Kidnapped By The Italian Mafia

"You did what?!" Moira screeched in a panic, supported by her dipping her fingers frantically into a bowl of warm water, soap and baby oil. She insisted that if she did that for long enough, her acrylics would come off. I insisted that the lifehack videos she watched on social media were full of shit.

"Of all the stupid things ye've done, this is by far the WORST!" Connor, my possible husband-to-be, was red in the face, like he was having an allergic reaction to fire ants. His accent tripled in thickness to the point where he would just be yelling at me in Gaelic soon. "Henri tell her she's stupid!"

"Yeah go ahead Henri," I turned to my butler with a strained eyebrow. "Tell the woman who writes your checks that she's stupid."

Henri looked like he was biting his tongue for a moment before he turned to my friends with a constipated expression. "I'll sit this one out."

"That's what I thought."

"All you had was one job! One! Stay out of trouble. But what do you do? You go straight into trouble." Moira attempted to pull off her pinkie's acrylic nail and ended up popping a joint. "I mean seriously Kat, what were you thinking?!"

"That he wouldn't tell me anything unless I headed in!" Which was incredibly stupid of me. I could've just seduced the information out of him…

yikes.

"It was a last resort!"

"That just means he's one step closer to discovering your true identity and when he does that he will kill you!" Moira sounded like an angry chihuahua on heroin.

"Oh lighten up, M. Do you think Marco DiBiancci is the only one lining up to kill me?" That was such a ridiculous thought. My father had half the eastern hemisphere looking for his downfall. My life had been in danger for the past two decades. "I have at least twenty enemies and he's not the first one."

"No, but he's the only one available for this weekend." My best friend replied flatly, proving her point quite well. I didn't think my decision to join Marco was stupid, giving that it just opened the doors for me to play double agent. Maybe the way I was going about this was stupid, but the essence of the plan wasn't. Divide and conquer from the inside.

"You guys, I'm going to need your help with this." I could see it all playing out in my mind's eye. If we played our cards right, this would be epic. "You're loyal to my dad, right?"

"Of course we are." Connor and Moira agreed in unison. Up until now, Marco hadn't asked me to cease contact with them, and I suspected that he never would, because that would draw suspicion of some sort. He wanted me to intercept shipments, and that meant knowing when they would arrive.

"He's going to ask me to dig up information, I just know it." Lucky for him, I was a well of information. "You guys aren't supposed to know anything so I can pretend to steal information from you to give to him. I'll do the same to him."

"But miss, he's not going to give you any information until he trusts you, which may very well take years." Henri, always the voice of reason, reminded me. "Do you have a plan for that as well?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "I'll just steal it."

"Oh my god." Moira face palmed. "We're f.u.c.k.e.d."

"Don't be so dramatic, this is a good thing. I mean think about it, do any of us really know what we're doing?" They blinked at me. "You guys have been my right arm for so long... I can do it without you, I just don't want to. You can pull out at any moment."

"Does that include me?" My butler asked, ever the hopeful.

"No."

"I've always stuck by you but count me out for this." Moira shook her head. "This is a betrayal to your dad."

"Salvador's a grown man, he'll recover." I waved a dismissive hand at her. "Besides, I'm basically doing him a favour."

My phone rang from its charging dock with a loud shrill, scaring the life out of me. Everyone in the room collectively looked at it and grimaced, somehow already knowing it was Marco.

With tentative steps, I neared the device and pressed the answer button. "This is Isabella speaking!"

"Hello, Ms. VanBurren, this is Marco DiBiancci." I rolled my eyes at his stupid professionalism. Marco was a hot mess in my book. "I have some good news!"

"What might that be, monsieur DiBiancci?" Maybe my nails needed retouching. Some of the French in the 'French tip' was missing.

"Members for your gentleman's club." Okay, interesting. I put the phone on speaker. "I have a few people who are interested."

Well… it would be good to have some people on hand for the opening of the upper lounge.

"Wonderful, I will need their names and adresses." I motioned to Henri to take note of what Marco was about to say. "Please do not be stingy with the details."

"Actually, I think it would be better if you meet them in person first." Red flags. Many red flags. "Personal relationsh.i.p.s with the customer and all."

Lord help me, I was about to make another stupid choice. Everyone in the room was telling me not to do it, but I could only see the light at the end of the tunnel and I would be damned if that light was dimmed because of missed opportunity.

"Of course, why don't you bring them to the club tomorrow? Say, around one in the afternoon?"

"Of course, we can do lunch!" Oh f.u.c.k me, I hated the way he ate. Always cutting open every morsel of food like he was looking for a bomb. "See you tomorrow, Ms. VanBurren!"

As soon as I hung up the phone, Moira returned to her ceaseless complaining about how I could never plan a coup the normal way, by gathering my masses until I was stronger than my opponent then squashing them by ripping apart everything they loved.

"Henri, I need you in casual clothes tomorrow, we're having lunch with Marco." And there was that migraine again, like a crow pecking at the eyeballs of my conscience. "Moira do you still 'get nervous on aircrafts'?"