Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He handed me a passport, and I looked at it with curiosity. “That’s me,” I gasped.
“Yes. I had it made for you.”
“Is it real?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why are you giving it to me?”
“You will need it to get home,” he said. “You’ll have to get a flight and arrange to transport your things.” He indicated the building. “I’ll be in jail.”
I swallowed. “Right.”
“Can you drive a stick?”
“Um, no.”
“You’ll have to figure out how to get back to the estate. I’m sure one of the officers will escort you.”
“Oh.”
He scratched his chin. “You should have enough money in your account to cover the flight. You have a credit card you can use,” he mused out loud. “You’ll need a car to get to Naples. It’s less than two hours away. We flew into the airport there with my private jet, but my assets will be seized once I’m locked up, so I can’t help you. The language barrier will be an issue, but you’ll figure it out. You’re a smart woman.”
My heartbeat picked up, and sweat broke out along the back of my neck. I hadn’t thought about any of that.
He leaned his elbow on the door of the car, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Now, your cat. That could be a problem. I sort of smuggled her in, and I doubt you have papers with you. You may have to leave her. I’ll arrange to ship her back once I’m free.” He laughed suddenly. “Shit, I should call my legal team. They’ll need to get on this.”
The sweat beaded on my forehead. I had no idea how to hire a car. The limit on my credit card was five hundred dollars. I wasn’t sure that would cover a flight home. And I didn’t want to leave Roomba. Would it be totally rude to ask my kidnapper for the money?
A police officer came out of the building, walking toward us, and Dante climbed out of the car, shaking his hand. He indicated me in the passenger seat, and the officer frowned. They spoke in fast Italian, and I caught only a word or two. Bellissima was one. Infuriata, which I knew meant angry. The officer rubbed his chin, looking unhappy. “Kidnap?” he questioned in heavily accented English, looking at me.
This was my chance. I jumped from the car, running toward him. “Yes. I have been kidnapped.”
The officer looked between Dante and me. “What is ransom?” he asked.
“Oh.” I waved my hand. “He isn’t asking for a ransom.”
“She is priceless,” Dante murmured. “Look at her.”
“You have been, ah, mistreated?”
“Um, no. I have a lovely room, and he has been very kind. We had a picnic.”
The officer frowned as Dante translated. “You brought by force? Smuggled?”
I huffed out a long breath. “No, he brought me on his private jet. I slept the whole way—because he drugged me. He even brought my cat and has made friends with it!” My voice rose a little, and the officer looked confused. Dante handed him my passport, saying something. He studied it and tapped it on his palm as he questioned me.
“No hurt? No ransom? No force?”
“No. But he is using me! Abusing his power. Like a sex slave—but no sex,” I added. “We agreed. He wants me to bake him cakes plus sing and dance! He’s like a demented Phantom of the Opera with a sweet tooth. Using me!”
Dante bowed his head, covering his mouth. The officer said something, and Dante answered. There was more rapid-fire Italian, and the officer had the audacity to smile.
“Cakes?” he questioned.
Dante kissed his fingers. “Delicious. And a voice like an angel.” He smiled indulgently at me.
I tried not to blush at his words. Why was he being so sweet?
Dante said something else, using his hands, gesturing a lot. Then he held out his arms, wrists up, as if offering to allow the man to arrest him. The officer reached behind him, producing a pair of handcuffs. Dante looked resigned but stayed silent.
The uncomfortable feeling I had been fighting blossomed. My chest became tight.
He was actually going to let them arrest him? Take him away and put him in jail?
What had I done?
“Wait!” I yelled.
They glanced at me.
“Mistake. Error. I didn’t mean it. No arresting!” I said, squeezing between them. “I’m here. Happy to be here. It’s beautiful. No jail. No.” I shook my head. “My mistake.”
Dante wrapped his arm around my waist, drawing me back to his torso. He pressed a kiss to my head, and I awkwardly patted his arm. “All good.”
The officer looked down at me, then smiled.
“Not kidnapped?”
“No. Here of my own free will.”
“Not angry now?”
“Um, no.”
He said something to Dante, who laughed and responded to the other man. The officer held out my passport, and I took it. They shook hands, and the officer turned to go.
“Last chance,” Dante breathed.