The Villain’s Captive by Bella J.

15

It washard to put into words what I was feeling. There was no reason for me to feel gutted by the knowledge that my father was dead. I didn’t know him at all. I had never even seen a picture of him. But there was this dull ache in my chest. Disappointment, maybe. Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, I had always hoped my father would one day just knock on the door, suddenly wanting to be a part of my life.

I cleared my throat, the wine already stirring a buzz in my veins. “Okay, so my father is dead. Where’s my grandfather? Gianni?”

Elijah dragged a hand through his hair, placing his wine glass down, rubbing his thumb and forefinger around the thin stem. “He’s in prison—a special prison for mafia informers in Northern Italy.”

“Oh, my God.” It was almost comical, the amount of irony I had been slapped with. An absent father who turned out to be dead, and a grandfather I never even thought about being stuck in prison. “You know what, I’m not even going to be upset over any of this.” I threw my hands in the air. “Just cut to the part where you tell me how all this affects me. Why you went from hitman, to stalker, to kidnapper.”

His dark brows drew together clearly, unamused, but I was one glass of white wine past giving a rat’s ass.

Elijah stood from his seat and removed his gray jacket, placing it over the chair, and started to roll up his dress shirt sleeves. Of course, all my attention had to drift to his arms—strong arms I had felt around me, the taut muscles and bulging veins covered with flawlessly tanned skin.

“James, would you mind throwing me a glass of whiskey? And bring the bottle too.”

James nodded, and Elijah sat back down waiting for his drink. The ice clinked against the crystal as he took a large sip and placed it back down.

I crossed my legs under the white oak dining table. “What is it?”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re about to tell me.” I gestured toward his whiskey. “Clearly, it’s one hell of a bomb you’re about to drop on me since you need liquid support to do it. Just tell me.”

For the longest time, his gaze lingered on mine. It was like a sea of secrets and mysteries, a vortex of all the darkest parts he tried to hide.

“A year before you mother died, Gianni turned himself in.”

“Why would he do that?”

Elijah weaved his fingers together on his lap. “He turned himself in, hoping he could strike a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“A deal that would protect…you.”

“Me?” Confusion dropped like dead weight around my shoulders, my thoughts suddenly eerily quiet. “Why would he want to protect me? He doesn’t even know me.”

“The day your grandfather found out about your mother’s cancer, plans had been put in motion.”

“What plans?”

“Plans to ensure that you wouldn’t be alone.”

“Why now? After all these years, he suddenly cares about me now?”

“Everything he’s done, he did to protect you.”

I shot to my feet. “You expect me to believe a man who has never worried about me or my mother in the past now suddenly made this huge fucking sacrifice to protect me?” My heart was beating so damn fast, I was sure James could hear it from across the room.

“Sit down, Charlotte.”

“No. I won’t sit down.”

He darted up, and slammed his hands on the table, cutlery and glasses shaking and rattling like his anger had just become an earthquake. “Sit. The fuck. Down.”

He tilted his head, eyes filled with warning. All it took was a simple glare, a brief scowl, and I cowered under his silent authority, slowly easing back into my seat. I hated that he had this kind of power over me, as if he owned me. Like I was his fucking lapdog who would obey his every command.

Elijah’s expression remained hard and unreadable as he slowly sat back down. “Are you ready to listen, or are you planning on throwing another temper tantrum?”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one and fucking listen.”

“I am listening. It’s not my fault nothing you say makes any sense.”

He scoffed and diverted his gaze across the room. “I knew you’d be hard to tame.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not a goddamn animal who needs taming, Elijah. And frankly, I don’t even know if I need to hear all of this. I spent my whole life surviving without a father or a grandfather, and I’m still alive and breathing. So, my guess is I don’t need this mysterious grandfather who just decided to pop up out of fucking nowhere.”

He scoffed, the vein in his neck throbbing. “He was always there, Charlotte. You just never saw him. How the fuck do you think your mom was able to pay the bills? Do you think her half-decent wage from being in an orchestra was enough to put you through school, pay for a roof over your heads, and have food on your goddamn table every day?”

