I watch Camilla Colombo through the rearview mirror as Matteo navigates Milan's afternoon traffic, her wedding dress a pool of white silk against the black leather seats. She sits perfectly still, hands folded in her lap like she's posing for a portrait instead of being kidnapped. But I can see the slight tremor in her fingers, the way she keeps glancing at the door handles.
She's already calculating escape routes.
"Traffic's clearing up ahead," Matteo reports. He's been with me long enough to know when I'm in a dangerous mood, and taking a mafia princess from her own wedding definitely qualifies.
“Good, I want to reach the lake house before dark." I glance at her again in the rearview mirror, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. "And Matteo? No sudden stops. Our guest might get ideas about heroic exits."
Her head snaps up at that, dark eyes meeting mine in the mirror. There's fear there, but also something sharper. Intelligence. She's not the spoiled princess I expected from the society pages.
"Where are you taking me?" Her voice is steady despite the circumstances. Like she's asking about dinner plans instead of her kidnapping destination.
"Somewhere quiet." I study her face in the mirror. Every micro-expression, every tell. "You might even enjoy it. Beautiful views, very private. The kind of place where screaming won't bother the neighbors."
The color drains from her cheeks, but she doesn't break eye contact. "You're trying to frighten me."
"Not trying, I'm succeeding." I smile at her, letting her see exactly how much I'm enjoying this. "Fear keeps people alive. It stops them from making stupid decisions."
"Like what? Jumping from a moving car?" She shifts slightly, and I catch the way she tests the door handle without looking. "I'm not suicidal."
"No, you're strategic. I can see it in those pretty eyes of yours." I lean back, getting comfortable. This is more interesting than I expected. "Tell me, what other escape routes are you considering?"
She's quiet for a moment, weighing whether to engage. "Why would I tell you that?"
"Because I'm curious about how your mind works."
"My mind isn't your entertainment."
"Everything about you is my entertainment until your families pay up. Humor me. What's the plan? Seduce Matteo? Fake a medical emergency? Appeal to my nonexistent conscience?"
She looks out the window. "Maybe I'll wait for the right moment and take my chances."
"With what? You're wearing a wedding dress and heels, you're in unfamiliar territory, and you have no money, no phone, no weapons." I tick off her disadvantages on my fingers. "Not great odds for a daring escape."
"Might be better than sitting here doing nothing."
"Is that what you think you're doing? Nothing?" I turn around slightly, enjoying the way she tenses when I look directly at her. "You're gathering information. Learning about me, about the situation. It’s not nothing."
"I don't want to talk to you."
"Too bad. We have a long drive ahead of us."
The highway curves into the foothills now, Milan's sprawl giving way to countryside. Another hour and we'll be at the villa.
"How long have you been planning this?" she asks quietly, still staring out the window.
"Six months. Ever since your boyfriend's family decided paying back my money was optional. Though originally I was going to take Lorenzo and kill him to teach his father a lesson. Less complicated, easier to contain."
She turns back to me, genuinely curious. "Why didn't you?"
I consider how much truth she can handle. "Because dead men don't pay debts. And killing Lorenzo would have been too quick, too easy. This way, he gets to live with the knowledge that he sold his promised bride to save his family's assets."
Her hands clench in her lap. "He didn't sell me. You took me."
"Did I? Because from where I was standing, it looked like he stepped aside and said 'take her' when I presented the choice." I meet her eyes in the mirror again. "Your husband made his priorities very clear."
"He’s not my husband," she snaps, the first real fire I've seen from her.
"Not yet, you mean."
