“I think you are,” she replied, looking up at me. “You’re the only one who knows I know about the book and its messages. So who could you possibly be ‘protecting’ me from?”
My lips curled into a small, mischievous grin. “You naive little thing.” I brushed the back of my fingers against her cheek. “You’re dealing with the Mafia. Let that sink in for a minute.”
She bit the inside of her mouth, her chest rising and falling with slow breaths as if affected by my closeness. I expected her to pull away when I reached out to touch her skin. But she didn’t. Instead, she just locked eyes with me; if she had a gun right now, she’d pull the trigger on me.
“How long do you plan on keeping me locked up for?” she questioned.
“As long as it takes.” I ran my fingers through her soft brown curls.
Her face twisted into a deeper frown.
I stepped away from her and returned to my desk.
“You might as well just kill me now because I can’t survive being locked away in captivity,” she said after me.
I stopped in my tracks, thought for a second, then turned around to face her. My lips curled into a sly, self-satisfied grin as I stared at her, considering my next move. Since she was desperate to leave this place, I knew exactly where to take her.
Chapter 9 —Eva
I sat on the plush cream leather seat of my captor’s private jet. Yes, it turned out he owned one—I wasn’t the least bit surprised.
He was seated across from me, resplendent in a black suit and a black tie with his legs crossed like royalty. The man reeked of power, and his silence was more unsettling than the flat expression on his mean-looking face.
The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the aroma of chilled citrus as a flight attendant poured a sparkling drink into his glass.
I shifted my gaze outside the window, wondering where the hell this man was taking me. Earlier this morning, he’d barged into my room, ordered me to get dressed, and said I was coming with him.
Where? He didn’t say.
I’d wanted to argue, but he left no room for that—besides, I wanted to get out of that room. Even though I had no idea where we were going at first, I thought it was somewhere around the city—maybe he wanted to show me something.
Or maybe he wanted to punish me for standing up to him last night.
I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest.
However, when I saw the suitcases being loaded into the trunk of his SUV, I couldn’t help thinking this might be a journey I wasn’t ready for.
He was standing by the vehicle when I stepped out of the building, my pair of flats soundless against the floor. His eyes wandered over my body, as if assessing my outfit: a loose, flowered top and a pair of simple jeans.
“You’re going to need a coat,” he said, his voice as calm as still water. “Perhaps a hat and some gloves too.” He opened the vehicle’s back door. “It’s cold where we’re going.”
My eyes squinted, my head tilting slightly to the side as a crazy thought crept into my mind.
I blinked back to the present, watching the sea of puffy white clouds stretch across the skyline, reminding me of a canvas of cotton candy. From up here, I could see the Chicago River snaking through the city, which unfolded like a miniature model.
Up until now, I still had no idea where we were going, and he hadn’t spoken a word to me since we took off.
As I gazed outside the window, I thought about what he was up to and why he was doing this.
Was he trying to prove something? Was this an attempt to scare me? What game was he playing with me? These questions overlapped in my mind, leaving me confused and worried about my fate.
“Merci, Sophie,” he said to the tall, blonde air hostess.
She nodded, beamed a bright smile at him, straightened, and then dematerialized.
When I turned to look directly at him, he was already staring at me with his glass to his lips.
“So, what, you speak French now—or is ‘merci, Sophie’ the only thing you know?” I asked, my sharp, sassy voice filling the awkward silence.
