04

I struggled to get away, but my arms weakened and I was quickly forced to let go of the wall. I fell onto a hard, masculine chest, arms folding like bands of steel around me. "Get your hands off me. I'm not going with you."

He didn't move. "You're coming with me. Even if I have to drug you to do it."

I sighed. "Drug me? Is that what you Italians do to reluctant women?"

His lips found the edge of my ear. "I couldn't say. There are no reluctant women in my life, Francesca."

Was that...sexual?

My mind remained fuzzy, but my body must have been on board because it caught fire. I was close enough to smell him – lemon and mint and maybe green apple – and my nipples tightened. I closed my eyes, humiliated.

Why was I having this reaction, especially when this man wanted to kidnap me and force me to marry his son?

Using all my strength, I resisted against him. "Get off me, you idiot."

He gave a soft laugh. "Drugs, that's it."

I tried to move away to see his face. "No, please no..."

A sharp sting on the back of my neck was followed by a cold rush through my veins. "What was that? Are you serious?"

And the world went black.

**

The dream wouldn't fade. As I struggled to wake up, my brain felt like it was swimming in thick, sticky blood. Where was I?

I heard murmurs and a rumble beneath me. Was I in a car? My body felt heavy, and my limbs were like cement. I couldn't open my eyes.

Then I remembered. The wall, Ravazzani, the needle. Shit! He drugged me. What a idiot.

I focused on my breathing and forced the drugs out of my system. I needed to fight whatever was happening to me.

"Good. You're awake."

I would have jumped if I could move my limbs. He'd been watching me while I slept? Just my luck to be kidnapped by a lunatic and a murderer. Excellent.

I was on a mattress, the sheets crisp and cold beneath me.

"You... kidnapped me," I forced out. "And drugged me."

Large fingers pushed the hair away from my face. "I retrieved my son's bride by any means necessary. Consider it a warning to you."

A small shiver ran through me. None of this made sense. Ravazzani could choose any woman to marry his son, and most would probably go willingly. "Why me?"

"You don't know? You and your sisters are legendary. Your mother was very famous. Tales of her daughters have been spread all over the world."

I swallowed against my dry throat. My mother didn't want this for me, for any of her daughters. Have your own life, Frankie, and never give it up for any man.

Blinking, I finally opened my eyelids. Ravazzani's handsome face filled my vision, his lips twisted into a smug smile as if I were a joke. As if my resistance were just a laugh. I held his gaze firmly. "I will never marry your son."

The smile fell instantly. "Never is a long time, Francesca, and don't forget, you're at my mercy. You would be wise not to make an enemy of me."

The threat rolled so easily off his tongue, and I didn't doubt him for a second. But even if he tried to break me, tried to force me into a marriage I didn't want, I would never stop resisting. "What are you going to do, threaten to shoot me? Torture me?"

"That depends on you, my dear. Because if you refuse, I will consider the debt unsettled. I will be forced to retaliate against your family. Is that what you want?"

"You won't hurt my sisters."

A dark brown eyebrow raised. "No?"

We stared at each other, and I tried to see inside his head, to figure out if he was bluffing. I couldn't tell. The man was good at hiding his thoughts. But even if he promised not to hurt Emma and Gia, he might kill my father. "What does your wife think of you kidnapping a woman to marry your son?"

"My wife died many years ago."

A lump formed in my stomach. Had he killed her? Or was she killed by a rival family? The mafia was violent and cruel, and that's why my mother had tried to shield us from it. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

Avoiding my gaze, he stood and straightened his cuffs. "It was a long time ago. Giulio is my only son, so he will have the best wife."

"And what if I don't marry him?"

"Don't make me answer that, Francesca." He walked to the door. "Two hours before we land. You should get some sleep."

He had much to learn about kidnapping if he thought I could sleep now. "I need a bathroom and my bag."

"That way," he pointed to a small door at the back of the room. "I'll have the hostess bring a tray. I'm sure you're hungry."

I wasn't about to thank him, so I repeated, "And my bag."

"You won't get your things back until I think you're cooperating."

I stared at him, trying to bore holes into his skin with my eyes. "There are people who will worry about me. I need some way for them to know I'm okay."

"You mean David?" He scoffed, sending a chilling wave of fear through me. "He's not worried, Francesca. You don't matter to him anymore."

“Did you... kill him?”

He had the audacity to look down his nose at me. "You watch too much American television."

At the door, he stopped and pinned me with a dark, frightening look that sent shivers down to my toes. There was no warmth, no sympathy in it. Just a man always used to getting what he wanted. "He's alive and well, for now, but you won't see him again."

I waited until he disappeared. I jumped out of bed and started searching. There had to be something in the room or the bathroom I could use to defend myself as soon as we landed. Dad had reluctantly allowed us to take self-defense classes, and the instructor had said many common objects could be used as weapons.

The bathroom yielded nothing. The medicine cabinet was empty, and the shower held only plastic bottles. I quickly used the facilities and washed my face, then found a tray waiting for me on the bed in the other room. I ate, knowing that a hunger strike would only weaken me, and I had to keep my strength up for when we landed. Unfortunately, the utensils were plastic, as was the wine glass and the water bottle.

I continued to search. The table held nothing but blank paper, while the nightstand had nothing but condoms. Extra-large, naturally. Disgusted, I slammed the drawer shut and then crouched to check under the bed.

Hidden in the carpet along the wall, I found it. A pen. I picked it up and put it in the pocket of my jeans.

As a weapon, it wasn't much, but I just had to wait for the right opportunity to use it.