Page 4 of Serendipity
“Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m hungry as well?” I asked while he carried me to God knows where. A grumble was all I got as we went from one room to another, all blood from my body slowly going to my head. “Where are you taking me? It’s a dungeon, isn’t it?”
“Jesus, do you ever shut your mouth?”
“On very rare occasions.” I grinned against his back. “But when I’m stressed out, I usually talk… A lot.”
“No shit.”
“It’s your fault, you know? You kidnapped me in the middle of my lunch break. My day was already a shitshow, and now this. I just hope they’ll use one of the more flattering pictures when they plaster my face all over town. My mom thinks every single one of my pictures is pretty, but trust me, they’re not.”
“Why would they need to use your photo all over town?” he asked, holding me tight to his shoulder.
“Uh, because you kidnapped me, and no one knows where I am?” I almost added duh, but decided against it. Was he for real with this, or?
“Right,” he grumbled.
“No, but really. What are you going to do with me? If you’re not going to kill me right now, then I feel like I should tell you that I would make a terrible slave.”
“I wonder why.”
“Right? I talk too much, and I laugh during inappropriate times. For instance, a few years back, my friend told me that she couldn’t go to school because she lost her rabbit. I started laughing, because how the fuck do you lose a house rabbit? I asked her if they found him, to which she replied that he died. How was I supposed to know that she meant that?”
“God.” He sighed.
“You truly don’t want to sell me. I’m not even that good-looking. Maybe if I slept more, if I ate better and generally took care of my health, but I don’t have time for that.”
“Seriously, just keep quiet,” he gritted out.
“Not until you tell me what you’re going to do with me.”
A minute passed—a minute too long—because, dammit, I needed to know. If I was going to die today, I at least deserved to know in advance.
“We’re going to make a video of you, and then we’re going to send it to your father.”My father?“If he doesn’t agree to our terms, well,Principessa, then you might die.”
Wait, wait, wait. Hold the fuck up. My father? Edward Devine? The same father that disappeared from my life fifteen years ago?
He started going down the stairs while I pondered what he said.
“And, uh, my father.” I cleared my throat. “Is he also part of your group?”
“Don’t pretend to be dumb, Alessia. We both know you’re not.” Yeah, I knew I wasn’t dumb, but his earlier statements made no sense.
Plenty of people thought I was Italian because of my first name, but that and my love for pasta were the only two Italian things about me. I didn’t even look Italian, for fuck’s sake.
“Okay, okay, I’m really not trying to pull your leg over here, but…” I paused. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” There was no other explanation.
As soon as those words left my mouth, he pulled me off his shoulder and put me in front of him, my legs shaking from the position he held me in. I bent down to pull my pants up when he started speaking again.
“What’s your name?”
I straightened up and buttoned my pants, shaking first my left then my right leg, trying to get the blood flowing, all the while looking at him. I really wished I had a camera to capture this moment, because it was there, written all over his face—they fucked up.
“Alessia.” I grinned.
“Alessia, what?” Impatient much?
“Alessia Devine.” My smile spread even wider at his horrified expression. “Now can I get something to eat? Please?”
“Cazzo,” he thundered, turning his back to me.
