I smiled.
“Okay.”
Five is a Good Number
Nero
The sound of small feet running on wood had become routine. Fresh-cooked breakfast first thing in the morning, coffee brewing and tea steeping. Things I had only ever thought I would be able to have in my dreams, were reality.
We moved not too long after we got together, officially, Elizabeth and I. I gave run of the bar and the boy for Adrien; he liked all that excitement more than I did, anyway. They were sad to see me go, but I had more important things to think about, and the prospect of a new life ahead of me to look forward to.
It was unconventional, what Elizabeth and I had. But really, when had anything in my life ever been conventional? From my childhood to my adulthood, to meeting Elizabeth. I had lost my way… lost sight of what I knew I wanted in my life, forced to live what my father had left behind. Elizabeth changed that.
We sat on our front porch together. We had a huge front yard, big enough for the kids to play. Kaya, the oldest, Jay, the middle, and Emery the youngest – at least for now. They all ran around the yard, Kaya with her pigtails flowing wildly behind her as the younger two chased her. They were the cops, and she the robber, apparently. It was their favorite iteration of tag and neither Elizabeth or I were inclined to make them stop.
“They’re getting so big,” she said beside me. For a moment I thought she was just referring to the three out in the yard, yelling and playing like the world was theirs. I looked over to her, seeing her hands rested on her swollen stomach. Oh. She meant those ones. I smiled.
I reached over, placing my hand over hers as they rested over our growing children in her womb. Twins, this time, and I had said to her wryly that I had always known that five would be my number – hadn’t mattered how the five had come about. They often left her worn out, and tired, but oh so happy as she thought about bringing another set of our children into the world.
It couldn’t have made me happier, either.
“It’s just a few months now, isn’t it?”
“Thank God. I feel like I’m already ready to burst. They kick like they’re trying to punt a football, only I’m the only thing they’re managing to hit.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“Remember how bad Kaya was when she started to kick? You swore it was the worst.”
“Because she always managed to get me while I was trying to sleep, and she was an unrelenting baby.”
We sat, we reminisced. There wasn’t the bustle of the city or the smog of bar smoke. There wasn’t the threat of debts of mafia leaders out to kill. We had what we had always wanted – a family, a simply life, and someone to love deeply.
Kidnapped
~Bonus Story~
A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
I loved my father. Don Leon, infamous mob boss, and the man who dictated every facet of my life, right down to what I wore to whom I would marry. It didn’t bother me, never had. It was my duty as his daughter, his only child, to do as he said, carry on our family legacy as he saw fit. For me, that meant marrying Viktor, a man just as duty bound to his Don as I was.
All it took, though, were a dozen bullets in Viktor’s body to put a halt to my father’s plans, and it was a set of green eyes and a man that kindled fire in me like I had never felt to consider, maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want what my father did for me. That, perhaps, it lay in the least likely place – with the man who took my future away…
* * *
Chapter 1
The night was crisp, and clear. The cool breeze wafting about downtown was the perfect reprieve from the day’s sweltering heat and humidity under the summer sun, and a compliment to the evening’s wind-down.
I was buzzed, just a little, and swayed happily in my heels as Viktor and I walked down the now-clear streets. He had his arm slung over my shoulders, and the press of his body was warm. He was definitely more buzzed than I was, and it sounded in the way that he slurred just a little as he laughed, the sound echoing against the brick buildings we walked by.
“Cor,” he said, his voice thick with the effects of booze and the Russian accent that tinctured his pronunciations. “Such… a beaut of a night, just like you, love.” He hiccupped.
My laughs joined his as he leaned over nuzzled his face against mine. The wine was sweet on his breath, but it did sway me away from him – I leaned up to kiss him, chastely as I could manage with his enthusiasm.
