Chapter 100: BONUS STORY: Tanya & Enzo

ONE:

Tanya's POV:

I must be crazy accepting an invitation from a man I didn't even know to fly across the continent but if it meant that I got to see Natalia, then it was worth it.

I was anxious, impatiently at the airport for for this ‘Carlo’ to pick me up. I haven't seen my girl in months since the crazy fucker stole her from her home and maybe I would give him a piece of my mind once he got here.

‘Wouldn't that get you killed, Tanya? He's dangerous.’

Fuck that.

If he was going to kill me, he would have done so when he sent his men to threaten me after I tried contacting the FBI via Nat's request.

I was still talking to myself when three, sleek black cars came to a stop in front of me. I squinted.

Now, I don't know shit about cars, but these look like they'd cost both of my kidneys, my heart, and my lung and still wouldn't be enough.

Seriously, how do some people make so much money while the rest of us wallow in poverty?

The doors opened and I instinctively stepped back to give whoever they were space until two men in all black with a mouthpiece hanging from their ears approached me and it all clicked.

Carlo's men…

A third stepped from the middle car, and while he looked scary like the two men dressed in black, he seemed above their level and his aura screamed, ‘Filthy rich, and dangerous.’

Was that Carlo?

It should be Carlo, right?

When I didn't move from beside the car, letting the other two men carry my bags wordlessly, it was a no-brainer that it was indeed, Carlo.

“Please, come with us, Miss,” One of his bodyguards said.

I would like to ask how they knew I was the one they were waiting for but it was pointless, of course they knew, they've held me, hostage, before, I'm sure they know every detail about me probably to meals I dislike or like….

Without a word, I followed them, they moved around to put my things away as I approached Carlo. Icy blue eyes raked my form, expression unbothered maybe… bored.

“The infamous ‘Don Carlo,’”  I mocked and it just l came out ruder than intended, but I wasn't eating my words for shit. “Stole my best friend and now you won't give her back, does your government know what you're up to?” I paused, shaking my head. “Nevermind, I'm sure they do but they probably eat from your hands and think the sun shines out of your ass—”

“Get in,” he ordered.

Startled, embarrassed, and pissed, “Excuse me?”

“Get in the car, now,” his voice was lower this time, yet, it sounded more dangerous.

Not wanting to draw a scene, I climbed into the car and I watched as he climbed in next to me, slamming the door shut.

“Just for the record,” I began pointedly, “I'm not someone you could boss around. Please be respectful towards me, Carlo.” I made the point to call his name with the ‘Don’ title to get a rise out of him.

Of course, it didn't work. That same bored, expression remained on his face as he said, “I'm not ‘Carlo.’”

My brows dipped. “I… I… don't understand?”

Oh God. Please, don't tell me I've been kidnapped or something.

What the fuck?!

Fuck, I knew I should have been worried when no one bothered to ask my name or something.

“I'm not Carlo,” he repeated, turning his attention back to his phone. My heart thrashed violently, a belly-churning nausea crashed into me.

I was fucked.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my left hand already reaching for the door handle.

I’ve seen people jump out of moving vehicles in movies, I guess it was time to put that to use. Except, the door wouldn't budge.

Locked.

Even though my voice betrayed how I truly felt, I gave my all yelling, “WHO ARE YOU?”

Lazily, he dragged his eyes away from his phone. “I'm Enzo.”

As if that was supposed to fucking calm me down.

“Nice to meet you, Kitty Blondie.”

TWO:

Tanya's POV:

I gaped.

Kitty Blondie.

“How… How do you know that name?”

What in the world was going on!?

First, I discovered he wasn't Carlo and now, he knows my stage name!? Not even Natalia knew that.

It was something I swore to take to my grave.

“You've been spying on me,” I accused, my voice wavering. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Carlo's right hand.”

It took several moments for his words to settle through the thick fog of fear, anger, and confusion.

When it did register, I scowled, holding back a breath of relief, “Then why didn't you fucking say anything when I asked? Why didn't you say so when I kept calling you Carlo?”

He shrugged but said nothing.

I scoffed angrily, slumping against the expensive leather seat. “Of course, you were having fun watching me fool myself.”

“I wasn't,” he admitted, surprising me. “I just did not find it necessary, you'll eventually find out.”

I huffed.

Unbelievable.

But still, that didn't explain how he knew my stage name. The gentleman's club I worked at was strict, I never danced without masks and no phones—the rules were strict even though we catered to the elites only.

Hell, I don't even know the names of some of the girls I worked with, I hardly saw their faces. It was that strict around there.

A sick feeling settled in my gut.

What if… What if they'd told Natalia? And she told my mom or something?

Shit, I'd only started working there when I turned eighteen and needed to save up for college. Mom didn't have money to send me to college and would prefer if I worked odd jobs instead and I wasn't book smart to land a scholarship. I wanted a bright future for myself, to be able to move away from home and start something and that was how I found my way there. I—

“I won't tell a soul,” his voice penetrated my thoughts and I eyed him warily. “I'm a man of my word, Kitty Blondie—”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped.

He smirked, why? Isn't that what they call you?”

“You’re not allowed to call me that!” I gritted, my cheeks burning as I looked ahead.

Great.

What a way to start my stay in Italy.

The rest of the ride, I ignored him, everything about him. Not even the unique scent oozing from him made me give him my attention until I arrived.

All I needed to do was keep my distance from him until my stay here was over. How he knew what I did for a living was no longer my business. What he thinks of  me for the kind of job I partake in, was also not my business.

So what if he tells anyone? He has no proof of it.

That I’m sure of.