Blackmailed to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #2)

11. Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

D r. Mya

A date with my kidnapper. I shouldn’t be here, but I was. My only reason was curiosity. I could’ve fought him, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to learn what made him tick. If I was ever going to make his evil leave for good, I’d have to figure out his mindset.

So, I dressed nice, not surprised there was a closet full of clothes my size. I fluffed my curls out, since I’d found a way to pineapple my hair at night. I’d been concerned that I wouldn’t be able to take care of my hair.

To my surprise and disdain, all my products were in the bathroom. I even had big satin scrunchies to throw my hair up. Maybe it was Eden’s doing, but as he dragged me through the villa, I knew it was Sebastian.

He knew more about me than I knew of him.

A blue Ferrari was what he was driving tonight. He shoved me in the passenger’s seat, but took the time to buckle me in. His gloved fingers graced my bare flesh, sending goosebumps across my skin. He closed the door and walked to the driver’s side, climbing in. Without a word, he took off. The coast was beautiful at this time of night. I was sure it was gorgeous during the day as well, but it wasn’t like I’d be able to sightsee.

The restaurant was dimly lit, the place where shadows danced on the walls, and secrets whispered in every corner. Intimate. Soft jazz music had played on the ride, and Sebastian hadn’t removed his hand from my thigh the entire time. We’d pulled into a tiny seaside village, and he’d helped me out of the car when we got here, and escorted me inside with a hand pressed into my lower back for guidance.

“Where are all the patrons?” I looked around.

I did not know how Sebastian cleared the place out, but it was just the two of us. Even the waitstaff moved like ghosts, quiet and unobtrusive, keeping a careful distance from the table where we sat. Candles adorned every table, and I caught my breath at the beauty of it all. The shadows highlighted his scars, but I didn’t mind.

He smirked at me and I noticed it was different. “I reserved the entire place for us. Usually, the table is only reserved for me, but you deserve something special.” This wasn’t Sebastian I was sitting with. I could feel it. He probably evacuated the restaurant so I wouldn’t run.

I fidgeted with the silverware, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened under his scrutiny. “Why would you do that? What do you want from me? You didn’t even know if I would come with you.” I tried to keep my voice steady. I wasn’t sure why I agreed to this dinner, why I kept putting myself in situations where Riccardo could corner me like this. Maybe I was still under the delusion that I could understand him, fix him, or maybe I was tired of running tonight.

He threw back his head and let out a hearty chuckle. “As if you had a choice,” he said, as soon as he caught his breath. He leaned back in his chair, smirking at me like I was the most adorable woman in the world. “What I want, Dr. Mya, is simple. You.” He said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it wasn’t completely unhinged. “All of you. Mind, body, and soul. And I don’t share.”

This alter was beautiful when he laughed. His eyes were bright, and he didn’t seem like such a villain. But then his chuckles died down and he grew serious again. My heart stuttered at the bluntness of his words. There was no hesitation, no pretense. He wanted me in a way that was obsessive, all-consuming, and I couldn’t deny the shiver of fear that ran through me at the thought. He didn’t see me as a person; he saw me as his, something to be owned and possessed.

Before I could respond, the maitre d’ interrupted. He was far younger than both of us, and blushed when he addressed me. I thought it was rather adorable.

“W-what can I get you both to drink tonight?” he stammered.

“We’ll take your best Prosecco, Elio,” he demanded of the server.

Before the server could scurry away, I placed a calming hand over his shaking ones, reading his nametag as well. “Thank you, Elio. We appreciate your service.”

He rushed off, and I turned my attention to my menu. It was all in Italian, and I understood little of it. I lowered it to ask Riccardo if he could order for me, only to catch him glaring at me, his menu unopened beside his folded hands.

“What?” I asked, touching my cheek. “Is there something on my face?”

He shook his head no.

“Then why are you staring at me like that? Where I come from, looking at someone for too long can get you stabbed.” I took a small sip of my water.

I may be afraid of Riccardo, but I was done allowing him to intimidate me. I would say what I had to say, damn the consequences. It wasn’t like I had anyone waiting for me back home. If I figured Riccardo out and got rid of him, Sebastian would let go of the silly notion of marriage, and send me back to my home.

The server came back with the wine. He opened the bottle, and as he leaned forward to pour my glass, I felt the faintest brush of his skin against my shoulder. I gasped in surprise, and he lost control of his pour, spilling a bit of mine. I used a napkin to wipe it up, not even thinking of his touch. It was an accident. The harmless contact that happens a hundred times a day. A light casual touch that meant nothing, but to Riccardo, it was gasoline on a fire.

