Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

“Stop yelling at me.” His order falls flat, because I’m done.

“No. I won’t. And I won’t let you keep me locked up here anymore.” I step forward but his security men block me.

“It’s for your protection. Kasia and Lena aren’t going to be here tonight either.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Your sister and your sister-in-law are willing to play sweet little submissive wives so I should too?”

“Nicole. I don’t have time to argue with you about this.”

“Tell your goons to let me pass.” The anger balled up in my chest loosens a bit and rolls right into panic. “Jakub, I worked on this opening. I have bloggers and press to greet. This is my job, let me do my job.”

A hefty sigh comes through the phone. “It’s not safe, Nicole. I won’t put you in jeopardy.”

“I’m done, Jakub,” I say, turning away from the men and facing the wall. “We said this was temporary. You said it was just until Henry got off my back. He’s back in New York, he’s getting married. I don’t need your protection anymore.” I pause, wait for him to say something, but there’s nothing but dead air. “Your family is causing more trouble for me than protection.” I hit the elevator call button.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“No, Jakub. We won’t. There is no later.” I step into the elevator, sticking my tongue out at the dutiful soldiers as the doors slide closed.

“It’s one night, Nicole.”

“It’s one too many. I’ve let this go on too long, letting you think you can control this, that you can control me.” I blink back a sudden attack of tears. “I’m not doing it anymore.”

Before he can answer, I click off the call. Leaning against the side of the elevator, I close my eyes, letting the hot tears roll down my cheeks. This pain, this clenching in my chest, sucks the strength from me. I was all ready to celebrate with him, with his family. My family.

I step off the elevator into the apartment and throw my clutch at the couch as I pass it on my way to the stairs. They aren’t my family. He’s not really mine. And I’m not his.

This was all such a stupid arrangement. Marriage for protection? What the hell was I thinking? His protection is a locked cell, and I won’t be caged forever.

My phone dances on the dresser as another text message comes through, then it rings, but I ignore all of it. Jakub can keep trying to get me, but it’s too late.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

He’ll always want to protect me from things he has no control over. There will always be an enemy to watch out for.

I leave all the clothes he’s bought me and only stuff my own clothing into my bag. Dressed in a more reasonable outfit of jeans and t-shirt, I lace up my gym shoes. I brush out the curls in my hair and pull it back into a high ponytail.

A sob breaks free from my chest, but I suck it back as best I can. I don’t have time to break down. I have to get out of here, and clear of Chicago. Slinging the bag across my back, I shove my phone in my back pocket and grab my wallet.

I’ve been stashing my paychecks into my checking account; I should have enough for a plane ticket to California, or maybe south. Maybe I should get out of the country.

All set to go, I open the window in the living room where the fire escape is. Jakub removed the extra babysitters at the side of the building where the fire escape leads, which makes my escape from the apartment easier. But once I’m in the gangway and I roll the ladder back up in place, I realize there are cameras at both entrances of the building, and the guys inside will see me as soon as I walk past their electronic eyes.

I grab my phone, pressing myself against the building as flat as I can. The sun is still high enough in the sky, I’ll be spotted if anyone looks down the narrow path between the buildings. As fast as I can, I fire up the car service app on my phone and request a ride.

Luck is on my side. There’s a car only a few blocks away. By the time I get up to the front of the building, I see the black Civic pull to the curb. The app logo shows brightly on the windshield. Holding my bag against my body, I hurry to the car and jump into the back.

“Thanks,” I say, ducking down.

“Hi. O’Hare?” the middle-aged man asks while messing with the AC controls.

“Yes.” The front door of the building opens and one of Jakub’s men steps outside. “I’m running really late; can you get me there as fast as possible?”

He looks over his shoulder at me and smiles. Most of his teeth have rotted away and the ones left don’t look so great either.

“Yeah, sure,” he says and pulls away from the curb, faster than I expect him to. I’m thrown back in the seat.

I settle into the seat, resting my head against the coolness of the window. What the hell am I doing? Running away again?

Should I shoot him a text while I’m on the plane? My chest aches, my entire body hurts. I’m being too rash. I’m overreacting.

I need to get my ass back to the apartment. His men will tell him what happened, and he’ll rage at me for a bit. But it will be all right. Or I can go to the club. Yes. I’ll go to the club, change into something nicer. I’ll get what I want by being at the opening, and Jakub will have a solid reason to beat my ass when we get home.

But in the end, we’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.

No more running.

Finally coming to my senses, I look out the window. Really look at where the driver is headed.

My stomach drops.

“Uh, this isn’t the way to the airport,” I say, leaning forward and touching his shoulder.

“I know,” he says flatly.

“Look. I don’t want to go there anyway. Take this next left. I’m going to the Katfish club.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

The car pulls to a stop at a red light at an empty intersection. The stores are closed for night already, and there aren’t any people around. This entire area is practically abandoned.

I grab the door handle, but it won’t budge. The door won’t open.

“Hey!” I say, kicking the back of his seat. “Open the door.”

The light turns green.

“No.”

“Stop saying that! Turn this car around!”

His answer is to turn the car radio on.

“Let me out,” I say, my voice shaking. I can’t catch my breath, and my heart is somewhere where my stomach is supposed to be.

“Sit back, Nicole. Enjoy the ride. It will take some time to get to the railcar.”

“Railcar?” My voice squeaks.

“Yes. Mr. Kaczmarek would like a word.”

Ice runs through me. “No,” I say, shaking my head. This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.

“Yes,” he says, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

I can’t just sit here and let this happen, so I attack. Lunging forward between the front seats, I grapple for the wheel. He barks orders at me in Polish, but I’m not in the right frame of mind to obey the creep. I get hold of the wheel and jerk it to the right.

His foot presses the gas during our struggle and the car spins, turning too fast. The car lifts up onto two wheels. I barely manage to lift my head before I see the traffic light coming right at us.

Or we’re headed at it.

In one instant I’m screaming at the prick still hitting me and trying to get me away from him, and in the next I’m floating.

A sharp pain ricochets through my chest.

And then there’s nothing.