He certainly wasn’t the man I’d have pictured for myself. I had always thought Father would marry me to one of his own, an Italian born man, someone connected to the family. I had always envisioned, growing up, a handsome Giovanni, a reserved Lorenzo, or a mysterious Niccolo waiting for me at the end of the wedding aisle I would soon walk. Someone with roots deep in the Italian countryside, someone as devoted to their father and Don as I was.
Viktor wasn’t the tall, dark, Italian man of my dreams. He was an average, Russian man, who didn’t stand out much, and who certainly was no fairy tale prince. But sometimes reality is more appealing than fantasy. He was kind, and gentle. And he was certainly devoted. He had held no complaint to being married off so young, both of us being twenty with so many years ahead of us and so little experience with romance. I think that’s part of what drew me more to him; he was as willing to do whatever was asked of him by his father and Don as I was, without complaint. It’s where we got along. Our loyalty to our families. Even our loyalty to each other. Neither of us had been intimate with another, and he always made a point to make it clear that he had no intention of straying.
Of course as a result of that, the closer we got to our wedding date, the more… enthused he got. We hadn’t been intimate with each other, either.
Our kiss became more impassioned as we walked along. Viktor was a good kisser, not overly experienced but he made me feel… good. I didn’t realize we’d changed directions and ended up down an alleyway until I was being pressed against the brick wall of it, with Viktor’s hands making a mess of my otherwise perfectly curled hair. My own hands found a place on his shoulders, and as our lips moved together I smiled a bit. I couldn’t say I loved him – it was far too early for that, and we didn’t know each other nearly enough.
But I did care for him. He was my friend, soon to be my partner.
“We’re not going to get back home in any good time if you keep going at me like this,” I said after a moment, breathless against his lips. His response was to laugh, and he did so heartily.
“Only celebrating. Isn’t that vot we are out here for? To enjoy each other?” His face nestled in my neck, though he made no move to continue further. I nudged him away gently, giving him a sweet peck on the cheek.
“The wedding’s only two weeks away,” I reminded. “I’m sure that you can wait to enjoy me even more.”
His laugh rumbled against my neck, and he pulled away from me then. His eyes were glassy, a deep dark midnight black. He smiled.
“Well then. Come. Let us be off to sleep away the night, and get closer to that day, yes?”
He led the trek from the alley to the opening leading back out to the street. He had a pep in his walk that was contagious. I felt myself elated; soon, we would be more than future husband and wife. Soon we’d take the next step in fulfilling our family’s wishes. Soon –
I stopped as short as my thoughts did as someone stepped into the alleyway with us. I couldn’t see the person past Viktor, aside from noticing him step around the corner and in front of us. I wasn’t the only one confused.
“What are you—”
A muffled shot rang out.
It wasn’t the first time that I had heard gun shots, but it was the first time that those gunshots were so close, coming out quieter than usual. From a silencer? The succinct pop, pop, pop of the shots pierced my ears nonetheless, and my mouth fell open as Viktor staggered in front of me, turning around with wide eyes.
The whole front of him was covered in blood. I could see the punctures in his che
st where the bullets pierced his clothes. Liquid red ran down from them, hot and wet. A bloody hand of his reached out, touched my face. He tried to grip me as the weight of his body drug him down to the ground, but he couldn’t hold on, and he was too big for me to hold up in my arms.
“Cor…ella…run…”
I was stunned, and in my shock I found I could not do what he asked of me. Two seconds ago we were kissing, laughing. Less than an hour it had been before we had been sitting across from each other, eating dinner together, discussing our wedding, joking about how invested my father was in it, playing both father and mother of the bride in his preparations of our union.
But now, that man lay at my feet, a pool of blood slowly leaking from under his body, staining my shoes and the dirty alley beneath him.
“V-Viktor?” Calling his name was futile. He didn’t speak, and he didn’t move. No breath came to him to give me a hopeful rise and fall of his back as he lay face-down on the ground.
He’s dead. He’s dead.
