Lib Novel Page 25
Another scream erupts from wherever my kidnapper happens to be at the moment, but it’s more subdued this time. “Nope.”
“Then, I absolutely loved it,” I say.
“I’m glad to hear that. You can call your family. No details on where you are, or how you got here, or you know what will happen. Capito?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Put Guido on.”
Based on Guido’s sour expression when I pass him the phone, he’s not happy with Rafael’s decision. They argue for nearly another minute before Rafael’s brother hands the device back to me.
“Twenty seconds,” he barks. “And you make the call right there.”
I stare at the screen, pondering whether I should call Mom or Dad. Dad would undoubtedly lose his shit and start yelling, demanding to know where I am. I won’t be able to say a word until he’s done. My twenty seconds will be lost. Mom it is, then.
My fingers shake as I punch in the numbers, and when the line finally connects, I almost break down and start crying. I lose a precious five seconds trying to pull myself together before I can utter a word.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Vasya?” my mom’s groggy voice comes through the line. “Oh my God! Where are you, baby?! We’ve been going crazy—”
“I’m fine, Mom. Listen, I can’t talk long. I just wanted you to know I’m okay and that I’m coming home in a couple of weeks.”
“What? Tell me where you are! Right now!”
“I’ll call again in a few days, okay? Love you.”
I barely finish before Guido snatches the phone out of my hand and cuts the line. “Time’s up. Can’t risk them tracing the call.”
His tone contains a trace of smugness, as if taking that phone from me is the most gratifying thing he has done in a long time. My teeth squeak from the forceful way I clench them. It’s either that or letting the tears welling in the corners of my eyes burst free.
But I won’t give this little prick the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
Turning on my heel, I march to the wall cabinet on the opposite side of the kitchen, grabbing a chair from the dining table along the way. The damn thing has to be solid wood because it weighs a ton. By the time I reach my intended destination, my arms hurt from hefting the bulky object. I set the chair next to the cabinetry, climb it, then start pulling glassware off the top shelf and setting it on the counter.
“What are you doing?” Guido asks behind me.
I ignore him, focusing solely on my task of reorganizing. It’s the only way I’ll be able to distract myself from worrying about my family.
Blindly, I empty the cupboards of cups and glasses that have all been haphazardly placed on one shelf, and the stemware that was mixed in with tumblers and other cocktail glasses.
“K???? ??????? ??????????,” I mumble as I move on to the middle shelf. They even have cake stands wedged in the same place!
“I asked, what the fuck are you doing?” Guido snarls next to me and slams the cabinet door closed, barely missing my fingers.
Eyes fixed on his hand keeping the door shut, I take a deep breath, then face the dickhead. The look he levels me with is loaded with narrowly restrained contempt and malice.
“Do you have a problem with me, Guido?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And what problem might that be?” My voice may sound strong, but truthfully, I’m barely holding myself together. I have no qualms about confronting men with an overabundance of testosterone and asshole personalities under normal circumstances, but this fucked-up situation is proving a bit too much. “The last I checked, I’m not here because I want to be.”
Guido’s nostrils flare. He leans toward me, getting in my face. “If you get my brother killed, I’ll fucking murder you.”
Two treacherous tears escape, sliding down my cheeks. Returning his resolute gaze, I make myself smile. “Feel free to try.”
He bangs his fist on the cupboard and storms out of the kitchen. Only after he’s gone, do I lower myself to the counter, sitting down between the rows of glasses and cups, and wipe my cheeks.