Taken: A Mafia Romance

by Logan Chance

  One night, after dinner, my anger and resentment hit an all time high when he holds my arm on the walk back to my room. I wiggle free.

  “You don’t have to hold onto me. I’m clearly not going anywhere,” I spit out.

  “I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”

  He opens the door to my room, and I step over the threshold, facing him. “I hate you for leaving.” I slam the door shut in his handsome face, and the lock clicks loudly against the silence in the air.

  He pounds his fist into the hard wood, shaking it on its hinges. “I hate you for staying,” he shouts.

  13

  Rhiannon

  “Rhiannon,” Xavier says, when he enters my room a few days later. Since he didn’t say hello, I don’t feel the need to acknowledge him.

  I sit on the bed, my long hair hanging like a curtain to hide his face from me as I scribble on another card.

  “Get up.”

  “Why?” I glance at him.

  He steps closer. “Stop questioning me. You’ll live longer.”

  “If you wanted me dead, you would have killed me already.”

  “Don’t tempt me. Now get up.” His eyes study me in a way he never has before. Almost like he’s worried I might not follow.

  “Fine.” I swing my legs over the bed in an exaggerated movement, and my feet land on the floor. “Can I ask where we’re going?”

  “No.”

  Nice.

  He leads me out the door, down the hall, and through the front door into the sunshine.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, squinting in the bright light of the sun’s rays.

  “I figured you could use a walk outside. But no talking.” Out of nowhere, he grabs my hand and walks me down the stone path to the small set of woods flanking the front yard.

  Ah, fresh air. I can finally breathe again.

  Still as bossy as ever. Is it weird we’re holding hands? Is it weirder that I almost like it? Almost.

  I finally get a good look at the property. It's a little disheartening for someone planning an escape attempt. The two-story brick house sits on a secluded lot of land with woods surrounding. For anyone to find this fortress they’d have to know it’s here.

  And they must not, because no one really comes here. No visitors, no guests, only him and his loyal men.

  The sole woman I’ve seen is Krista. She's nice enough. Very cheery. But what makes her work for these men? What makes a person immune to another’s captivity? I don't ever want to be that person.

  How could Xavier become that person?

  The boy turned hardened man beside me is as mysterious as the morning dense fog that surrounds the trees like a veil of secrets.

  “This place is beautiful,” I say to break the silence.

  “Mmm.”

  “I’ve always liked summer best.” I tell him, wanting to fill the silence.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re probably a fall guy, huh?”

  He doesn't say anything, only shrugs his broad shoulders.

  “Most people are.” I glance over at him. “I just don't get why people love it so much.”

  “All the colors?” he asks, cutting his eyes to me.

  “Probably, but everything is dying. It's kind of sad.”

  “Well, winter is worse, because everything's dead.”

  He squeezes my hand just a bit, it's barely even noticeable, but to me, the imperceptible movement is enough to send a tiny shrill of excitement to my heart.

  Must be a leftover teenage reaction.

  “True. But, most people hate winter.”

  He stops, and turns to face me. “This is the property. You can have free range of the house and outside,” he says, cutting me off about the seasons. But, I don't care...free range. What is he thinking giving me access to roam? I could almost hug him.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He resumes walking without acknowledging my words.

  He keeps his stare fixed on where we’re headed and his hand tightly around mine.

  We walk a few more minutes while I keep trying to make small talk without much help from him.

  “You’re quite the chatterer,” I say, trying to still my steps beside him.

  “I said no talking.”

  But I don’t listen. This is ridiculous. He can't do this to me with no explanation. “You’re not even going to tell me where you’ve been? Have you been here the whole time?”

  “I’ve been here and there,” he drawls. “I’ve been everywhere.”

  “You sound like a Dr. Seuss book.”

  This earns me a glance and a small twinkle in his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Rhi?”

  The use of Rhi, instead of Rhiannon, makes me believe we’re still connected and not the strangers we’ve become.

  “I just want to know what happened to you.”

  He continues his strides at a quick pace, and I have no choice but to keep up. “I did what I had to do. The end,” he says.

  And the conversation is over. He probably won’t ever tell me, so, I try a new angle. “Why kidnap me?”

  He doesn’t slow, navigating us through the trunks of trees as we trudge deeper into the woods. “I need you, that’s why.”

  Words I’ve wanted to hear since I was fifteen years old fall from his lips, but not in the meaning I wished back then.

  “Why?”

  He finally stops, his breath coming out in quick short bursts. “You sure ask a lot of damn questions.”

  “And get no answers,” I retort.

  Giving up on finding out any useful information, I let him lead me again, and we walk in silence until we come to a clearing with a small lake. The water ripples as the wind rushes over. He drops my hand and sits on a small patch of grassland. I could run, but where? I drop down beside him.

  “Do you remember the night of your fourteenth birthday party? he asks with a small smile.

  “I was so scared that night.” And I was. I think back on my father's face when he saw Xavier with me.

  “Why didn't you stay in Maine?”

  “How do you know I went to Maine?”