I can’t help but stand there, staring down at him. It’s only a movement out of the corner of my eyes that had me looking up, and for the first time my gaze finds my fiancé’s killer.
He was taller than Viktor had stood, leaner, but clearly hardened with muscle. A black beanie covered his hair, but I could still see his face. Narrowed green eyes stared me down, and a frown curved his full lips downward. The gun in his hand was pointed straight at me. I can feel my heart threaten to beat out of my chest as I look down at it. If he killed Viktor, did that mean this is some sort of mob hit? And what’s more…
Was he going to kill me?
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I don’t know if I’d have been able to scream either way, but as soon as he caught the fact I was going to try, he bounded over Viktor’s body, his hand coming to my mouth, body pushing me against the wall that Viktor and I had kissed against just moments before.
“Shut up.” His voice snapped hard and deep, and I couldn’t help but clench my jaw under his hold. “Don’t say a damn thing, cupcake. It’ll be worse for you.”
The man pulled away just slightly, his hand still over my mouth, and his gun pointed at my head. The metal was warm against my skin, a reminder that it had just been shot. I swallowed hard as he looked behind him, and my mind swam with horrible thoughts. What was he going to do with me? Would he hurt me? Assault me? I could try to fight back, but with his size… it’d be hard to do so with any sort of success.
I swallowed as he turned his eyes back to me with a curse. Perhaps he wasn’t expecting a witness; he didn’t seem as confident as a man would who had just murdered someone, given that was his intent. He looked troubled, his brow furrowed. If I could have begged him to let me go… convince him I’d tell no one of what he had done, I would have. To buy myself some time would be invaluable, but the man wasn’t intent on doing that.
“Shit.” He cursed again as he continued to stare at me, and he moved the gun to my forehead.
This is it. He’s going to kill me. I’m going to die.
My eyes closed. I felt tears running down my cheeks from them, but knew there was no point in trying to struggle. I couldn’t get away from him. I wouldn’t make it out of the alley if I managed to get out of his grip, not with that gun in his hand. Not with the fact that I was the only witness to his crime, the only one to see his face.
I thought of my father, in that moment. He would miss me so much. I was the only one left after mom died. The only one who knew him and loved him as well as I did. His little angel… his girl that did whatever he asked, without question, without fault.
I waited for the moment that my thoughts would suddenly stop. The moment never came. I opened my eyes slowly, my vision blurred with my tears. The man continued to stare at me, those dark brows furrowed. His gaze was unwavering, and I was frighteningly captivated by his eyes, unable to look away from the person who may very well be the last person that I ever saw. He raised his hand, the one with the gun, but my eyes never left him.
The last thing I saw was a flash of remorse in those cold green eyes, and then the world went dark.
Chapter 2
My head hurt something fierce. That was the first thing that I realized as I came back, slowly and foggily, to consciousness. The next thing that I realized, was that I was no longer in that fated alleyway. My head rested against a pillow, my back was against some sort of cushion, and the television was on.
My eyes blinked open a little, and I squinted at the sudden light. A few moments of adjusting also had me realizing that there were bounds at my wrists and ankles, keeping me from moving too much. Odd, that I hadn’t been gagged.
As far as I could tell, aside from the sound of the television, I was entirely alone. That being said, I didn’t dare move more than to look around, try to crane my neck to see if I could find any trace of the person who had brought me here, who—
A lump formed in my throat as I remember what led me to being here in the first place. The sight of Viktor, dead on ground, is one that forces its way into my mind. I could remember most vividly the blood, which I realized with horror as I looked down to my dress, was still there. It should have been a comfort that at least I hadn’t been undressed, or worse, but it wasn’t enough to make me feel fully at ease. I still didn’t know where I was. I didn’t even know who had taken me. I didn’t know if my father even knew by now that Viktor was dead.
“You’re awake now.”
I jumped at the sudden voice, looking around to see where it had come from. I saw no one, but heard footsteps. I waited with a renewed sense of anxiety, and watched as Viktor’s killer came around to the front of the couch. The brunette man with the brilliant green eyes.
