Kidnapped By The Italian Mafia

"What did you say in there?" Henri prodded me about my conversation with Marco like a nosy old crone. He was following me back to the elevator with quick steps to match my own, so that he wouldn't miss any details.

"I asked him if we could use mules to distribute." The elevator was thankfully open, since someone got off just as we arrived to it.

"Mules? Like people?" Henri looked confused. "You don't believe in mules."

"Of course I'm not actually going to use mules, I just need him to run a green light so I can get more bodies on my side." I leaned into him so I could whisper. "With any luck, the plan will be rolling at high speeds soon."

"Already?" Henri looked at me, completely ignoring all my hair in his face. "You've only been doing this for six months. For all you know, this could be a trap set by Monsieur DiBiancci."

"Obviously it's a trap, Henri. He knows something about me, not necessarily that I am who I am, but something else. Nobody hires a club manager to buy and sell drugs throughout the whole of Europe just because they have 'potential'. That's what internsh.i.p.s are for, and this shit is not an internship. It's a high level job. My father wouldn't have trusted this position to even me."

That realisation made my c.h.e.s.t ache canonically. My father didn't trust me enough to give me such an easy job, and yet he had the nerve to call me his heiress. I was glad I hadn't reached out for his help.

"He observes me every chance he gets. It's like he's trying to match something. I don't really know what it is." The doors to the lift opened and we stepped out. "Is my face deflating?"

"No, but I was going to say you need a touch up. Mainly on your nose, your cheeks are fine." Henri poked my forehead. "More botox."

"It's possible, it causes your muscles to weaken. But this is a necessary evil and it won't be for much longer. How long since your last shots?" He held the doors open for me.

"Three months tomorrow." The atmosphere outside was quiet. The only sound heard was the cl.i.c.k.i.n.g of my heels since Henri managed to walk like a cat even though he was wearing steel toe shoes. "Marco said I nobody would accept me."

"What made him say that?" He held open the backseat car door for me.

"I said something about working my way up to replace him. He said nobody would ever accept that." Buckling in, I waited until Henri was in the drivers seat with the door closed before continuing. "He was talking to me as Isabella, though."

"Then it makes sense." Henri turned on the car and backed out of the parking space. "Aren't you going to take him down as Isabella, though?"

"Yes but then I'll reveal myself as Katarina. If everything goes according to plan, that is. Something could always go wrong."

"God forbid. We're off to the warehouse, right?"

"Yes."

I kept quiet after that, mind racing to come up with answers as to why I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something, and it had nothing to do with Marco. My fingernails were cl.i.c.k.i.n.g together, a nervous habit I'd adapted since I started wearing fake nails.

Sighing and running a hand over my forehead in an attempt to wipe away my fears didn't work as well as a glass of gin would have. My nerves were bundling more and more with every passing second, something that wasn't good for me because the movement of the car increasingly made my anxiety turn into motion sickness, and the ride to the warehouse was roughly an hour away.

I closed my eyes tightly and tried to focus on something else, like my conversation with Marco earlier. It was pretty arrogant of him to think that I couldn't replace him, but then again he had some valid points too. As Isabella, I couldn't do much other than be his helping hand.

As Katarina, however, I could do much more. I just hated that my reputation came from my fathers credit. From the looks of things, I would be forever in his shadow.

What I had to do here was pretty obvious.

"Henri, how long do you think it'll take to complete this mission?" I needed perspective here. Anything other than Moira's paranoia and Connor's lack of enthusiasm would do.

"I don't know, Miss." Henri locked eyes with me through the rearview. "How long does it take a snail to crawl through the Sahara?"

Just what the hell was I meant to say to that? Patience was a virtue I didn't have, but there was no other choice except to bide my time.

"This f.u.c.k.i.n.g sucks, I'm stuck in a square." I rolled my eyes and tried to resist stomping my feet. "I thought I had potential."

"You do have potential, but you're too stubborn to use the resources you already have."

Now it was Henri's turn to sigh. He probably rolled his eyes but I wasn't looking.

"Your father didn't work for a damn thing either and now look at him. You're not supposed to work for what you inherit. You earn it by being helpful."

"Helpful my a.s.s, I'm not trying to prove my worth to Salvador, I need to prove it to everyone else. Turkey only agreed to help because of who my father is, not because of Katarina herself. Once this is over, everyone will know me for me."

Henri sighed deeply, like he was tired of hearing the same thing over and over. "Yes, madame."