Kidnapped By The Italian Mafia

"So, how was it?"

Henri and I were sitting at a round table in the cafeteria enjoying hot lasagne with iced fruit tea and the view of a lake and green pastures when Claudette found us again. She looked more alive than before as she joined us at the table carrying a plate and drink of her own.

I tucked my hair behind my ear while turning my head to flash her my brand new totally cute hearing aid, which had been given to me right after leaving the clinic. The doctor who assisted me instructed someone to take us somewhere else in the building for a fitting. I didn't even have time to be amazed by the lab because someone was immediately thrusting little devices into my hands and asking which one I liked best.

"Oh my god, are you deaf?" Claudette's eyes widened and she subconsciously touched her own ears. None of us had our buds in now.

"Mostly. It's just this ear." Once I'd made peace with the situation, which happened fairly quickly, I didn't mind it so much. It could have, and would have been worse. "Thank you for bringing us here."

"F.u.c.k thank you, Alistair is going to have my head!" Her voice had reduced to a squeak. "Your father is going to have my head! Shit."

"Who?" I frowned at her.

"Me." A manly voice drew my eyes behind her. A large man, undoubtedly French, was standing there with a charming smile. "Hello, Miss VanBurren."

"Hello… do we know each other?" Confused, Henri and I met eyes, but he looked half as surprised as I was.

"I know you. I've been following your case for a while. Interesting choices you make." He held out his hand and I shook it. "I'm sorry about your ear."

"It's fine." I tapped my earlobe. "I can hear perfectly with this. Maybe even better than before!"

"Always the optimist!" Alistair laughed and placed a large hand on Claudette's shoulder. She, on the other hand, did not look so jolly. "Please, allow me to join you."

"S'il te plaît." Motioning toward an empty chair with my chin, I watched carefully as he sat down with his own lunch. "So… how do you know me or my situation?"

"I know your father from a long time ago," he responded cryptically, as if that answered my question. Right now, I was wondering whether he was referring to me as Montenegro or pretending to go along with the VanBurren storyline for the sake of prying ears.

"I didn't know my father had friends in this part of France," I replied just as cryptically. If he wanted to test the waters, so would I. "He never mentioned you."

"He doesn't know me. I know him." Alistair smirked at me and I almost dropped from my chair. My god, was he hot. How old was this man? "I know everyone."

"So what, are you like a capo?" My eyebrow raised of its own accord. "He would know you."

"He doesn't."

My eyes scanned him carefully. He didn't have hostile posture, but the look in his eyes was dangerous. I didn't like it. We didn't have our weapons on us right now.

"Who is this man, Claudette?" Already my hands were tensing in preparation for the moment I'd have to knock a bitch out.

"He's my boss, the head of our Agency. Alistair Bordeaux."

I squinted. "Any relation to Jean-Louis?"

"He's my nephew." Alistair nodded. "And this lovely lady's fiancé, if he has the balls."

Claudette blushed, but said nothing. Now I understood the whole family business dynamic. Could I trust this man? No. I couldn't trust anyone. I wasn't in a position to. My life had just been attempted on consecutively.

"What do you want from me?" I cut to the chase. "Why am I here?"

"That's an interesting thing to ask. Why would I want anything from you?"

"Because I'm useful? I know things."

"You're not useful to me. I know everything you know." The arrogant prick had the audacity to blink at me. I almost reached across the table and smacked him.

"Everything?"

"Everything. And then some."

I sighed in defeat, almost ready to call my own bluff and give this up. My one of my best friends was assaulted, my butler was shot, I was almost killed, and my arch nemesis was a good kisser. Could my life get any worse?

"I'm feeling very tired. My butler and I would like to retire to a hotel." Hurriedly, I prepared to stand up from my seat and bid these crazy people goodbye. "Thank you for your service."

"Oh, we can put you up in one of our—"

"No need." I cut Claudette off in a clipped tone. I wasn't going to stay in a room where possibly everything was bugged. "We can find our own accommodations. Thanks again for all your help."

