Taken - A Gangster Stepbrother Romance (5 page)

Chapter Seven

              Sometime in the night, one of the wide necked security guards had knocked on her door saying that dinner was ready. She had mumbled from the bed her disinterest. The guard had knocked a few more times but then decided to just give up.

              Emma slept as if she had been drugged again. She embraced the sinking darkness, letting it whisk her away from her surreal and dangerous present. Because no matter her bravado in front of Antonio the other day, she had not forgotten he was the leader of the Del Marco Clan. She had been lucky. She couldn’t afford to keep letting her temper fly away with her.

              She slept through the night and well past morning. Another knock had come again in the morning announcing breakfast but Emma had shouted her disinterest at the guard before letting herself sink back into the warm embrace of sleep. She had no appetite anyhow.

              When she finally woke up, she could see by the light coming in through the window that it was sometime in the late afternoon. Her stomach gurgled a bit now from having declined meals for nearly a whole day. Emma shook her head. It didn’t matter. She had more important things to think about anyway.

              The room had looked like it had no windows but seeing the orange patch of light on the carpet, Emma looked up to find a small rectangular window up in the corner of the far wall, covered by a sheer white curtain.

              If she could reach that window and get a good look at where she was, maybe she could get a good handle on how to proceed next. Grabbing the stool from the vanity, she angled it right below the window. Stepping up, she was just barely able to look out if she stood on her tiptoes.

              Carefully lifting the curtain, she looked out. The first thing she noticed was the greenery. She was used to seeing rundown buildings and concrete sidewalks that seeing all this greenery was a bit of a shock.

              But there were a thick line of trees surrounding a large yard. It was green and beautiful and lush. This had to be more north then. She was far from south central LA. Maybe they were in the Valley?

              Then something glinting in the distance caught her eye.

              Emma stretched as far as she could on her toes and looked out to her right.

              A guard with an automatic rifle slung over his back was standing on a raised platform about forty feet away. Emma’s heart sank. There were guards outside. With weapons.

              Emma jumped down from the stool, mentally kicking herself. Of course there would be guards outside! This was the home of the Del Marco Clan leader! He wouldn’t just live in any old house that any stranger could walk right up to. It would have to be well-guarded. Like a fortress.

              But that meant any plans for escape were now impossible for Emma. It was clear that the guard outside was on sentry duty which probably meant there were more surrounding the entire home.

              Home.

              Emma snorted. This wasn’t a home. This was a compound. A prison. And she had no way of letting the outside world know where she was or who had taken her.

              The first guard who had drugged her in LA must’ve taken her cell phone because she had yet to find it. In slow, consuming waves, Emma could feel her frustrations rise within her again.

              Who cares who her mother married? Who cares who Gabe Del Marco was? She had still bounced around from home to home, detached foster guardian to guardian, alone and without anyone to claim her as theirs.

              Even the memory of the Grants had been sullied. Her own grandparents! And they never said one word about it. Even on their deathbeds, they never revealed their intimate connection. And they had known how much she had craved family, how much she had ached for roots. Still they had been silent. They had let her keep floating in isolation.

              Emma ran towards the bedroom door and tried to yank it open.

              But it was locked.

              Pounding on the door, she yelled, “Open this door! Open it!” She kicked at it, punched it, drummed on it. But it remained locked.

              Either no one was outside or if someone
was
outside, no one cared to listen to her.

              Exhausting herself, Emma slumped to the floor, her forehead against the door. “Open the door,” she whispered, tears threatening to fall again.

              Unable to let herself cry again, she ran back and threw herself on the bed, burying her head into the pillow. If she were going to cry, no one would hear her do it. And if tears were going to fall, no one would see it, not even Emma. Only the pillow would be witness.

              She hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep again until a pounding came at the door. “Dinner is ready downstairs,” a burly voice called from outside.

              Emma moaned, trying to gather her wits about her. Her head felt thick and cottony and her vision a little blurry from sleeping all day without food. She didn’t bother responding. No one had responded to her pounding. Why should she respond to theirs?

              She immediately fell back asleep, pillow over her face.

              But she was soon awoken again to a hand grabbing both of her wrists and yanking her up. Before she could even fully awake, Emma found herself off the bed and stumbling behind a man.

              Antonio.

              Without clearly thinking, she yanked her arms. She couldn’t pull away but her movements caused the man to stop. Turning around slowly, he gave her a piercing cold look that made her freeze from the inside out.

              Hair still sticking to her cheek, Emma glared at him. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

              Antonio turned back around and began dragging her again towards the door. “I am taking you down to dinner so I can shove some food in that stubborn mouth of yours,” he said evenly.

              Emma tried to dig her heels into the carpet but the soft floor gave her no grip. Antonio’s hand was large enough and strong enough to keep a good tight hold on both of her wrists.

              As they neared the door, she gave another hard yank. “Stop! Stop!” she cried out. When Antonio turned around, she glared at him with all the frustration and anger she had felt since meeting the man. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? If I say I don’t want to eat, I won’t eat. I’m a grown goddamn woman!”

              Antonio raised an eyebrow. “A grown woman? A grown woman who mopes all day and then starves herself for another two?
That
kind of grown woman?”

              Emma stared at him. “Fuck you,” she said, the words flying out before she could stop herself.

              Moving so fast she barely had time to register what was happening, Antonio pushed her up against the wall. Hard. Her head bounced against the wall, causing her to hiss in pain.

              Stepping in till he was only a breath away, Antonio looked down at her. His eyes swept over her features as if taking in every detail. Emma mentally cursed at herself knowing that he could see her puffy eyes and red cheeks from all the crying she had done.