He was up in a flash, faster than I could even register. One moment, he was sitting calmly, and the next, he was looming over the poor kid, his gloved hand wrapped around his throat, as he slammed his face into the table. He leaned in close, his voice a low dangerous whisper. The server’s eyes widened in terror. His tray clattered to the floor as Riccardo squeezed. His face was a mask of cold, deadly intent.

My breath caught, panic surging as I watched the scene unfold. “Riccardo!” I shot up from my chair, my heart hammering in my chest. “Let him go!”

But Riccardo didn’t even flinch. His focus was entirely on the man struggling in his grasp, as if he’d already forgotten I was even there. He leaned in close, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent chills down my spine. “Touch her again,” he growled, each word slow and deliberate, “and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

The server’s face turned pale, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he clawed at Riccardo’s arm, desperate to get away. But Riccardo held him there, unflinching, like a viper toying with its prey. I knew then that this wasn’t just about a simple touch; this was a warning, an obvious message to anyone who dared to come between me and the man who saw me as his property.

“Riccardo, stop!” I reached for him, my fingers wrapping around his wrist, but he barely acknowledged me. His gloved grip only tightened, the server’s face reddening as he struggled to draw in air.

No one came running out of the kitchen to defend Elio. “Haven’t even gotten my appetizer yet, and all you can do is stare at her chest.” Riccardo released his grip, shoving the man away like he was nothing more than garbage. The server stumbled back, clutching his throat as he gasped for breath, eyes wide with terror.

I watched with sick fascination as Riccardo punished our server for the slight. Was this what the life was like?

“You think you can take that nasty tongue of yours and run it along her perfect body?” I heard Riccardo say.

“N-no, sir. I wasn’t… I-I mean–” He backed away, recognizing the predator in front of him.

“Are you saying my fiancée isn’t lickable?” Riccardo growled.

The server pissed his pants, and my fucking appetite was ruined. There I went again, cussing in my head, all because of this uncouth gangster before me.

“N-no, sir.”

Riccardo tsked. “I can’t tell the truth or a lie with you, boy. That’s truly unfortunate.” He grabbed the steak knife off the table with a gloved hand. “Open your mouth.”

“N-no, please, Don Caputo, I can do better. I swear,” Elio pleaded.

“I’m glad you know who I am, boy. I hope you know that I’m sparing your life. I’ve killed men for less.” Riccardo snapped his fingers, and the manager and two other men came out.

They held Elio down, and I lost my voice when Riccardo sawed away the server’s tongue. When he was finished, he tossed the appendage on the table between us. A sobbing woman came out of the kitchen, wearing an apron.

“Don Caputo,” she cried.

Riccardo straightened up, but didn’t respond.

“Please. You can’t leave him like this. The shame alone for our family. For our business.”

I didn’t understand what she was talking about, because she tore off into Italian so rapidly. The manager spoke, and everyone was talking over one another, except for Riccardo. He remained silent through it all.

“Enough.” One word. That was all he said to quiet the entire restaurant. Even the kitchen had gone silent.

“ Signore . Don Caputo, per favore .” The woman dropped down on her hands and knees, begging.

“Fine, but the boy’s father can do it. I wasn’t prepared to completely ruin my suit.” Riccardo ran a gloved hand down his lapel, fixing it.

The manager stepped forward. Was he Elio’s dad? He grabbed the knife from Riccardo and walked toward Elio. I sat still in my chair. I wanted to look away, but it was like a terrible car crash happening in slow motion in front of me.

His father, the manager, slashed the knife across his son’s throat, marking me across the face with his blood splatter.

I screamed in shock, unbelieving of what I’d just seen. Everyone ignored me, as the family profusely thanked him and apologized. My screaming cut off as soon as I had the power to stop.

The dining room cleared out, until it was just Riccardo and I, plus the dead body. Riccardo barked some Italian into his phone and hung up. His chest heaved, and I realized he’d been controlling his anger this whole time.

Terrified, I stayed seated, hoping if I didn’t move, he wouldn’t hurt me. That was what I was supposed to do when I ran into a predator, right? And that was what Riccardo Caputo was in this moment. A full on predator.

“W-why did you kill him?”

He peeled a glove off his hand, slowly capturing my attention. “Take off your clothes,” Riccardo demanded, ignoring my question.

“Wh-what?” I blinked at him, confused.

He leaned over the cooling dead body and snarled, “I said, take off your fucking clothes, before I rip them off your body.”

I stood on shaky legs, and trembled as I peeled off my clothes. Tears welled in my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. I would never let him see me as weak. Ever.