Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Nia

I apply my lip gloss and give myself a final check. I've got on a cute fitted dress with tank straps and a skirt almost to the knees. It looks date worthy, but I can easily put the cardigan I've packed in my bag over it and be comfortable on a plane.

I grimace in the mirror.

Ghosting Gris isn't going to be the most fun thing I've ever done. I'm not attracted to the guy, but honestly, he's been nothing but polite.

And he hasn't mentioned my father once. It would be so much easier if he had.

I could dismiss him as an asshole.

But no, he's been a complete gentleman on our two group dates. Maybe he's gay and looking for a cover wife?

I cock my head. That might have been an interesting plan, but I've already invested in my current one.

And who knows how long a courtship like that would take and I don't have the time. Toni is planning for this other family to come visit so that I can meet the man he's planned for me to marry. Not happening.

I've bought myself a ticket to Ontario. From there, I'll pay cash to buy a small car and drive to Quebec. I don't have a license, but I convinced my cousin to give me a couple of driving lessons. Hopefully, they'll be enough.

In my bag is hair dye—I'm going brunette—and the bare essentials for toiletries and clothes.

Jess still thinks I'm going on a date so I couldn't pack too much. I did manage to stow another small bag in the bushes out back. I've got maybe three days' worth of clothes in there. I wish I could have brought more, but the bag had to be small enough to remain hidden and my purse has to appear to Jess, not like I'm running away, and more like I've finally developed a love of cosmetics.

It's believable. Most girls would develop a love of products dating a guy like Gris. Jess certainly would.

And she's the only reason I'm getting out tonight and she's the one who'll cover for me when I text her and tell her the date is going really well and I won't be home tonight.

Right on cue, she knocks on my door.

"Come in."

She opens it, looking a bit flushed in her cheeks, her eyes glassy. "You're good to head out the back. Meet Mike by the door in the kitchen."

Her blush deepens. Mike must be the guy she's blowing. Did she give him another to get me out tonight? That's way more altruistic than my sister usually behaves. I wonder what's really going on between them?

Does he know she's using him to go out with other guys? Does he care? "Thanks, Jess."

She nods. "Do me a favor and land this guy. They're going to be big players, and you'll set us both up if you do."

"Set us up?" But I'm starting to understand. She's got a vested interest .

She shrugs. "I'm not sure Dad is doing all that great. We need to find men who can sustain us."

I give a curt nod. I knew about Dad's finances, but I'm surprised she's paid enough attention to notice. Then again, it's one area she might be deeply vested. Not that I'm knocking my sister. She should understand what's about to happen to her and I sincerely hope she finds a way out before it does. Jess might be interested in being plastic but she's not a bad person. In fact, no one has done more for me. I wish I could tell her the truth. I'm so tired of it being between us.

I wish I could be different, a real sister instead of this frozen statue.

"Thanks for doing this, Jess. I really appreciate it."

She steps into the room. "You do it for me all the time. It's the least I can do. Besides," her gaze slides away, "I don't know what guy Dad's picked for you in Italy, but I know he won't be as hot as Gris."

She knows about that too? I reach for her hand, giving it a squeeze. I'd like to say more, tell her I love her, but I can't make the words come out.

I push up from my chair and cross to give her a hug. She hugs me back, squeezing me tight. "Go get him and get out of here. And I mean tonight and permanently."

I squeeze her one last time and then grab my bag, dashing out the door before I get confessional. Creeping my way down to the kitchen, I check every hall and doorway. Not that I need to bother.

It's a Saturday night and the house is empty. The guards on site are tasked with keeping us safe and keeping us locked away. Mike must not realize what my dad is capable of to be helping us like this. He prizes loyalty above all else.

Not that he's loyal to anyone. Not even family.

I make my way down the kitchen, the back door open. It's never open.

Stepping outside, I find a good-looking guard I'd never noticed before leaning against the house, smoking a cigarette, looking very relaxed.

I say a silent thank you to Jess as he points toward a door by the back gate. "It's unlocked. The cameras swing back around in five so you better hurry."

With a nod, I start across the lawn, hefting my bag higher on my shoulder. It's that moment my phone chimes.