              “You’re going to eat,” he finally said. “And let me make something very clear. As older son and leader of the Del Marco Clan, you fall under my rule. And I don’t tolerate people starving themselves, least of all you. You will come down to dinner and eat or I will tie you to a chair and force you to eat. Either way,” he said, his eyes gleaming, “you’re eating.”

              Emma forced herself to keep her knees from buckling. Antonio was a forceful presence to wrangle with, especially when pressed up against the wall with your hands pinned together. But she tried to keep her spine straight as she fought against this man who insisted on ruining her life.

              She looked up at him, unable to believe this man’s audacity and dominance. “You’re treating me like some kind of…of…” Emma tried to think of the right word that encompassed her frustrations and futility “…a slave!”

              Antonio leaned forward and grabbed her chin with thumb and forefinger. With eyes that shone gunmetal gray, he said lowly, “Then so be it and learn to follow your master.”

              Turning around abruptly, he dragged Emma out of the room.

Chapter Eight

              The lights of the dining room glittered above her as if mocking her situation. Emma stared down at the gleaming white china plate and the delicious food that graced it.

              Antonio Del Marco clearly liked fine wine and food because both were present in the giant domed dining room. At the long gleaming walnut table, Antonio sat at the head with Emma at his right.

              Once seated, Emma had stubbornly refused to pick up her knife and fork. Antonio, who was enjoying the stuffed mushroom caps, simply gave her a look of mild interest at her stubborn protest before calling over a guard that stood by the dining room entrance. Emma saw him motion in her general direction. Her eyes widened.

             
He wouldn’t.

              But whether it was her imagination or not, she thought she had seen his mouth form the word ‘rope.’ Immediately, she picked up her fork and speared an asparagus. She almost bit her tongue in irritation while chewing when she saw Antonio’s lips twitch in amusement.

              Although she would never admit it out loud, the dinner was more than welcomed for her stomach. She felt her head getting clearer and her body feeling stronger with every bite. She
had
been a fool to lose her appetite like that, especially when she needed to have all her wits about her.

              As the meal wound down, Emma watched as Antonio took a sip of his wine. The man certainly frightened her and yet he brought out something else in her as well. Something raw and stubborn and…brave?

              Coming home from work or school, Emma would keep her head down and hope that no one on the street would engage her. She purposely wore baggy clothes to hide her body’s natural slim curves. And thankfully, for the most part, she had been left unmolested. But if someone ever had approached her, she knew she would’ve just kept her mouth shut and hoped for it all to end as quickly and painlessly as possible.

              But Antonio brought something else out of her. She felt emboldened to fight for herself, to show him that she was more than some piece of luggage he could conveniently store wherever he pleased.

              But as Emma took a sip from her own wine, she caught the sight of a gun glinting from inside Antonio’s suit jacket as he lowered his wine glass.

              She could be brave but she also had to be careful.

              “What am I to do here if I’m not going home?” Emma finally asked in what she hoped was a neutral sounding tone of voice.

              Antonio poured himself another glass of wine. Looking over at Emma’s still nearly full glass, he leaned over and topped it off with another half inch or so of wine.

              Emma was surprised by the considerate gesture but refused to be sidetracked. “Am I to be holed up here until I get married?” she asked, nearly choking on the last word.

              Antonio leaned back in his chair. He looked relaxed although was a panther ever relaxed? “As it happens,” he said, swirling his wine glass, “we’ll be going out quite soon.”

              Emma’s brows rose in surprise. They were? “Where?”

              “To the Hastings Charity Gala.”

              Emma’s jaw dropped. Hastings Charity Gala was one of the premiere social events of the year. It was attended by socialites, celebrities, and politicians. It was a huge event that would be covered internationally. And invitations to the function were highly exclusive. The tabloids loved writing up articles on who hadn’t been invited to Hastings that year or who had finally gotten in.

              “To Hastings?” Emma echoed. How had a mob boss snagged such an exclusive and highly coveted invitation? “Why?”

              Of all the places she thought they would be going, an international gala of the social elite was the last place she had expected.

              “You need to be introduced into the public. DM Holdings is now quite a large and influential empire and the CEO of DM Holdings doesn’t just suddenly get a little sister out of nowhere,” Antonio said.

              DM Holdings. The company that was turning the Del Marco Clan ‘legit.’ At least, so says the papers. But what did ‘legit’ really mean? With the Del Marco Clan involved, it probably meant shady underhanded deals with politicians or illegal factory productions abroad.

              “So what? Is the Gala like my coming out?” Emma asked, sincerely stunned.

              Antonio huffed a laugh. “I suppose you could call it that. It’s an appropriate venue filled the right people to show off an intimate family relation. I’ll play the protective older brother who wanted to shield his delicate little sister from the harsh light of the public by sending her away to study. But now she’s back and ready to take her proper place within DM Holdings.”

              Antonio gave her pointed look when he mentioned ‘proper place.’

              “It’ll essentially help legitimize your sudden appearance,” Antonio continued. “A marriage between the DM Holdings and Cavalli Corporation would be huge news so we need to be in front of it and make sure we get it covered the right way.” Antonio took a sip of his wine. “Plus, I’m sure you must be at least a little curious as to what your fiancé looks like.”

              Emma nearly dropped her wine. “He…He’s going to be there?”

              Antonio nodded. “David Cavalli will be in attendance along with his father. It’ll be a good opportunity to introduce both of you as a couple.”

              Emma wanted to protest, to argue. But all she could do was feel the bottom spinning out from under her.