Kidnapped By The Italian Mafia

"Miss VanBurren, someone is here to see you about the bartending position." Dominico drew my attention away from the computer monitor when he walked into my office, all composure and slick hair.

In the six months since our debut of the membership club Cinque, business had been booming in a way that I never thought possible, given the short amount of time we'd been up and running.

My new employees were fitting right in, each of them working earnestly to earn their freedom. I felt so proud. Also, the job Marco had assigned me to do was going smoothly, and from the two shipments were had received, millions worth of product had been distributed and sold, as promised.

Speaking of, Marco had a big hand to play in the club's success, because with every success I handed him, he gave me back customers and money in bounty. The one thing he hadn't given me, or more like I hadn't taken, was Lina.

Francesca was beginning to question my motives for wanting to have that woman by my side, but I didn't care about my aunt's preconceptions. Lina was essential to me in that she knew Marco personally for much longer than I did, and because her late husband had dealings with him, she knew of those too. She could help fortify my strategy.

If only I could find her. I was inclined to believe Marco had killed her by now.

"I'll be right out. Where is the applicant?" Eyeing that my doc.u.ments were saved to my computers hard drive for precaution, I minimized the tab and locked the monitor with two factor authentication for security.

"Waiting in the lobby." Dominico stepped his big body aside and blinked down at his tablet. "I'm not sure they're what you're expecting."

"Yes."

"Then I expect nothing more." I reached for the door to my work space and paused, squinting at him. "When's my check-in with monsieur DiBiancci again?"

"In two days, he's coming here for a rundown."

"Schedule a room at the best hotel in town for him."

Now, here was the thing. I hadn't seen Marco in months, because unbeknownst to me, he had retired to Italy in an attempt to free his family. I had to give the Italian criminal justice system credit, because they were adamant to keep the DiBiancci's locked up.

Not that I minded.

"Bonjour, je suis Isabella VanBurren, the manager of this club." I walked into the lobby with an outstretched hand, ready to greet the stranger that was applying to be the bartender. "I understand you are here to apply for the position of bartend—"

I stopped short when the person raised their head to look at me, and almost whirled around to walk right back into my office.

"Claudette!?"

"Très bien, merci. What are you doing here?" Surely someone as glamorous as Claudette wouldn't be here to fill the bartending job I posted.

"Are you not happy to see me?" She pouted, pushing out a plump lip that made her razor sharp cheekbones look like a deadly weapon. She was a stunning woman, nobody could deny. "I'm hurt."

"Désolée, I am simply very surprised. I did not expect to see you in the club!"

"Beautiful building, by the way." She looked around and nodded her approval. "Tastefully decorated. I especially enjoy the weapons hidden in the walls. It gives the place a cozy vibe."

If my eyebrows were defying my botox by being high on my forehead, they were surely above my hairline now. I might have considered Claudette a friend, but nobody this intuitive could be trusted. "Who are you?"

"No need to be alarmed, I am here to help you. You are in grave danger, especially now with your new dealings." She placed her hands on her slender h.i.p.s. "You must trust me."

"So you are not a supermodel?"

"Non, I am a supermodel."

"But how can a supermodel help me?"

"And how does a supermodel know to detect invisible weapons?"

"I am a model, but I am also not a model. The same way you are Isabella VanBurren but are also not Isabella VanBurren." Without questioning anything further, I slammed my fist to the wall and pulled a gun from the secret compartment that popped out, aiming it to her forehead at the same time I c.o.c.ked the safety.

"Who are you?"

She looked at the barrel and raised her hands, even though she didn't look surprised. "We have much to discuss, mon amie."

"No more endearments until you tell me who you are, and who you work for."

"Promise not to shoot?" She hesitated a bit and s.u.c.k.e.d on her bottom lip before continuing. "I have a runway show this weekend."

"I don't think twice when I want to kill somebody. Count your blessings."

"I didn't say you would kill me." Claudette frowned. "I just said you shouldn't shoot me."

"I don't take prisoners. Sit down and talk."