I don't look, dashing across the grass to where my suitcase is stashed. Lifting it with my other hand, I sprint to the emergency door that is partially hidden by some bushes. I've seen the door a thousand times, so I don't have to hunt.

Twisting the knob, I'm almost surprised when it's actually unlocked. Tugging, it swings open, and I step out onto the back street behind our property.

I can't believe I'm here. Outside the walls with no guard and no father… Drawing in a deep gulp of air, I close my eyes for a split second. I'm going to be free…

Lifting my phone, I check the text, cursing under my breath. It's Gris. He's going to be late…

What the hell am I supposed to do?

But then I see another message come through.

Got you an Uber. I'll meet you at the restaurant.

Always a gentleman. I could give Gris that.

Awesome. Thanks. Tell the driver to meet me on Elm St.

Three dots appear again. Will do. He'll be there in five. Black Honda Accord.

I let out a long breath. Five. I can handle five .

The truth is I was a bubbly, earnest kid, but being the victim of Toni's tyranny has changed me, hardened me, made me tougher. But underneath that…

I start to pace, wondering if I should start walking. Get away from the house?

But just as my feet get so antsy I can't stay still another second, a black car pulls down the street. It only takes a second for me to identify the H emblem on the front and I wilt with relief.

This is my Uber.

The car stops next to me. If the driver thinks it's strange he's not meeting me by the front door, he doesn't say. "Antonia?" Under normal circumstances, I might wonder why the guy is still wearing sunglasses in the dark, but I'm just relieved he's here. And I've heard enough stories about Uber drivers to know they can be weird.

I've never used one before, because Toni has us driven by the family driver everywhere, but I play it cool.

"That's me," I chirp and then make a dart for the back door, sliding into the car and pulling the door shut. "You're quick."

"I aim to please," he says, as he shifts the car in drive and pulls away. "Acapulco's?"

I shake my head to say no , already pulling out my phone to check my flight info. The Uber makes this so much quicker and easier. I don't have to go through the motions of starting the date with Gris, of leaving halfway through the meal. "Change of plans. I'd like to go to the airport."

"The airport?" he asks, his deep voice tensing in a way I didn't expect.

"Is that a problem?" Did Gris prepay or something? I can always have this guy drive me to the restaurant and then catch a cab from there. What I don't need is complications, and I've got money if I have to pay for a ride myself.

I never spend my allowance, and so I've several thousand dollars in travelling cash.

"No problem," he answers, clearing his throat.

"Oh good. I was worried. "

"It's just not many guys get an Uber for their date to have her go to the airport instead." He puts on the blinker and turns left toward the highway.

I slide back in my seat and pull out my phone again. Relief washes through me when my flight information pops up as on time.

But something is tickling the back of my brain. I raise my head again. This guy is way too up in my business. How does he even know it's a date?

When I note his gaze is back on the road, silence settling again, I don't ask. Why bother? I'm probably just being paranoid, considering my plan. Lifting my phone, I start doing the mobile check-in for my flight. I wish I could have packed more clothes.

I start to hum as I click buttons, relief and excitement, turning my humming into a soft song. If I have one place that still makes me feel, it's singing.

"You've got a great voice," the driver says, making me stop singing, my lips pressing together. But I appreciate the compliment.

"Thanks." I'm hoping to use my voice to make some under-the-table cash while I'm hiding out in Canada.

I know it's a little high-profile, but it's also my best chance of working a little here and there without documentation. Paid in cash.

I had to use my regular passport to enter Canada, which I think means my father can track me.

At least I've got a fake Canadian ID to buy the car.

I pull up marketplace and type in Ontario, looking for a car I might be able to buy.

"Where you headed?"

Irritation makes me sit up as my eyes flick back up and catch his gaze in the mirror. At least I think I catch it. His sunglasses are still on.

But I can see the cut of his jaw and the stubble that does nothing to hide that it's square and deliciously masculine, his mouth full and sexy as hell with his half smile.

I blink away these thoughts. Why am I lusting after the weird Uber driver who keeps interrupting me? I don't lust. I'd never give another man that kind of power over me. "Boston," I say automatically, returning to my phone.

"What's in Boston?"

"My date."

