Sold to Mr. Giordano

Antonio

The box is lighter than expected given the size of it. So, I doubt it’s a bomb. I waste no more time opening it to see a letter on top of various items below it.

     Mr. Giordano,

Congratulations! You’re a father. We’re having our own little baby shower with your wife a little—gender reveal party. It was much fun. Arielle cried when she found out it was a girl. Enclosed is a gift for your daughter from us. Enclosed is also a warning. If you don’t step down there will be worse body parts to find in a brown box.

The letter ends without being signed by whoever took her. My throat closes with an overwhelming flood of emotions. I’m going to have a daughter. I hold back the smile wanting to make itself present when I remember the words body part. Dread fills my stomach at all the possibilities of what could be in the box. Her ear, a finger, a toe, a piece of skin, locks of hair, an eyeball…

When I look into the box, I see a pink pair of baby booties and a short slender finger—her pinky. The color tells me it was recently taken. Fuck. I need to find her and fast because there is no way in hell I’m stepping down as Capo.

Why would the Bratva want me to step down? Do they have another choice—one more corrupt? No, it can’t be. The possibility that it’s someone in the Famiglia is probable, someone who wants me gone and wants to take over.

How could they know Arielle is pregnant? No man would notice, sure she has a small bump but it’s hardly noticeable, anyone could think she’s simply fat. Maybe she told them so they would go easy on her? My heart rate picks up as a I think of her scared and begging for her life, begging for them not to do anything that would bring harm to our daughter. The pain she must have felt as they took her finger.

She’s not accustomed to pain like Made Men are, there are hardly any marks, scars or blemishes on her perfect creamy skin. I toss the box across the room and yell out my frustration, my anger. Yell at how unfair this is and how all my fucking life I promised not to get close so this exact scenario would never happen and yet I let my guard down. I allowed myself to feel an ounce of pleasure and love and now it’s screwing me over. My enemies know my weakness and they are winning because I would do anything to get Arielle back.

She is my weakness.

Weakness.

It looks like the great Antonio Giordano finally has a weakness, Marco’s voice rings in my head.

Any of my men would know that I don’t partially care much for my wife, I make it that way so I don’t show my weakness. I don’t mention my wife to any of the members in the Outfit and when I do, they’re lies to make it seem like I don’t care. The only four people who would ever know that Arielle is becoming a weakness for me is Rocco, Angelo, Luca and Marco and two of those people I can cross off my list. The other two…

I pull out my pistol so quick that Luca and Benedetto don’t have any time to draw. “How loyal are you?” I ask his guard.

“I would die for Luca,” he bites back.

With that answer I shoot him directly between the eyes. His body falls with a thud.

“Now that’s not very nice,” Luca frowns.

“Where is she?”

“Where is who?” He plays stupid. “Oh, your sister. I haven’t a clue,” he shrugs.

I aim the gun at his kneecap and he falls to the floor screaming next to Benedetto’s corpse. “I’m going to ask again, where is my wife?”

“You stupid fucker! Can’t see you see she is manipulating you and making you weak. Choosing that fucking cunt of the Famiglia.”

I punch him hard enough to knock him unconscious. I pull his body into one of the dining room chairs and tie him with duct tape and rope I find in a supply closet to be safe. I tie each wrist to the arms of the chair and do the same to his ankles. Arabella comes down the stairs warily and shrieks when she sees her dead bodyguard.

“I need you to stay in your room, okay?” I ask her.

Her eyes stare at Luca. “Are you going to kill him? Is he dead?”

“I need some information from him. He knows where Ary is and I’d bet all my money that Marco is with her now.”

“What? Why?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out. I need you to lock yourself in your room and don’t come out until I tell you it’s okay. If something goes south and I’m dead and Luca comes after you. I want you to be ready upstairs waiting, take one of Luca’s guns and shoot him or Marco or anyone who isn’t me. I need you to call Rocco tell him they have Arielle. If I’m dead you need to get back to Chicago and stay safe. Okay?”

If this means to sacrifice my life for Arielle then, I will. I will not spare them.

She nods frantically and takes one of the burner phones in the kitchen drawer and scurries upstairs.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

I pace around waiting for Luca to wake up, this is going to be a long night but I intend to gather every piece of information about Arielle ‘s whereabouts and their planning and reasoning.

“Fucker,” Luca curses as he comes to. He moves his body and groans in pain probably remembering that a bullet went through his kneecap.

“Where is my wife?” I ask as I cross my arms and lean against the kitchen waiter.

“Why would I ever tell you?”

“Wrong answer. What should I start with? Your pinky?” Seems fitting. My wife lost hers, it’s only fair that her brother behind the attack should too.

I grab a sharp knife from one of the kitchen drawers. I kneel so I’m level with his hand now flailing trying to get out of the tape around his wrist. I hold him steady as I slowly slice into the skin and keep going until the entire finger is dislodged from his body.

Luca grits his teeth and bites his tongue trying not to scream out. “You’re going to pay for this,” he exhales deeply as I hold his pinky into the air.

 “And I think I remember saying that you were going to eat every body part I cut off?”

Luca’s face goes pale but he doesn’t say anything back. He just keeps his mouth shut. Something he should’ve done a long time ago.

“Where is my wife?” I ask again.

“Fuck. You.”

My hand goes to his jaw forcing his mouth open as I shove his pinky into his mouth. Luca gags and tries to spit it back up. “Where is my wife?”

With no answer I grab the knife and cut off his other pinky finger. “You have eight more fingers left until I move onto your toes. I heard the big toe hurts the worst. I’ll save that for last.”

“You think your tough torturing me?” He groans. The blood from his pinky is dripping out of his mouth. He spit the finger onto the floor and I let him, there are much more productive ways to get him to talk. After all his fingers and toes are gone, I think I’ll go for his dick considering it’s what he thinks with the most.

Threaten someone’s manhood and they’re likely to talk.