Chapter Nineteen

Delilah

I t'd been two days since Serafino had left me alone in his suite of rooms with nothing but room service to look forward to. But today I'd skipped breakfast and had yet to order lunch. I wasn't hungry, not with my anxiety rising every hour that I was alone and locked away.

He couldn't have known this was my worst nightmare. He'd paid for me to make him feel good, not for me to breakdown and bemoan my horrible childhood.

But I felt suffocated, hemmed in and all too alone.

I swallowed past my dry throat as the walls closed in around me. Not even the balcony fended off my phobia, where tall buildings invaded the skyline, invaded my space.

I rubbed my sweaty palms together, my whole body beginning to perspire. I released a jagged breath. I had to get out of here.

But I wouldn't ring Serafino, he had enough to deal with.

I picked up the in-room phone and rang straight through to reception. After a woman with a friendly voice answered, I said in a high-pitched voice, "This is Delilah. Could you please put me through to Jarrod?"

"Of course. One moment, please."

The three or four seconds it took for him to answer felt like a lifetime.

"Delilah," Jarrod said in a smooth, congenial voice. "What can I do for you?"

"I-I need to get out of here," I choked out.

"Out?" he repeated. His voice dropped with concern. "Is everything okay? I'm happy to take you anywhere you need to go."

"The nearest garden," I blabbered, my brain shutting down as panic clawed through me.

"I hear the Botanical Gardens are beautiful."

"Please," I said, voice cracking.

"Wait there. I'll come and get you."

I disconnected without answering. Every bit of my strength went into pushing back my panic attack. I did some deep breathing as I threw a cream cardigan over top of my black pantsuit, and pushed my feet into comfortable black ankle boots. Then grabbing the cell Serafino had given me, I sent him a text.

Feeling imprisoned. Have to get out of here. Jarrod taking me to Botanic Gardens.

I slipped the cell into my clutch bag just as the elevator dinged and Jarrod stepped into Serafino's abode.

I managed a tight smile and ignored the pitching of my stomach. Getting out into Mother Nature would be worth any silly dislike of this man.

Jarrod waited near the elevator, and for that at least, I was grateful. I didn't want his presence to sully the memories I had here with Serafino.

Like a panic attack isn't doing that already?

I hurried toward him and he cocked his head to the side before he said solicitously, "You don't look great, Del."

I frowned at the shortened name he'd given me. He was a stranger. He didn't get to call me by any other name. "I've been better. And please, call me Delilah."

He inclined his head and said, "Of course. Delilah." He stepped aside and allowed me to access the waiting elevator first. It wasn't until he followed me in that he reached out and clasped my shoulder. "You're going to be okay. Just take some deep breaths."

I hid a shudder but managed to nod before he released his clasp. I vaguely heard the beep of a returned text, but I ignored it. I was slowly suffocating inside the elevator and it took everything I had just to keep another round of panic at bay.

But Serafino clearly didn't like it when I disregarded his text.

Ring. Ring.

"Ignore it," Jarrod said, voice soothing. "Concentrate on staying calm and centering yourself."

"Easy for you to say," I said tightly.

"True," he conceded. "But I witnessed my mother suffer from panic attacks for many years. I know the signs."

It should have made me feel more comfortable, but there was nothing calming about being close to him. And there was definitely nothing centered about my cell going quiet. It wasn't until we stepped out into the casino's foyer that my panic marginally subsided.

"I have a car waiting for us outside," Jarrod said.

I nodded stiffly, my heels clicking across the mosaic floor as I hurried toward the huge sliding doors. An indoor fountain tinkled into a pool filled with koi, but I barely noticed. I was on a mission to get out of the casino as fast as possible.

"Jarrod? Miss? Is everything okay?"

"We're fine," Jarrod grunted. "Get back to your desk, Sally."

"Of course, sir ," she said in a cool voice.

I wasn't focused on the woman or her and Jarrod's strained work dynamic, I was focused only on getting out of the casino. I stepped outside, but had to suck in a strangled breath at the tall buildings looming over me like scary sentinels.

"Let's get you out of here," Jarrod said as he opened the passenger door and gestured for me to get in.

I climbed into the back seat as he slid in beside me and reached out to pat my knee as I clipped on my seatbelt. "You'll be fine."

Nausea swirled in my stomach. I hadn't had an anxiety attack this bad in years. Perhaps that was why I didn't register for a minute that the driver had stayed behind the wheel, the same driver who pulled away without asking where we wanted to go.

