Chapter Four

Ihave no memories of leaving the plane, and I've found myself alone in a strange house.

I must have slept overnight and into the next day, because it seems like it's already nearly evening.

I've already spent an hour screaming, hoping someone will hear me, and my voice is now hoarse, my throat sore.

The house is small, but there are so many doors separating every room.

I try the back door handle. Locked from the outside.

I groan in frustration. I've already tried every other door and window in this house, and they're all locked.

I'm smart enough to know that there's no way Marco would put me in this house and not lock the doors properly.

He wants to keep me in here, and he clearly wants me alive, so I figure that I'm here as collateral against my family.

This doesn't make a ton of sense, though, because of the money that Marco knows my brothers are about to make on this deal with his people.

I remember that Carlos and Marco are cousins. In fact, when I met Marco after landing in Mexico, it seemed like the two were more like brothers.

So why would Marco be trying to sabotage the deal when he would also be benefiting from it going well?

I know that Marco's parents died when he was still very young, and Carlos' family took him in.

They are also close in age, so from our brief discussions, it seemed like Marco both loves and respects Carlos.

And Carlos has always taken care of his cousin. So why would Marco be trying to sabotage this deal by going against my brothers?

The fact that we both became orphans at such a young age really bonded Marco and I when we first met.

We didn't even spend that long in each other's company, but in that short time, we managed to find out about all the things that we had in common.

His pain at losing his own family was more intense than mine, however, because I still have my brothers, and I had my Nonna. He was all alone, save for his cousins.

Having no siblings, and then losing both of your parents in one day, would be devastating to anyone, but especially a child.

I couldn't admit it then, but now that I think about it, there was a sort of injured puppy element to this man that made me warm up to him.

Which was clearly a mistake. He is obviously as calculated as all the men in my life.

I feel used and dirty.

Marco is nowhere to be seen, but he did leave me a whole welcome basket.

He's too kind—leaving his prisoner some fruit and snacks so that she doesn't get too hungry.

At least my sarcasm is still intact. For now. It's the only protection I have against my wounded pride and hurt feelings.

The fact that Marco hasn't hurt me yet should be good news, but I can't help but wonder if I'm in more danger right now than I realize.

If he wanted to hold me for a sizeable ransom, couldn't he have done that in the US?

Here, we can't get the police involved, and most of our family's associates will refuse to mess with the cartel, so there's very little chance of me getting out of this situation completely unscathed.

I can already hear my brothers lecturing me on why we don't get drunk, make out with a sexy Mexican, and let them kidnap us and take us all the way to Mexico.

They haven't had to do much lecturing in the past, as I'm usually the smart one in our trio, but things at the wedding just got so out of hand.

I plop down onto a soft chair and roll my eyes at myself.

Just three days ago, I was living my life and free.

Now I'm stuck in this house, and I have no idea what's going to happen to me.

How did I get myself into this mess?

Can I really not handle my alcohol at all? Am I that attracted to all the wrong men?

But I admit to myself that there is something different about Marco. He makes me think that he has a softer side—that he might actually have a good heart.

I frown at this thought. I know how unlikely that is. Most of the men I know, including my brothers, don't have many scruples about doing bad things.

Honestly, the fact that my brothers haven't contacted Marco to find out where I am says a lot about what I can expect from all of the men involved in this situation.

Luca is going to be pissed about this, since it's likely going to mess with his honeymoon.

I giggle internally, wondering if they had planned to come to Mexico for their honeymoon—that would be convenient.

But then I think about Luca and how he might wonder if I did this on purpose, to ruin his wedding.

That doesn't make me feel any better about this.

I wasn't happy that Luca decided to marry my best friend, or that she's now pregnant, but he's still my brother, and I love him, even when he's being an asshole.

And if they're having a baby, I'm not going to miss out on my chance to be the best damn aunt that baby could ever have.

I try all of the windows again. They seem to be locked by a mechanism that I can't even see.

I think about trying to break them, but the glass seems much thicker than that of normal windows. I can see the ocean from the side windows, though, and it's making me feel more claustrophobic than ever.

This house is too small, nowhere near the size I'm used to. And there's no yard or outdoor space that I can escape into.

I feel like I've walked through each room over a hundred times and could probably draw them in full detail just from memory now.

Suddenly I think about the roof—maybe I can get out that way. I search the ceiling for some kind of trap door, or a door leading to an attic-type room.

