The Mafia Contract Series

I have never been so hungry. Two years of school meals at Rose Hall makes this a feast fit for a queen. Not that I would tell the savage that. His ego needs no further stroking, and yet there is something wickedly enjoyable about our banter. He appears to like it too and I wonder if I’m falling head-first into madness because why would I enjoy conversing with a rough villain like him?

As I chew the mouth-watering croissant, I glance out of the window and see nothing but clouds beneath us. It’s as if I am on top of the world and not lower down in hell. My mind drifts to our destination and I experience a tingle of alarm because Russia is definitely not a place I have ever had on my bucket list. It’s always been so mysterious, so dangerous even, and now I’m heading that way with some of its most dangerous men.

I’m hoping that customs will demand my passport and it will alert the authorities to my illegal status. I certainly hope so and picture myself heading home on a British Airways jet, enjoying afternoon tea in no time. Not this private jet that was probably bought with blood money. Drugs, probably, and crimes I don’t even want to think of.

The stewardess heads back into the cabin and I don’t miss her curious stare and smile weakly, hoping to alert her to my predicament. Maybe she can get the captain to radio ahead and have the local police meet the aircraft.

“Hi.”

I hand her my plate and she looks away. It takes me by surprise, and I clear my throat.

“I’m sorry, it’s well, I…” She leans down and hisses, “Don’t talk to me-ever. Do you want to get us both killed?”

My eyes widen at the animosity in her voice, and she glares at me angrily before clearing away the breakfast things and storming from the cabin.

How rude. I am incensed because manners cost nothing and yet what has made her so afraid?

They will kill us. For talking. What sort of fucked up shit show have I fallen into?

Now I’m unsettled and bracing myself for my imminent murder, which makes me nauseous.

Remembering my back chat leaves me cold because what was I thinking antagonizing my captor? I really should face the reality of my situation and keep my sarcastic mouth shut to preserve my life.Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

About thirty minutes later, my ears start popping, telling me we are beginning our descent and now I’m nervous for a different reason. We’re here. Wherever that may be and where I’m going may not be so welcoming.

I jump when the savage, or whatever his real name is, heads back into the cabin and takes his seat, shouting, “Make sure you’re strapped in, we’re about to land. It may be a little bumpy.”

I do as he says, hoping he hasn’t remembered I’m not tied up and I briefly wonder if I can somehow use that to my advantage. I haven’t missed the gun tucked in the back of his combats or the hunting knife he likes to spin in his hands. If the landing is bumpy, I may get a chance to seize his weapons and turn them on him instead. I already know how badly that would pan out, for me, anyway and so with a sigh, I grip the seat arm rests and prepare myself for my darkest hour.

HE WASN’T KIDDING and as the plane thumps onto the tarmac and the pilot applies the brakes, it’s as if every bone in my body has been jarred. My heart is beating so fast it may just kill me and as we screech to a stop, I swear I see smoke outside.

A low laugh turns my attention to my captor, who appears to have enjoyed that and catching me looking, he grins. “Always an experience.” Then he winks and for some reason, it floors me a little.

Regardless of who he is, he is still probably the most attractive man I have ever met in my life and part of me is happy to let him star in my fantasizes for one brief delicious moment but then again, he’s a savage, he told me that himself and my arse is reminding me just what a savage does for fun around here.

I don’t think I will ever forgive him for that act of humiliation and pasting a scowl on my face, I stare out at a place that wouldn’t win any prizes in the top ten destinations to visit in the world.

It’s bleak but doesn’t appear that cold. I’m not sure why but I was expecting it to be icy, snowy even. I think I’ve always pictured Russia that way, but this looks like England on a gray dull day, and it’s almost like home.

The plane taxis to a stop and as the door opens, a sudden gust of wind enters the cabin and makes me shiver. The savage looks at me and frowns and calls out something in Russian which sounds quite sexy on him, and I’m surprised when another man enters the cabin dressed in a black suit like the ones at Rose Hall and thrusts a coat at him.

“Here, princess, you may need this.”

He pulls me to my feet and helps me into the oversized black woolen coat and fastens it securely.

To my surprise, he looks at me with concern before lifting his hand and tucking my hair behind my ear.

Just this one simple act of care does something to me inside. It breaks down my defenses in a far more brutal way than any act of violence. It makes the tears well in my eyes and the power of speech to leave me because in a matter of seconds, I have reverted to being that young girl who is alone and scared of the dark. The fact he looks concerned almost undoes the stitching of the armor I’ve constructed and when he leans in and whispers, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

It makes me grip his hand a little tighter.