Kidnapped By The Italian Mafia

"Weeeee have a proooobleeeeemmm!" Moira sing songed in a panicky voice as she rushed out through the living room doors to greet me in the foyer. She grabbed my coat, which was halfway down my arms and shoved it back up to my shoulders. "A very very big prooobleeem!"

"What's going on?" I stopped her hands from fidgeting with my coat some more and glanced at my butler, who was on high alert beside me. His eyes were trained on the doors she'd come out of, and his hands were slowly inching towards his gun.

"It's Connor, your dad's going to kill him!" Moira started jumping on the tips of her toes, causing the heels of her boots to clack against the floor awkwardly. "Salvador is going to kill him, Kat!"

"Shit." I searched the pockets of my coat for my phone, thinking I'd have to send Francesca to my father on my behalf. "Where are they? I'll call Francesca."

"Katarina, blood isn't going to wash out of that white sofa you insisted on buying." Moira looked like she was on the verge of tears. "You need to hide!"

"WHAT?!" I stared at her with wide eyes, glancing from the living room to her. My best friend slapped her hand over my mouth to try and keep me quiet, but I removed it immediately. "He's here?!"

"Shut up!" She started pushing me back towards the door. "You need to leave!"

"Where's our security?!" I whisper yelled. The place had at least four security guards in place when I had left with Henri earlier that morning.

"One of them was working for him, he pulled everyone out right before Salvador came in with his goons. He's got a gun to Connor's head and he's looking for you, you have to go!"

"Not another step." My father's familiar voice drew my attention toward the doors separating the living room from the foyer. He had his gun raised toward the back of Moira's head, and panic began to ensue when it dawned on me how this was all going to play out.

"Are you Isabella VanBurren?" He narrowed his brown eyes at me and there wasn't an ounce of mercy anywhere on his expression. I could either lie and get my friends killed, or try and cool him down. Either way, there was a 50-50 chance that we'd all end up dead.

"Oui," I replied as coolly as I could. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I have it in my understanding that you're working in my daughter's club." He lowered the gun to his side, and I instantly felt sick. I would've rather he kept it raised, because now he was going to play Russian roulette with an automatic and all of us would be unlucky.

"Oui. I am her manager." From the corner of my eye, I could see Henri stare my father down, trying to read his movements and predict what the next draw was going to be. If push came to shove, I wanted him to keep my friends safe. I could hold my own against Salvador but they couldn't. Nobody knew met father like I did. "Why are you here?"

"Where is she?" Oh shit… what was I supposed to say to that? 'She's right here, it's me'? F.u.c.k, this day couldn't get any worse. "I'm giving you to the count of ten to tell me where she is."

Henri immediately jumped to action, drawing his gun in the blink of an eye and pointing it at my fathers head. Wide eyed, I glared at him in disbelief before taking a look at my dad and I realised why he'd done it. Salvador was pointing the gun at me.

"I don't know where she is." I tried, pathetically raising my hands to try and display innocence. "I know nothing."

"You're working with Marco DiBiancci, I know you took my daughter."

"What the f.u.c.k, how do you know about that?!" Flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. Both Henri and Moira gave me 'really?' looks, and I immediately felt embarrassed. Now I understood why he was attacking my friends instead of just coming to me.

"Désolée, Monsieur Montenegro, this is a big misunderstanding." Claudette would have to forgive me, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It was time to improvise. "Please, let us all put our weapons away and I will explain everything."

"I don't want you to explain, I want you to tell me where Katarina is." He snapped his fingers and in the next second, two of his goons, who I knew very well, came out with Connor held at gunpoint. The poor lad had his face bloodied, and I cringed when he stared at me as if to say 'be honest'.

Nothing was hurting Connor more than lying to my father unnecessarily to protect me. He was like part of the family, and our possible engagement meant that he and I were held to the same standard in my father's eyes. This was a direct betrayal.

"Tell me or he dies."

"There is really no need for violence, Monsieur Montenegro, I will tell you what I know. Everything." It was funny how Henri was pointing a gun at my dad, yet he went completely ignored. "Please, let him go."

"Kill him."

"NO!" I screamed and jumped forward without thinking, fully acting on instinct to take the bullet on Connor's behalf. The panic gripping at my throat turned into full blown confusion when the man holding him at gunpoint suddenly crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his temple.

Turning around to look at my butler, my eyes nearly popped out of my head when he swayed on his feet, then fell backwards towards the ground, causing his head to bounce once against the marble flooring before he went still.

There was a hole in his suit, and I watched, stupefied, as blood seeped out of it.

Salvador was looking at me coldly, a silent anger blazing in his eyes. After watching him for so long, I finally felt what it was like to be on the receiving end of his wrath, and I'd never felt so hopeless in my life.

I couldn't even say that I didn't recognise the man, because this was exactly who I'd looked up to. Even now, I felt admiration for him, a sick form of Stockholm Syndrome that came from years of conditioning to be a ruthless killer. I wanted to crawl into my fathers arms and tell him the truth, but I also felt angry.

He killed my butler. He killed Henri. He ruined my plans.

"I don't know where your daughter is but I'm trying to find her. I'm infiltrating the DiBiancci mafia to track her down and return her to you safe and sound." I looked at Moira, who was still staring at Henri's corpse. "I work for an agency that specialises in these things. We were trailing Marco DiBiancci for months before we noticed your daughter's disappearance. I was sent to track her down."

"What agency?"

"The Agency…" Salvador gave me a look like he was fed up with my bullshit, and I earnestly prayed to the heavens that he'd buy it. "I'm serious, that's the name. We work for the highest bidder, this isn't a personal matter."

"Who's paying you to find her?" Salvador narrowed his eyes at me again, and I could see my life flashing in his eyes. "I didn't hire anyone from any agency."

"A man named Alfonso Quidiaro hired me." There I was again, pulling that name out of my a.s.s like I knew what the f.u.c.k I was talking about. What possessed me to sing it like this? Oh. Right. My dead butler. "I swear to you, Monsieur Montenegro, I am not your enemy."

Salvador stared down at me like he didn't believe me, but his face had darkened considerably from the ice cold anger he'd presented previously. He recognised the name. It caught his attention enough to make him reconsider his courses of action.

"We thought she was taken by the chinese mafia. A recent surge in the disappearances of women between the ages of nineteen and twenty-six lead many of my colleagues to find clues that they'd been taken to east asia."

"Why?"

"An increase of demand in opium and visual stimulation. Foreign p.r.o.s.t.i.t.u.t.es can be an indulgence for rich politicians, especially if they aren't there of their own free will." I blinked down at the floor and tried to think of something else to say. "Children are highly requested too."

Salvador said nothing, but he looked at Moira, who hadn't budged an inch from where she had stood before I moved out of her way. Her eyes were trained on Henri, and I could practically smell the stress rolling off of her.

"I can provide proof of my research if you don't believe me."

Again, he said nothing. Rather than answer me, he pocketed his gun and headed for the front door, leaving like nothing had happened. His goons followed after him, and gave me a warning look, but nothing else was said in the room until the door clicked shut.

Immediately, I crumbled to my knees and crawled over to Henri, trying to tear open his suit so I could try and see if he could be revived. Blood stained my hands as it seeped through his shirt, and I couldn't stop my fingers from shaking when I saw the pool beneath my knees.

My eyes zeroed in on the tear in his skin, and pressing the pads of my fingers to his neck, I was immensely relieved to find his pulse. Despite the blood, it was still strong.

"I don't think any vital organs are damaged. He definitely doesn't have a punctured artery."

With the strength that I had left, I ripped off one of Henri's sleeves and bunched it up so I could apply pressure on his wound until help came.