  He stares at me, his hair gently rustling in the breeze. “Lucky guess?”

  “Have you been keeping tabs on me all these years?”

  He laughs, but there's no humor there. “No, but I do know a few things.”

  My mind takes off like a jet engine, wondering what all he knows about my life. And as much as I want to ask, I keep the conversation on neutral ground. He's talking, so that's a win in my book.

  “It’s peaceful here,” I finally say after a few minutes.

  “Yeah, I haven’t been out here much.”

  “Too busy?”

  He casts his eyes to gaze at the soft, rippling lake.

  I lean back on my hands. “I missed you.”

  His eyes shoot to mine. “You shouldn’t have. I’m not the same guy anymore, Rhi.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Have you seen anything in the past few days to think otherwise?”

  I have. Just giving me the gift of cardstock and drawing pens is very much like the old Xavier, but I don’t tell him that. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  I glance out to the crystal lake, catching the sun’s glare off the small waves, once more. The only sound is the birds chirping and my thundering heart wishing for all the things that could have been. And it’s in this moment, I let it fade away. My Xavier is gone now.

  He stands, reaching his hand down to me. “Let’s head back.”

  I don't take his hand this time.

  The next morning, Xavier fetches me for our morning breakfast, and already my stomach recoils at the thought of spending any time with him.

  “You remember Dean?” he asks, on our way to the kitchen. “He’s coming here today.”

  Ah, Dean. How could I ever forget the boy who constantly baited me.

  When we reach the dining area, I take my usual seat and Xavier sits clo
se to me.

  “So, you and Dean have remained friends over the years?” I ask. My appetite disappears, and I shake my head no to the fork with scrambled eggs.

  “Yes,” he brings the fork closer to my lips, “now open.”

  “No,” I tell him. “Is he like your boss?”

  This earns me a chuckle from his infuriating sexy lips. “No, more like my right hand man.”

  “Oh, I see.” But, I really don’t. How nice. The fact he remained in contact with Dean doesn't sit well with me.

  He lifts the fork to my lips again, and I turn my head. “If I can't feed myself, I won't eat.”

  He eyes me and the tip of his tongue caresses the corner of his mouth.

  “I’m not going to attack you. It’s not like I’m going to bring you down with an eating utensil.” And let’s be real here, the thought of piercing flesh with a fork repulses me. “Even though I may want to,” I mumble under my breath.

  His hand holding the fork is still suspended in the air as he studies my face. Then he hands it over to me.

  A little stunned he actually gave in, I take it, scooping the food from my plate and taking a bite.

  “Maybe I liked feeding you.”

  “It’s the control, huh?” I ask as I grab another forkful.

  He raises his brow. “Something like that.”

  And then he turns away from me. And that’s it for our conversation.

  Somewhere in the late evening, I fall asleep out of sheer boredom. It’s dark when I wake, and I cross to the window and lean my forehead against the cool panes.

  A convertible, black car pulls into the circular drive, and when the door opens, a man, wearing jeans and a grey button down shirt, emerges.

  A few minutes later, my door opens.

  “She’s in here,” Xavier says, stepping to the side and revealing the mystery man.

  Dean’s eyes meet mine. So odd seeing the adult version of ourselves. He's handsome now. Light hair, cut short, and a tall lean physique that now has muscles. He's blonde like Ian, but not pale and ghostly, a golden tan warms his skin.

  “What are you thinking, Xavier?” He scrubs a hand down his face, probably trying to erase the memory of me.

  “Don’t question me.” Xavier’s voice leaves no room for argument.

  Dean only sighs. “She’ll get us all killed.” And with those words he breaks his stare from me and leaves the room.

  “Well it was good to see you again too,” I say, sarcastically.

  Something flickers behind Xavier’s icy stare before he follows Dean out.

  “Come back soon,” I call out to the closed door.

  I don't know what he's planning.

  It isn’t a secret that my father will look for me. I’m sure he’s called the calvary to bring his princess back to his castle, so I can marry the prince and live unhappily ever after.

  For one fleeting moment, I’m happy to be here with Xavier and not at home. Even though he’s playing a dangerous game. And it could only get worse. So much worse.

  14

  Xavier

  Dean’s anger rolls off him like dice on a craps table.

  “So you want to tell me what this is all about?” he asks after charging into my office. “You kidnapped her already?”

  “Kidnapping is such an ugly word.” I cross to my desk and take a seat. “She was running, so we had to swoop in and take her earlier than expected.”

  “I know how much you hate deviating from your plan. You think this is wise?”

  “Yes,” I snarl. And with the warning tone in my voice, he doesn’t question, only scrubs a hand across his jaw, a nervous habit he employs frequently.

  “I don’t like this,” he finally says after a minute or two.

  “You don't have to like it.”

  He turns away from me to glance out the window overlooking the vast property.

  “Listen, I’ve never questioned you. I’ve always had your back.” He turns around. “But, you’re playing with fire, and I don’t want either of us getting burned.”

  “I have everything under control.”

  “Like you did in high school?”

