance,” he replied, “but I can see that I’m getting diminishing returns with that, so I’ll come clean. I want you.”
“Me?” I kept my face as neutral as possible, no fear, no reaction for him to read at all. I’d already given way too much away without even realizing it.
“Yes, I want to steal you from your father.” His voice turned into a rasp at the last word.
Alexei hated my father. Knowing that offered an advantage against him, but didn’t exactly hint at who he was. A hell of a lot of people hated my father, me among them some days.
“If this is your attempt at seduction, it really needs some work,” I said.Calm; breathe in, breathe out.“You’ve done little but piss me off since you stepped out that door. Not exactly the way to woo a woman, is it?”
“My dear, you are not exactly an average woman, are you?” he countered my question. “If I showed up with a tacky chat-up line, an offer to buy you a drink and my winning smile, I might get a date, but little more. You aren’t a romantic, Gianna, you’re a realist. I’m going to get you to choose me. In doing so, I’ll steal you from your father.”
For the third time, he used ‘father’ as a curse. That, more than anything else, offered me a weapon against Alexei. His hate for my father could distract him, aid my escape.
“So what’s your offer then?” I asked, holding my hands out, palms up. “Why should I choose you? Win me over.”
“That’s a conversation for a different place.” He lifted one arm, finger extended. “You’re probably still on New York time, care for an early dinner?”
“Never let a kidnapper take you to a second location,” I replied, letting up my control enough for a smile to appear, “that’s what my father always told me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Alexei’s eyes flashed at the mention. My father really was his Achilles heel.
“And I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist,” he said.
A black car pulled up in front of the bar. The passenger door opened and a man stepped out. Shorter than Alexei, with close cut dark hair and a bushy beard, he beat the man when it came to girth. He opened the back door and stood by it, flat face and dead eyes. Alexei had brought a thug with him, great.
Between the two of them, even if I screamed, nobody could come to my aid before they got me into the car. Alexei sat closer to the exit. If I wanted to run, it was past him first – likely impossible – or over the fence where his thug stood, another dead end.
The only weapons on hand were grappa glasses, Alexei’s beer bottle or my handbag. Against two men who had me by at least 100 pounds, they did nothing to even the odds, not even close.
Alexei stood and adjusted his suit coat before holding a hand out to me. I glared at it and its owner. My best hope for escape came in going with him, ironic as that sounded. I’d wait, exploit any weakness he showed to ready myself for the best moment to strike… lethally if needed.
4
Alexei
Oleg closed the back door after I followed Gianna into the car. My driver had already disabled the internal controls on her side. She couldn’t make a mad dash, but the way she gazed out the darkened window kept me tense until the car took off. Oh, she was a worthy opponent.
I’d won our first round, hands down. She wouldn’t be silently stewing on the seat next to me if I hadn’t. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t landed a punch or two, surprised me. My intelligence report needed updating.
Gianna’s eyes remained on the window. Were I in her position, I’d memorize street names as we passed them. Easier to escape or call for help when you knew where you were. Without her phone, she wasn’t calling anyone. Knowing the streets wouldn’t help her where we were heading. Better she waste her time and formidable intelligence on that than something that might work in round two.
The pictures I had of her had led me down the wrong path. They showed a façade; that she put on a false face. Underneath, I’d expected a pampered Mafia princess, somewhat sheltered from the Bastard’s empire, but with enough knowledge to know how he made his money. A little scare, followed by a flash of obscene wealth would have her seeing things my way.
The Bastard pampered Gianna. She wanted for nothing but it seemed that hadn’t made her soft. A little cynical? Maybe she knew more about the Bastard’s sins than I expected. No matter. It made her stronger and my inevitable victory sweeter.
She wore a different face now, possibly another mask. As rigid and as unmoving as her posture, her lips pressed so tightly the skin around them whitened. Well, I wanted her angry, thrown off her game. I got that wish in spades.
The anger did nothing to mar her beauty, yet another thing the pictures I had access to hadn’t done justice to. Understandable, given she’d put on a mask for them, her dutiful daughter facade. That fact made my job that much easier, but I found my eyes lingering on her. I couldn’t let it distract me.
She leaned closer to the window to see the sign for the motorway. Her jaw tightened, eyes narrowed. The realization that we were leaving Rome had to have hit her. Her expression schooled before her attention turned to me.
“So, where are we going?” she asked, voice light but I heard the strain in it.
“I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, but it’s a great place to have a private chat,” I replied then snapped my fingers, “speaking of private.”
Gianna’s whole head swung to face my hand at the noise. Her eyes never left it as I reached into my coat. She tensed but relaxed when I pulled out a cell phone. Without looking, her left hand patted the handbag on her lap. Her mask cracked with a pursed frown.