As I scan the living room, a flashing light catches my eye. I walk up to it and realize it's a camera.

So he's been watching me all day?

This is why he doesn't need to be here. He can sit safely away from where he's dumped me and still see my every move.

I run into the dining room and look up—there's another two cameras in here. The kitchen has three.

The bedroom's camera only overlooks the door, at least. Then a thought hits me hard, and I rush into the bathroom, knowing I've already gotten completely naked in here.

I sigh with relief when I don't see a camera in there. The thought of Marco watching me on the toilet makes me more embarrassed than pissed off, somehow.

I wonder where Marco is. He's not in the house, but he's watching me.

Perhaps at Carlos' place? Would Carlos allow him to keep me here and not intervene?

Luca always said that he trusts Carlos and his men, or at least as much as you can trust the Mexican cartel that you're selling drugs with.

Sometimes, though, I know my brother can be wrong about people and their intentions.

I look back up at the camera in the living room. There's a light blinking on the top of the camera, which tells me that it's definitely on.

Okay, if he's watching me, I'm going to tell him exactly what I think about him right now.

"Hey!" I scream into the camera, not sure if the audio is even on, but at least he'll see my angry face.

"You keeping a close eye on your prisoner? Do you think that this is how you're going to get what you want? Locking me up in this house and hoping my brothers care enough to come and save me? And then what? What are you going to do with us?"

I stop screaming to breathe, half expecting him to come rushing in through the door.

I didn't see any other houses nearby when I looked out of the windows, and I'm sure he's smart enough to make this house as soundproof as he can, but having a screaming girl in his home surely can't be good.

No one comes through the door, though, so I turn back to the camera.

"You're a disgusting motherfucker, Marco! I was only willing to fuck you because I was drunk! And you're just pissed off because my brothers have more money than you do! If you don't let me out of this house, I will help my brothers make your life a fucking misery! You'll wish you'd never even heard of the Baldinis before. We're not a family you want to mess with, trust me."

I hear my own voice crack and swallow down the threat of tears.

The last thing I want to do right now is start crying. I might be terrified for my life, but I refuse to let Marco see me break down.

I end my message to him with a very loud "fuck you" and a brilliant display of my middle finger.

That was either a fantastic show of courage that will have him second-guessing his plans for me, or it was the quickest way to piss him off, and I've basically signed my own death certificate.

Only time will tell. I sigh deeply and close my eyes for a second to calm my racing heart.

Now that I've exhausted myself, I feel weak.

Dinner would probably be a good idea. The kitchen is fully stocked. But I can't bring myself to cook or eat.

My stomach feels too tight to fit any food into it.

I head to the bedroom instead, giving the camera my middle finger as I enter the room, and flop down on the bed.

Finally, I let the tears come, but stay as quiet as I can. The last thing I want is for Marco to hear me crying.

I need him to believe that I care very little about what is happening, so that I don't give him any more power than he already thinks he has.

I don't know if I'll make it out of this house alive, but I do know that I have caused this chaos for my family and it's not fair for them.

I hope they can forgive me.

I hope that this isn't the end of it all for me, because I had much bigger plans than to live my last days in a Mexican prison house.

I lay on the bed and stare out of the big glass door that looks over the ocean.

The sun is currently setting over the water, and it's beautiful, despite me having no real choice about whether I want to watch it or not.

This room is gorgeous, and in any other circumstance, coming here would have been a dream come true.

I could set up my sketchpad on the porch and draw those seagulls sitting on the post near the beach. I haven't sketched in so long, but this place demands to be admired and remembered—which is weird because I'm only here as a captive.

But if things were different, if Marco had brought me here because we'd truly connected. I'd drink coffee as the sun came up, and watch the sky go from dark to light, bringing my favorite time of the day with it, especially at the seaside.

But there's no romantic feelings inside of me right now.

There's only despair and fear.

There is a pit of worry in my stomach as well. I know that this situation is dangerous, and I worry about my brothers.

Luca is about to become a dad, and this kind of risk and stress is the last thing he needs.

I close my eyes and think back to being at home.

I think about the place I grew up in and felt the safest. I remember being in Nonna's rose garden, joking with Luca and Enzo.

Even though we've had drama and sadness between us in the last few months, there is nowhere on earth I would rather be right now, than in my childhood home, laughing with my family in the kitchen.

I'm not usually a spiritual person, but tonight, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to reach my brothers with my mind.

I urge them to find me and help get me back home.