"Ah," he answers, pulling onto the highway. Relieved to finally have stumped him, I go back to my phone.

There is a Honda Civic dirt-cheap for sale right outside Ontario proper. "How do you like the Accord?"

"Surprisingly roomy," he answers with a half grin in the mirror. The smile makes my stomach do funny flips.

I look away, my cheeks heating. "I guess I was wondering more about reliability or drivability. Is it easy to drive?"

"Both are excellent," he answers, the car gliding smoothly along the highway. "Very easy driving."

"Thanks." I give a nod and then fire off a message to the seller, asking to meet tomorrow. The sooner I start on my trip east across Canada, the better off I'll be.

Letting out a long breath, I wonder how long it will take the guy to respond to my request to see the car, when I see the airport sign up ahead.

My shoulders unwind. Every successful step puts a bit more distance between me and Toni Carcetti.

For a moment my eyes flutter closed. I don't care how difficult freedom is, it'll be better than the prison in which I've been living.

But the moment my eyes open, my chin jerks back in surprise. "Hey. You just drove by the airport exit."

"Did I?" he says, not meeting my gaze in the rearview. "I'll turn around at the next exit."

I give the barest nod, my fingers clenching around my phone. I've got tons of time. I planned a whole hour and a half to first meet and then lose Gris on our date. Which means this is no big deal. But every hiccup makes me nervous.

Speaking of…I'm surprised Gris hasn't texted. I should have been at the restaurant by now and so should he.

But maybe if he's still running late, it's a blessing .

The next exit comes up, but the car doesn't decelerate, nor do we move from the middle lane, to the right.

"I thought you were going to turn around?" I say, real panic beginning to rise in my chest. Why didn't we exit the highway?

He doesn't look at me this time, nor does he answer as we glide past the exit. "Hey," I say again, my voice getting louder, sharper. "I really need you?—"

"Nia."

The name, my name, cuts me right to the bone. He called me Antonia when he first picked me up. I'm sure of it. Why would the Uber driver know my nickname?

And then he pulls his sunglasses down, his eyes meeting mine.

I recognize them instantly. He was at the Diamond the night I met Gris.

Even in the dark, illuminated only by the headlights of oncoming traffic, this close, I can see they are a piercing gray color, the intensity of them stealing my breath. "You."

"You know who I am?"

"I know you were at the Diamond a few weeks back."

"I was."

The same night I met Gris. Suddenly, the reason Gris isn't worried I'm late is completely clear.

He was a set-up all along. I knew that guy was too good to be true. Not that I can worry about him right now. My hand claws at my throat as I freeze for a moment. What do I do?

I automatically reach for a door handle, though I don't know where I think I'm going with the car cruising down the highway at eighty miles an hour.

But shock hits me when I realize there isn't a latch to open the door. I blink at the empty mechanism, trying to process why the tab would be missing, my heart racing in my chest.

"Nia." The driver says again. "I'm going to need you to give me your phone."

"No," I whisper, clutching the device tighter. I have to call my father. I hate Toni Carcetti, but I know he'll come for me .

Hitting the screen, I fumble to type in the code, press the buttons that will make this all better.

That's when the driver's right hand appears on the back of the passenger's seat, a small pistol resting casually in his grip. "The phone, Nia. Now."

I've got to hand it to him, the threat, casually delivered is immediately effective. But as I lift my sweating hand up, the phone falls from my grip, bouncing, still lit, onto the floor and then under his seat.

I let out a strangled gasp, staring at where it disappeared. How bad was that…is he going to… "It went under the seat," I cry, feeling the fear swelling inside me. I'm pretty good at controlling it most times, but this is so unexpected and crazy. I just…

"Hey," he says, and he doesn't sound upset. In fact, it's soft, soothing. "Just relax and everything will be fine."

My gaze snaps back to his in the mirror. "Fine? You're kidnapping me."

"Don't think of it like that," he answers smoothly. With the sunglasses off, I can see he's as handsome and as sinister as I imagined that night at the Diamond. Not that I should be taking note of that detail.

This guy's a pyscho.

I wrap my arms around myself, barely holding back a sob. I wanted to get away, but in this moment, I'd do nearly anything to be safely tucked back in my room, under the care of Toni Carcetti.