He was indecent enough to be in nothing but a towel, wrapped around low on his waist. The blush that crept up my neck was involuntary, but I didn’t take my eyes away from him as I looked to his face. I didn’t want to give him a reason to think he was under my skin, in any sort of way. This was frightening. I still didn’t know what he wanted from me, why he’d killed Viktor, why he’d taken me. But I was the daughter of a Don. I needed to be strong.
We stared at each other in silence. The television murmured low in the background. I couldn’t make out what it was saying; it sounded like a news broadcast. It didn’t seem to take the attention of the man, either way. His green eyes bore down on me curiously, as if he were surprised. Was he expecting something else? Was he thinking that I would try to scream, or run? It would probably be a good thing to try, but even as the thought crossed my mind I had to remind myself that with all the screaming and fleeing in the world, that wouldn’t stop a bullet from silencing me.
“You’re awfully quiet for a little princess.”
My brow rose when he finally addressed me. His voice was deeper than I had expected it to be, and that wasn’t what I’d thought would come out of his mouth.
“Something tells me you wouldn’t want me screaming,” I said. “And it wouldn’t get me anywhere even if I did.”
His lips twitched, as if he were amused at some little joke. That made my eyes narrow.
“I wouldn’t say all that, cupcake. But you are right that it wouldn’t get you anywhere. No one would hear you all the way out here, anyway.”
“Don’t call me cupcake,” I snapped, irritated by the disrespect. “I don’t know who you are or why you took me – killed my fiancé – but if you think you’re going to get away with it, you’re an idiot. I’m –”
“I know exactly who you are, cupcake, and that’s really the only reason that you’re not dead right now with your little Russian boyfriend.”
I didn’t reply as he reached down to me, but I did flinch when his hands touched me. I squirmed, not wanting him too, as he sat me up on the couch, situating me feet to the floor and my back against the cushions. He squatted in front of me, and I glared down at him. This didn’t seem to have any effect on him.
“Corella Maria Bellini.” My eyes widened
as he recited my name perfectly. “You’re the only child to Don Leon Bellini, only the most powerful Italian mob boss to walk the streets in the last four and a half decades. Very impressive, by the way.” And oh, he did sound impressed. “That Russian guy I shot was Viktor Petrov… Who happened to be the youngest son of Vladimir Petrov. Also a mob boss. Lucky me.”
“I wouldn’t say it was,” I said, sneering.
The man shrugged. “Depends on your perspective.”
“And what’s yours?”
“My perspective is that while I probably couldn’t hope to fight off two mob bosses on my own, I could probably buy myself some protection handing over Don Leon’s one and only baby girl. Vlad has a number of other sons, and I’m sure your dear old dad cares more about getting you back than he does about Vlad getting his revenge. Maybe he’ll even offer you as a consolation prize to Vlad and give you to one of his other sons. Win, win for everyone. I don’t die, and you keep being a cute little bargaining chip, huh?”
I was quiet the entire time that he spoke. My anger… my frustration… It all mounted as he continued to speak, so effortlessly, without remorse, as if this were an amusing situation to him.
“And how do you know all of this?” I asked levelly. “Who are you? A mole? An informant?”
Again, the man shrugged. I had the urge to kick my legs out and knock him between his legs, but my desire for answers was stronger. For now.
“It didn’t take long for the news to pick up the fact that Viktor Petrov had been shot point blank in the dead of night. People – wait staff, random witnesses, the like – also knew that you were out and about with him. It didn’t take long for the story to start to circulate about the mob boss’ dead son and the Don’s missing daughter – it’s pretty easy to piece together the rest, given how mob marriages work. The wild theories going around are so interesting. Some people are wondering if maybe Vladimir took you for himself, you know. My sources tell me your father doesn’t disbelieve those rumors. They fear a complete turf war.”
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