“I’m well aware that her job didn’t pay well,” I spat out, “but we received monthly payments from my—”

“—grandmother’s life insurance?”

My heart turned inside out, pounding against my throat. I could feel all the blood in my body drain to my cheeks.

“Your mother came from a low-income family, Charlotte. Do you really think they could afford life insurance?”

My entire world spun off its axis, like I got sucked through a giant vortex of lies and deceit. As if I had lived a life that was never really mine.

“It was him,” I murmured.

“He sent the money pretending it was coming from some bullshit life insurance company so there was no trace back to him.”

I fell back in my seat, dropping my gaze to the barely eaten seabass on my plate. The sight and smell of food suddenly made me sick to my stomach while I struggled to digest everything Elijah was throwing at me.

“Now, may I continue, or can I expect more rude interruptions from you?” His condescending tone pissed me off, but I was big enough to admit when I was cornered, and nodded reluctantly.

“Good.” He leveled me with his stare. “Gianni turned himself in to protect you, hoping the deal he struck would grant him a new identity, and then he’d be able to”—he pressed his lips in a thin line, clearly searching for the right words—“be a part of your life without having to constantly look over his shoulder.”

I narrowed my eyes, my head about to snap in fucking half as I struggled to grasp the magnitude of what Elijah was telling me. “So, surrendering, this deal he made was because he wanted to be in my life?” Disbelief dripped from my every word. “My grandfather is stuck in a prison somewhere because of me?”

Elijah shook his head. “Not because of you…for you. He didn’t want to repeat the same mistake he made with your father. He wants to know you, Charlotte. He wants to be there for you in ways he can’t if he’s still Gianni Guerra. His past sins won’t allow it.”

“Jesus.” I pulled my palms down my face, not knowing whether I wanted to cry or scream. Maybe a little bit of both, but my insides crawled, as if I would jump out of my skin at any moment. “Which prison?” I asked without looking at him.

“A prison that protects mafia informers. He was hoping he’d be out by now, but unfortunately, it seems there’s a lot of shit happening behind the scenes, and it delayed the process.”

“What things?”

“I can’t be sure.” Elijah’s expression darkened as a heaviness descended around us, the air almost too thick to breathe. “But Gianni has enough information to lock away a lot of bad people for ten fucking lifetimes.”

And like a fucking mudslide of fifty-ton boulders, it hit me. It struck me right in the gut, leaving me breathless and ice fucking cold. “And that’s why I need protection,” I whispered, my every muscle numb. “Back in New York, someone was trying to…kill me?”

Elijah didn’t move. He didn’t even blink, giving me nothing to confirm what I was saying was right. But he didn’t need to. I knew I was right. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to slip into place, and yet, the more I placed together, the more distorted the picture became.

Elijah shot back the rest of his whiskey, cringing as he slammed the glass down on the table, still not giving me an answer. God, he could hardly look at me.

“So, this means all these bad people, they know about me, that I’m Gianni’s granddaughter?”

His shoulders rose as he inhaled deeply. “Yeah.”

“And now they want me dead, to what? Keep my grandfather from talking?”

“Oh, no. They know if they kill you, Gianni will sing like a motherfucking bird to every goddamn press and journalist who will listen. No,” he shook his head, “they don’t want to kill you, Charlotte. They want to use you as collateral. As long as they have you, they know Gianni won’t talk.”

Ice pierced my chest. “So, my grandfather is the informer, and I’m the surety these people need to keep him quiet.”

Elijah nodded, his eyes reflecting a sliver of sympathy.

“And you?” I toyed with my thumb cuticles on my lap. “Who are you supposed to be in this war?”

With his nostrils flaring, jaw clenched, and every ounce of air sucked out of the room, Elijah placed a hand on the table, tapping his finger. “I’m the man who owes your grandfather a debt. And kidnapping you, bringing you here…is me paying that debt.”