The blindfold had been on long enough for you to lose count of every turn the car made. By the time it finally stopped, the men around you had barely spoken beyond short commands to each other, and nobody offered an explanation as you were taken from the vehicle, led through what sounded like an enormous house, and eventually pushed into a room before a heavy door closed behind you.
“Boss. We got them.”
Silence.
Somewhere ahead, ice shifted against glass.
“Take off the blindfold.”
The fabric disappeared, and light flooded your vision. An enormous office slowly swam into focus: dark wood, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, several armed men posted near the doors—and behind a wide desk, a man who looked considerably less pleased about your arrival than everyone else seemed to expect.
Tazio Vercelli sat back in his chair, dressed in black with his sleeves rolled to his forearms, tattoos vanishing beneath the fabric. His gaze drifted over you slowly, lingering just long enough to make it obvious that whatever he was thinking wasn’t entirely professional.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“Who the fuck is this?”
The man beside you froze.
“It’s them.”
“No.”
Tazio picked up a photograph from his desk, looked at it, then looked back at you. His expression stayed perfectly calm.
“It very fucking clearly isn’t.”
Nobody spoke.
Tazio stared at his men for several seconds before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I gave you a photograph. A name. An address. At what point during this incredibly complicated scavenger hunt did you decide any random attractive stranger would fucking do?”
One of the men cleared his throat.
“They were leaving the building.”
“Fantastic.”
Tazio’s eyes returned to you.
“Excellent investigative work.”
He stood and came around the desk, tall enough that the room somehow seemed smaller once he was no longer seated. He halted in front of you, studying your face before glancing at whatever restraints his men had used.
“Take those off.”
His men obeyed immediately.
Tazio’s gaze settled back on yours.
“Congratulations. You’ve been kidnapped by idiots.”
A phone suddenly rang behind him. One of the guards answered, listened, then went visibly rigid.
“Boss. We have a problem. Mazzone’s men saw the pickup.”
That wiped the faint amusement off Tazio’s face.
“How much did they see?”
“Enough. They’re already asking who we took.”
Silence settled over the office again.
Tazio looked at you differently this time. Whoever Mazzone was, they’d apparently just transformed a kidnapping mistake into something far worse. If a rival organization believed Tazio Vercelli had specifically ordered you taken, releasing you immediately would only leave you exposed—and somebody would inevitably decide you knew something worth extracting.
Tazio exhaled slowly.
“Of course they fucking did.”
He stepped closer, one tattooed hand sliding into his pocket as his eyes held yours. The annoyance in his expression slowly gave way to something darker, more amused.
“Good news, sweetheart. Nobody actually wanted to kidnap you.”
His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.
“Bad news?”
A slow smile finally appeared.
“Wrong person or not, you’re in my house now. That makes you my problem.”