Page 26 of Trapped
Ivan’s grin widened. “Then you’ll be on your own. And believe me, Dimitri’s men are already circling. It’s only a matter of time before they get you.”
I leaned in, close enough that I could smell his sweat mixed with cheap cologne. The intimacy of the space made my skin prickle, but I forced myself to hold his gaze.
“I’m not snitching on Santino.”
His face darkened, his hand twitching as if he wanted to strike me again. “You have until the end of the week. Either you cooperate, or Dimitri gets a very interesting call.”
The car stopped, and the doors unlocked.
I opened it and spilled onto the street as the Mercedes sped off.
I got home and poured a drink.
Fire slipped down my throat. I needed to kill Ivan.Son of a bitch. Bastard. Gangster flunky. I ripped open the fridge, staring at a Styrofoam box filled with leftovers. I grabbed it, barely tasting its contents, and then washed it down with vodka.
Growing up in Providence, I’d never been more than a pawn. Dad didn’t see me as his child, just another asset. Mom died when I was little, and the woman he replaced her with treated me like a rival for my father’s affection.
He always picked her. Love was a transaction, and I didn’t have enough to buy it. My only friend was Luca, a boy I’d met when I was ten.
When I turned twenty-three, Dad handed me over to Dimitri, a monster who wore cruelty as easily as his Brioni suits. Running away wasn’t just about escaping a bad marriage. Luca said it was more about breaking free from a life that never belonged to me. Boston was supposed to be different, but here I was, still haunted by the men who tried to own me.
The urge to obliterate myself yanked at my navel. I wanted to smash all the glass in my apartment, but I had things to do.
I moved to the kitchen table, where a stack of sketches for Retro Rose Boutique awaited my attention. The boutique was my escape from my dad’s violent world, and I wouldn’t let anything derail my plans.
I pulled out my laptop and opened a message from my interior designer, Claudia. She’d sent mock-ups for the boutique’s layout, each design more beautiful than the last. I clicked through them, making notes on what I liked and what needed tweaking. The vintage aesthetic I envisioned was coming to life.
The next email was from a potential supplier, confirming the availability of vintage pieces I’d been eyeing for months. A smile tugged at my lips as I replied. Every small victory in setting up the boutique felt like a step toward something normal.
As I worked, my thoughts drifted back to the encounter with Ivan. Adrenaline still throttled my veins. I wouldn’t let fear dictate my actions. Retro Rose Boutique was my future.
I picked up my phone and texted Claudia.
Just reviewed the designs. They look fantastic, but I have a few suggestions. Can we meet tomorrow to discuss them?
As we set up a meeting, I breathed easier. No matter what happened, I’d see this through. Hanging up, I started organizing the paperwork: invoices for merchandise, and contracts with suppliers. I ordered a grilled chicken salad for dinner and wolfed it down.
My phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen.
Santino
How are you?
Answer me.
The phone’s screen felt like the only light in a freefall into hell.
I’m good. <3
What about you, handsome?
Santino
Still out.
Ooh. Handling business or causing trouble?