Her Dad’s Best Friend

Chapter 62

Another laugh. "I already have."

My phone buzzes. He's already hung up the phone.

I dial a number. "Mario, I need you to round up as many men as we can find. We're going to rescue

Kelly."

"Yes, sir."

Mario doesn't need exact orders. He knows that he'll meet me downstairs. He knows that she's been

taken.

I kicked her out because I hadn't trusted her. And now she is in the hands of someone who only wanted

to use her against me. If I got the chance soon, I would apologize for placing her in this situation. It

seems like I can’t help but put her in danger time and again.

I have to choose between keeping my position as the head of the Genovese family and saving her. The

men I take with me today will know what happened. They will whisper it to the rest. And they'll think that

I'm not strong enough to be their leader.

It's a good trap. Too bad I'll turn everything around on him. He doesn’t know what I have waiting for

him. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Prison Cell

Kelly

"Drink some water," a sweet voice says.

"Not thirsty," I mutter, even though my mouth feels like the Sahara.

"Come, now, it's not so bad. You have to eat or drink something." I'd woken up an hour ago with a

headache and a growling stomach. There'd been a tray of food next to me, along with the lady whose

name I still do not know, but I didn't want to touch it. The guys who'd drugged me and brought me here

would stoop to poisoning my food.

"Not thirsty." I curl into a ball.

There's a soft thunk as she puts down the water. "I'll leave it here for you, then." She leaves. The soft

thud of the lock as it slides home reminds me that she's not my caregiver. She's my captor, one of

them, and I know better than to drink from her cup. I uncurl from my position and look around.

There's a small restroom next to my bedroom. No windows. No glass. There's no mirror in here, but I

can already imagine myself with my hair disheveled. My clothes feel sweaty and gross, but there's

nothing else for me to change into.

I splash water on my face and drink from my hands. She's right. I do need to drink something. My

stomach would prefer something other than water, but tap water is the best I'm going to be able to do

right now.

There are no eating utensils on the tray. It's just a bowl of couscous and a small wooden cup of water.

How on earth did I end up here? Iacopo threw me out, so I'm not valuable at all. Whatever game

they're playing, they've taken the wrong hostage.

I find a plastic comb in a drawer, so I yank it through my hair, even though I knew it'll just make

everything worse. It hurst, but it gives me something to do.

I go back into my room. There's a small closet that's totally bare. My bed has sheets but no comforter.

The door doesn't have a handle on this side.

There are no openings at all in this room. It's clearly a prison cell, a fancy one. But the quality of my

surroundings mean that they think I matter.

I don't know what I can do here. At least my hands are free. There's nowhere for me to go. The lady

who came in with the water spoke to me like she wanted to be nice, but it's just an act.

I dump the water into the sink and rinse out the glass two times before I use it to drink even more

water. I curl up into a ball on the bed and try to ignore my stomach.

When I wake up, the lights are still on. Right. I'm not at home. And there's still a tray of cold rice. Joy.

I lean over and sniff it. It doesn't seem poisonous or drugged, but if it were, would it matter? If they

wanted to drug me while they kept me here, there's nothing that I can do to stop them. I'm hungry. I

know that they're counting on me breaking and eating it.

I eat a few grains of rice from the edge. My stomach roars to life, reminding me that I haven't eaten in a

while.

I’m so hungry that my stomach hurts. I feel hollow inside. Even if it’s drugged, what harm will it do to

eat it? It’s not like I can get out anyway.

I eat a few more grains of rice. My stomach approves of the food. I don’t eat all of it, but I eat enough to

make my stomach quieter.

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