  My eyes narrow on him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That girl has owned you since day one, Xavier.”

  “That’s not true.” Or at least I wished it wasn’t. But the boy she owned isn’t the man standing here anymore. I just need to remember that.

  “I get it.”

  “Look at this.” I toss a newspaper clipping of an interview with Ian about their impending nuptials his way, and he reads over the article.

  “We’re so happy to finally be getting married. We’ve been best friends since high

  school, and I knew the moment I met her my life would change for the better.”

  “Best friends?” he scoffs. “I seem to remember it differently.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t get out in the sunlight. You become delusional.”

  “Vampire. Maybe that’s his weakness,” I muse. “I’ll throw the sun up his ass and test it,” Dean smiles. “And now they’re pretending Rhiannon isn’t even missing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Proxy stand-in. Marry your daughter off without her consent.” I shake my head. “Wedding’s in a few weeks.”

  “Unbelievable.” He laughs. “Actually considering who we’re dealing with, it’s not.”

  I fill Dean in on the details of my plan, weighing every option and the role Rhiannon will play.

  “Have you talked to Marshall?” Dean asks.

  “Not in a few weeks, but he’s staying updated.” We’re leaving for LA in a few days, so I need you to make sure the house is sound.”

  He nods. “I’ll get started first thing in the morning. I'm going to crash. I'm exhausted.”

  After he's gone, I spend the next few hours tying up loose ends and ensuring everything is ready for our arrival. Then I lie to myself that I need to check on her. It’s becoming a nightly ritual, watching her sleep. I just can’t seem to stop. It's as if she's deliberately tempting me. Her soft breathing, the way her red hair falls across her silky skin. Even the way the damn moon caresses her soft curves in a shimmery light. It makes her look edible enough to eat.

  I’ve been with plenty of beautiful women over the years. Yet, none as perfect as her. It's never been about looks with Rhiannon, because I know her inside and out, but fuck if she doesn't get my dick hard.

  With that thought, I decide not to visit her room tonight and head toward my suite instead.

  In bed, I have my laptop with the footage from the last twenty-four hours of surveillance on the house.

  All the footage of Rhiannon plays for me, and my eyes devour her.

  The more my mind tries to erase the thoughts of her, my body writes it's very own sex scene.

  My dick hardens as I watch the screen of Rhiannon down by the lake. Her sexy walk and the way her hips sway from side to side. The wind playing in her hair as the sun’s rays bounce off the sweet smelling strands. I can almost smell her scent drifting from the laptop.

  Fuck, what is she doing to me? Even at the ripe old age of fifteen my body was attracted to her. I thought about her all the time growing up. Mainly, late at night in my room alone. While most boys my age were thumbing through dirty magazines, I was thinking about her.

  I pull myself out of my track pants and stroke my cock to video footage of her sweet body on display for me.

  My eyes roll back as a low groan escapes my lips. Fuck, I want to touch her. What would she do if I did? Would she enjoy it? Would she resist me? Would she beg for more?

  My mind spins until I'm dizzy with ideas and adrenaline pumps through me. I tug harder on my massive hard-on, knowing I’ll never know what her touch will feel like. I’ll never know the depths of how far I can take her. How high she can reach with me fully seated inside her.

  My heart thunders, as I pick up speed.
I’m so close to coming, and the only vision in my mind is of her with her legs spread. Her inviting pussy there for the taking. And I want more than anything to take it. To come so deep inside her. To feel her hot heat clenching around me.

  I push the laptop to the side of my bed as I continue pumping and fisting my hard dick. With eyes closed and teeth biting my lower lip, I get off to my favorite image of Rhi... her on her knees before me. God, how bad I want to shove my cock so far down her throat and listen to her gag as she takes me all the way in.

  “Fuuuuck,” I breathe out, my abs contracting with the force of coming. Guilt settles in when my body finally calms. And then I push the thoughts of her away, because I need to stop thinking about what will never be.

  15

  Rhiannon

  The next morning, Krista informs me my door is unlocked. I can't get dressed fast enough. Clearly, this place must be Fort Knox or he wouldn't give me access, but there's always room for a mistake. Best laid plans and all.

  The entire day, I make notes in the notebook given to me. Counting the men who come and go. The times they switch shifts. Checking exits. Learning the exact steps from one room to the next.

  Xavier hasn’t been present at all today, leaving me to myself for breakfast and lunch, and I wonder to myself if he’s even here.

  But, I don’t care. I keep formulating my plan of escape.

  In the study, I get distracted by the floor to ceiling shelves empty of books, except for one lone copy of Great Expectations. Hm.

  “Enjoying your freedom?”

  A glance over my shoulder reveals Dean, in jeans and a gray t-shirt, resting against the door jamb, with his arms crossed.

  “I'll let you know when I'm out of here.”

  He pushes off the door frame. “Just so you know, you'd have more luck shoving a camel through the eye of a needle than getting out of here.”

  “Yes, well, you always were a downer.”

  “No, realistic.” He smiles, stepping into the room. “And no one can design a security system better than Xavier can.”