"Wait, are you sure? whoever did this is still out there, they won't hesitate to try and kill you aga—"

"I'm serious, I'll take care of it. Thank you. Come, Henri." I ordered my butler, as per usual, before I stopped short and turned around to whisper to him. "Unless you want to stay?"

"Non, I follow you." He replied without hesitation. Secretly relieved and overjoyed, I gave him a simple nod of approval before turning to walk out again.

My phone was bust and I wasn't going to leave it here for people to look through without my presence, so we would have to catch a taxi the old fashioned way. By standing at the curb and waiting.

About twelve minutes later, I pulled out cash from the wallet in my back pocket and handed it to the chauffeur. "Merci beaucoup."

"You realise we have nothing to wear, yes?" Henri was directly speaking to me again. "We barely have the clothes on our bodies."

"Yes, I understand. That's why we have money and a hotel in the middle of the shopping district, Henri. New everything." My phone was fried so I couldn't exactly check my balance and calculate how much I would spend, but I knew there was enough for me to throw away a couple hundred thousand comfortably before I had to save for my next move.

He didn't say another word as I stepped toward the building, holding my hands up to push through the glass door.

"Bonjour, bienvenue à Le Avenue. Vous sont deux?" The front desk lady greeted us warmly, smile plastered and completely unmoving.

"Oui, mon fiancé et moi." I bit back my smirk at Henri's reaction. Taken aback was an understatement here.

"Your what?"

"My betrothed." I clarified, just in case he needed to hear it in English too. "Smile, darling."

He glared at me during the rest of the reservation process. When the time came to pay, I pulled out my trusty credit card and expect to not make a fool of myself.

"What the f.u.c.k do you mean my card was decl—try this one." I pulled out another card and handed it over. That one was also declined.

Unbelievable. Both my black cards had been declined? They were black cards, for gods sake!

"Madame," Henri pulled on my elbow a little bit. "Could it be that when Claudette's device fried our phones, it fried your cards too? It was an electromagnetic explosion, oui?"

Oh shit, he was right!

"Oh my god, okay, f.u.c.k this." I turned to tell the front desk lady to hold our reservations while we checked in with our bank for the funds. She happily, and nonjudgmentally, agreed, and we were off.

There was only a block's distance between the bank and the hotel, so we were there in no time at all.

I made a quick check of my balance and withdrew enough cash to make my c.h.e.s.t look seven cup sizes bigger, before asking someone for a new card because mine had been in contact with a magnet.

While the new card was in process, I was given an ATM card so that I could withdraw cash to pay with wherever I was. So attentive, the French were.

With my hands bulging in cash, we returned to the hotel and completed the check-in process. The front desk lady handed us our key, and reminded us that room service was twenty-four hours a day, but their restaurant services were from six in the morning to ten at night.

I didn't really know why she was telling us this, but we took the info with a grain of salt and disappeared into the elevator.

"I could kill for some new shoes right now." My complaining came instigated by the tension in the arch of my foot. These boots were not supportive at all, and they weren't even high heels. "Louboutins have made me feel better."

"Hmm." Henri was back to not talking to me, I supposed. I wouldn't force him to speak with me, although it would've been nice to hear more out of his mouth than a simple grunt.

"Who do you suppose is trying to kill me?" My lips gathered as a sour expression took over my face, and I was powerless in my attempts to conceal it. I'd run through every viable option in my head, but the facts were, I wasn't smart enough to figure it out. "I think it's Alfonso Quidiaro."

"He doesn't know you."

"To my knowledge. I could be wrong. It could be Marco himself. Or my father."

"Your father?" Henri blinked down at me. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, I'm getting used to the possibility just in case. So nothing catches me off guard." I couldn't afford any surprises. Not now, not ever.

The only thing I knew now, given the shadows following me around, is that we were being watched, and without a shadow of a doubt, I knew I'd be getting an attempt on my life again, and soon.