"We can start with who you work for." Following her lead, I sat down and crossed my legs, keeping the armed hand on top of my knee and pointed at her. "And maybe how you know me."

"Oh we have been tracking you for a while, actually. The daughter of The Blood King goes missing and suddenly everyone is offering their services for bounty." She waved her hand as if to say 'comme ci comme ça'. "Naturally, we wanted in on the action."

"So you were tracking me for a bounty from my father?"

"Oh no, we don't need petty cash." She waved her hand at me. "We kept tabs on you for your own interest."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Jean-Louis and I, The Agency, so and so."

"Jean-Louis is also… whatever you are?"

"A secret agent, oui. It is a family business so naturally—" I stared at her with wide, disgusted eyes, trying to wrap my head around what she had just said. "Non non, nothing like that! He is part of the family, I am simply employed by them. He and I are not family, we are dating for goodness sakes!"

"The French have a reputation…" I trailed off, not exactly wanting to point the finger when all of Europe was tainted with the brand of i.n.c.e.s.t. "Why isn't he here?"

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Roughly a year…" she counted on her fingers quickly and nodded. "Oui, un ans."

"So you were trailing me even before I got kidnapped? Does my father know about this?"

"We were not trailing you, we were trailing Marco DiBiancci. Our sights were set on you when he made moves to take you."

"Why?"

"We believe you'd win in a show of power. The DiBiancci's might be bloodthirsty, but your family has more value in tactic."

She wasn't wrong there…

"So why didn't you rescue me, then?"

"We were going to send someone, but then you ran away." She squinted at me. "You made our job easier when you crossed into France, although that butler of yours made it impossible to install surveillance on your property. He left no precautions unattended."

"We have reason to believe there might be an attempt on your life," Claudette sighed. "If I'm working here, it allows me to guard you better."

"How can I trust you?" So many questions were running through my head, but I needed to make sure she wasn't lying before revealing any more of my ignorance.

"If we wanted your downfall, we would have caused it already." She deadpanned, weaving her fingers over her knees calmly. "I am not lying. You may verify if you wish, although I doubt you would find much. The Agency is top secret."

"Okay," I c.o.c.ked the safety back on and put the gun down, near reach but at a safe distance to prevent any accidents. "Why help me, though? Shouldn't your agency be looking to bring criminals like us to justice?"

"Oh non, we don't do that. Justice is a forsaken cause that bends to the will of the strongest. We fight for the winning side and right now that is you. I may not know your motives, but I want to preserve your life."

"All I'm hearing is that my super secret operation isn't as super secret as I thought it was." Yet more proof that I was inadequate to take over the family business. "Why do so many people know of my plan?"

"Actually that's not true. We have no idea what you're planning, especially if you changed your face and went back to your kidnapper. It is a strange form of Stockholm syndrome."

My cheeks heat up and I had half a mind to pick up the gun again. The kiss with Marco instantly came to mind and I shook my head vigorously to shoo it off. "It's not Stockholm Syndrome. My reasons are my own."

"I respect that, it just makes no sense to basically start from the bottom when your dad is so willing to help you." She paused. "He stopped searching for you for a bit until your dead body popped up on the news."

"I kind of told him to stand down at first. Stupid move on my part, I should've kept my mouth shut." My mission would've been much easier. "What's that about an attempt on my life?"

"We don't know who's behind it but there has been a massive shift in the waves recently. If I were you, I would question my allies more closely."

I still needed more answers and I by far didn't trust her, but something she said resonated with me on a deeper level. A shift in the waves… even if I didn't trust her, I needed her. "You're hired."

"Wonderful! When can I start?" She clapped her hands and stood up along with me, eyeing the gun when I picked it up again.

"Coming Monday. I should have a uniform in for you by then." Eyeing her outfit again, I tried to discern where on earth she could be keeping any weapons if everything she was wearing was tight, therefore leaving no room for her to conceal anything. "Where do you hide your weapons, Claudette?"

"A supermodel never reveals her secrets." She winked at me and left the room, making sure to pick up her coat on the way out.

"What a strange woman…"