"How far away are we from the Botanic Gardens?" I croaked.

Jarrod smiled amiably. "Thirty minutes at most."

I fished my cell out of my clutch bag with shaky hands.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I've got a text." Not that it was any of his business.

I opened the message and read it with a shaky inhalation.

Don't go anywhere with Jarrod. Your instincts were right.

My cell rang and I answered the call with a shaky voice. "Serafino, I'm sorry. It's too late, I—"

A sharp prick in my neck cut off anymore words, my voice failing and my strength non-existent as my cell fell to the car's floor as if in slow motion. Darkness pressed down on me and I slumped forward. Then...nothing.

*

I woke with a sharp inhalation, instantly aware I was in the same car I'd been in earlier even before I cracked open my eyes. Except the ride was no longer smooth, I was getting jostled, the now one-lane road ahead rougher, the neighborhood seedier with rundown buildings and warehouses either side,

My pulse drummed louder in my ears. I remembered answering my phone after I'd read Serafino's text, then—

Fuck.

Understanding was an arrow straight through my consciousness even before I focused my gritty stare on the man sitting loose-limbed next to me, a gun sitting on his thigh, its muzzle pointed my way.

"I was beginning to think you were never going to wake." Jarrod smirked. "I didn't want you to miss seeing your own demise."

"Why would you want that?" I gritted. "What have I ever done to you?"

He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. "You've done nothing, and that's the crux of the problem. You fuck men like Serafino to get ahead, while hardworking soldiers like myself get overlooked. Every. Single. Time."

I blinked. "You're the director of the Agostino casino."

His lips flattened. "I want more." He patted his jacket pocket. "I want money. Prestige. Notoriety. To get that, I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago. I'm taking charge of my destiny and grabbing any opportunity with both hands."

"Do you really think you'll get away with kidnapping me? If Serafino doesn't kill you, the Irish mafia will dispose of you quicker than you can put your hand out for your blood money."

I noted the driver's cynical smirk. He clearly agreed with my theory. A pity Jarrod hadn't noticed. He had his eyes firmly on the prize, his tunnel vision making him blind to anything else.

"Serafino won't go near the Irish territory, not even for his favorite whore. As for the O'Malleys, I've delivered what— who —they wanted, and they'll generously reward me for it."

"They'll kill you for your trouble," I gritted. "Then they'll kill me."

If they didn't rape and torture me first. I shuddered, fear knotting my stomach as gorge rose in my throat.

Jarrod chuckled. "I've given them my loyalty and they'll honor that. As for you, I'm sorry to say you're just another innocent victim. If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure you won't be the last."

He wasn't going to listen to reason. Fine. I'd at least try to get some answers from him. "Why do the Irish mafia want me? I'm nothing to them. Nobody."

"That's true. You're nothing more than Serafino's whore. But even a blind man could see he cares about you. It's what makes this so...delightful. He's never cared about a woman until now. Soon enough he'll know what it feels like to lose someone special in his life."

It was my turn to laugh. "Serafino doesn't care about me. If I died it'd be no skin off his nose, he'd replace me with someone else."

I didn't believe that, not deep in my bones, he did care about me to a certain extent. But he didn't love me, he was incapable of that. The only people he truly loved were his family.

Would he miss me when I was dead and buried? Or would I be nothing more than a vague glimmer in his dark past? The idea made my breath catch, pain ripping through me like hot shards.

Jarrod shrugged. "Either way, I'll get what I want."

The driver slowed the car, then turned into a narrow laneway.

My hands fisted. "I don't suppose it matters to you that I'll die a horrific death."

"We all die one day," he said without a trace of remorse. "Some of us just die sooner rather than later."

If I'd ever wondered if Serafino had a conscience, I knew now that he did. He had it in spades compared to the monster beside me.

A few rays of afternoon sunlight managed to splash between two buildings and glint on the mesh gate ahead. It was slid open by an armed man in a dark suit, his hat shadowing his face.

The driver then edged the car forward through a makeshift lane, where shipping containers and machinery sat either side in macabre display, dirt and garbage built-up against metal and tires.

"Where are we?" I asked, my stomach crawling as though I had bugs digging and scratching inside it.

The driver looked into the rearview mirror. "Most of our hostages call this place hell, you can call it whatever you wish."

"Hell it is," I whispered.