3: Taken Captive

"I'll save you from an awful marriage and assist you in destroying the man you so clearly despise, but in return, you will be mine in every way."

I was not shocked by his audacious words; rather, I was appalled and disgusted. "You must be kidding."

"Not in the slightest. Rest assured, what you would go through with Ernesto... let's just say, being seen in public would become quite challenging."

"You're unbelievable."

"And I possess the key to your freedom," he declared firmly, his gaze unwavering, never blinking.

I contemplated his proposition. What I knew for certain was that there was no way I could go through with marrying Ernesto.

He was right; the mere thought made me cringe in disgust. Perhaps if I played along, pretended to cooperate with this man's absurdity, it might buy me some time, unless I could find a way to escape.

I weighed the different scenarios, attempting to rationalize them in my mind. I was a fighter, and I had to take a stand, even though fear trembled through my legs.

"Fine, I'm intrigued. I'll make a deal with you," I reluctantly agreed. He must have been out of his mind. I was well aware of how formidable the Satoris truly were. They would devour him and, in the process, annihilate my father.

"You've made a wise choice. We'll make excellent partners in business," he remarked, turning as if ready to leave.

The man in the impeccably tailored attire, with his dimpled chin and captivating eyes, had made a grave mistake. Swiftly, I aimed the gun at his head. "You heartless scoundrel. Whoever you are, you will pay for this."

"You've made a mistake, Madeline. Unfortunately, your defiance will come at a high cost. As I mentioned before, you're coming with me, and remember this — now, you belong entirely to me, to be handled as I see fit."

"Over my dead—" I never finished the sentence. I would forever remember the gun emerging from his pocket, the sharp sting of a dart piercing my neck, and then...

*

I groaned and stirred as I slowly emerged from sleep. The sounds around me were... strange. What was I hearing? I struggled to open my eyes, but they felt oppressively heavy.

Then, realization hit me, and it was terrifying. My head throbbed with pain, temples pounding as I distinguished the sound of birds chirping. Birds. That's what I was hearing.

A rush of understanding surged through me, a thought that filled me with dread. The moment I attempted to lift my head, excruciating pain shot through me, and I involuntarily doubled over.

The agony was blinding, and the nausea overwhelming. I managed to roll onto my side, my head hanging over the surface I was lying on. Even in my foggy state, I noticed a strategically placed bucket on the floor. As I retched, the cheerful, carefree songs of the birds continued.

After dry heaving for what felt like an eternity, I winced and leaned back, finally able to focus on the ceiling above me. The spinning of the ceiling fan nearly caused another wave of nausea. I closed my eyes, trying to piece together my fragmented memories, but very little came to mind.

Except for his face.

His stunning physique.

His twinkling eyes.

Damn it. What had I been thinking, and just who was this person who had abducted me? I recalled his chilling and demanding words. Did he truly believe I would allow him to lay a hand on me?

As if I had any other choice. It was as if I had struck a dangerous bargain with the devil, or at least that's what he believed.

Groaning, I wiped my mouth and summoned the strength to lower my gaze as far as I could bear. My attire had been changed. The dress had been replaced with shorts and a t-shirt.

"What the... God..." The despicable individual had completely undressed me. And where in the world was I? It had to be some kind of house.

I took a deep breath, attempting to suppress my nausea while surveying the room. It was simple, with just a bed and a dresser. The wooden floors offered no comfort, and although there was a window, my view was obscured from my position.

Then there was my wedding dress, meticulously hung on a padded hanger, serving as a stark reminder that this unscrupulous man had spared me from an impending disaster. I almost burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Was Ernesto actively searching for me? Were he and his henchmen scouring the city to find me? My intuition told me they were, if only to salvage his reputation among his mafia connections and, of course, his father.

I winced at the torment my father must be enduring. Something about this abduction felt disturbingly off-kilter. My kidnapper had hinted at collaboration. I repeated the same question in my mind as before. Who did he think he was?

Perhaps the real question was: How did hepossess crucial information about my family? I still couldn't place him, but my instincts were on high alert, filled with unease. He seemed strangely familiar.

I heard music emanating from somewhere, the melodious strains of a Spanish guitar. Someone was in the house. My throat was parched, and I could only manage a few whispered words.

"Help. Me. Please." Instantly, I recoiled, hissing and rubbing my eyes. I was being irrational.

I thought I heard footsteps and tensed up, terror coursing through me. I had been educated about the perils of various aspects of life, but being held captive was a unique kind of hell.

Struggling to rise from the bed, I only managed to stumble halfway, landing face-first against the bucket. Thankfully, my arm absorbed most of the impact, sending the pail clattering across the wooden floor. Another sickening realization struck me: my leg was shackled to the bed's frame.

"Damn."

The door creaked open slowly, and the same man sauntered in, even whistling as if this were just another day at the office, an essential part of his "business." Pushing myself up from the floor, I glared at him, etching every detail of his appearance into my memory. When he was eventually tracked down and brought to justice, I wanted to remember every aspect of this horrendous event.

"You're awake," he said softly, his eyes briefly flickering towards the bucket. "You'll need aspirin for that headache. Water for the hangover."