My captor

CHAPTER 6

A gasp tears out of my throat as I stagger back.

"You're- oh god." My hands dig into my hair. "You're that guy. I can't— why'd you kidnap me?" I ask, my voice desperate for answers. Tears threaten to fall but I swallow them down.

No. I will not cry. No.

He takes a step close as I take one back. A single tear falls down but I wipe it off aggressively. Something passes over his face before it's gone. So fast that it could've been my imagination.

As he takes another step close, I take another back. I keep taking steps back until I'm against the wall and he's right in front of me.

The wall and him trapping me.

"Stay away," I command, my voice stern. I feel grateful that it didn't break.

"Your father sent his man to my city so I took his daughter with me. He was selling drugs in my city. We had a treaty that the Irish mafia won't invade into New York but your father broke it, darling. You'll have to pay for it now."

"Why the fuck do I have to pay for it?! I'm not even part of the fucking mafia!" I scream as I throw my fists at his chest as hard as possible but he doesn't even budge.

He makes a tsk sound. "Everyone born in a Mafia's family is part of the mafia."

I shake my head. "Not me."

He signs softly. "You really thought your father had let you go and gave you your freedom? No. He kept tabs on you, who you hung out with, who you talked with. Especially after you came to New York without his permission. And next month, he was going to marry you off to some 60 year old for an alliance to take me down."

No. It can't be. He won't do so. Author wouldn't have let him do so. Oh god. Did Author know? Did Mother know?

Every conversation I have had on my phone, every text I have ever sent. All the texts with my previous boyfriends. My father had seen it all but why didn't he ever pointed it out?

Fuck. I can't believe this. I shake my head in denial as I look up at him. His gaze is fixed on me.

I don't know what to make of this guy in front of me. I've tried to find him for five years now. Five fucking years and never, never had I ever found even a small thing to lead me to him.

It was like he didn't exist.

Ironic how I knew him all along but didn't know him at the same time.

Now I think back to the day I met him, I remember how those eyes had been red and puffy. As if he'd been crying. But he put on his sunglasses and moved away to a shadier part so fast that I couldn't recognise him right away when I saw him after all these years.

The voice that day had been low but thicker. Today it is smooth, nothing like that day.

"Is this what you had meant by saying we'd meet again?" I question, my voice holding a bitter tone.

He small smile formed on his mouth. "Far from it."

Slowly he takes a step back. "Come on. I'll show you the room you will be staying in." He says, changing the topic and not leaving any room for me to reply as he turns around to leave the bathroom.

Taking my clothes from the counter near the sink, I walk behind him. For a second there I forget how my feet are hurt and walk normally before a strangled sound leaves my throat, making Matteo turn.

Something near concern flashes in his eyes. He move towards me and—surprise, surprise—takes me into his arms.

"Put me down," I protest.