Kidnapped by My Ruthless Mafia Fiancé

He was damn tired. The meeting scheduled in the previous evening extended for more than expected time and the weather changed out of blue. 

His flight got canceled. The matereology department reported it was the coldest day of the year in the city of California. The dark clouds occupied the blue sky like a thick blanket. It was shortly going to rain cats and dogs. “This sucks!” He grunted fisting and unfisting his hands. 

Coming back to his executive suite, he saw his phone ringing. “Hello son, how are you?” How did the cotton export deal go?” Ariana, his mom, was speaking on the other end in her ever cheerful tone. 

Anthony Rodriguez, hotter than hell and maddeningly dominant, is the adopted son of Allen Rodriguez since the age of sixteen. 

Ten years later, he is the king of the Boston Underworld who makes his own rules. In the chronology of killing looks, he is terrifying… and extremely charismatic. Smart and cold are the added adjectives to him with absolutely no human values. 

“I'm fine mom. The deal went successful and soon we will be the leading distributors of cotton yawns in the Russian market too.” Anthony said gleefully.

“Congratulations Son. Have a good rest now. We will talk tomorrow.” Anthony’s eyes skidded over the dropping snow and his ears once again recorded those novice chuckles.

“Hey Anthony, would you like to make a snowman like me?”  Her svelte fingers with beautifully painted nails were a sight to watch all day. The  smile was seemingly seductive with lips arranged in a cupid’s bow. Those brown eyes, which are ridiculously alluring….. A crooked smile danced on his lips. Cognac-brown to be exact. Last but not least were those long black wavy curls which felt like midnight beauty engraving his body like the bright sunlight in the dark blue sky whenever they were together.

The protesting muscles of his limbs told him just how exhausted he was as he wrestled with sleep. But there was no chance. Now that she is once again right behind his closed eyes.

A sigh flowed from him as he mentally kicked himself for the humorous memory once again. The covers flipped back with a simple flex of his muscular arm, and he swung his feet to the red carpeted floor. With the heels of his hands, he rubbed the weight of sleep from his eyes.

Appeased, he was not going to get any more sleep; he got up and strolled over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window of the hotel room, staring out at the bright city lights of California. 

The weak shade of light from the corner lamp silhouetted his tall, muscular frame in the darkness as he stood stark naked and pensive before the window. 

How much longer? How much longer will it be before I can regain the missing half of my soul? - he thought.

It is high time he taught that rogue a lesson whom she called her father. Just how long was he going to use her innocence to his benefit? It doesn't mean because he is handicapped, he can use her the way he wants. She belongs to him. His property. And if that disgusting piece of shit tried to rebel, he’d give the son of a whore a torturously painful ending. No more chances. 

The shrill of his cell phone broke through the silence, and he went to scoop it off the nightstand. A glance at his caller ID had him slightly panicked. “Rudolph, at this hour?” He couldn't stop saying it aloud and growled into the receiver. 

“Please tell me she’s okay.” Request was not a word available in his dictionary. But if it was regarding her anything was possible. She could bring out the most intense and unexpected emotions in him.

“Yes, Mr. Anthony, she’s sound. But…” Rudolph hesitated to speak further for the coldness of his boss. Anthony looked like he was ready to blow his head and would not hesitate when he was angry. He is the most dangerous among all the three Rodriguez brothers and bomb in the history of the American mafia.

“Out with it, Rudolph!” Anthony's voice turned restless. With every thought of her, his heart ached like a curse from hell. It’s as if a bullet was left lodged right in the center of his heart, killing him slowly, painfully, surely. 

“She took a job at Night Queen, Sir.” 

“Night Queen? My club? What the hell’s she doing there?” He barked. One by one, he cracked his knuckles, trying his best not to think anything disastrous about her before knowing the reality. He failed. Knuckle cracking no longer worked as a distraction. “Say bartending. Please.” 

Rudolph paused for a moment. “No, Sir. She’s stripping.” 

“Fuck!” As if he’d been touched with livewire, his entire being became fully awake, eyes wide and weariness completely gone. Anger boiled in his nerves like in a furnace. Things were getting out of hand. 

“Her job as the Barista in the restaurant..… what happened to it?” 

“She lost it a week after when she went there drunk after a fight with her drug addict mother.”

His chest suddenly felt vacant and heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. “So she has no chance to work there again like a Barista. I will talk to the cafe’s owner.”

“I don't think that's a good idea, sir. Our enemies are behind us because you did not accept their offer for the arms deal and they know she belongs to you. Since the Night Queen is owned by you, they won't dare to attack her. She is safe there.”

“Then why am I fucking hearing all this from you now? She left her job at the cafe and is employed by the Night queen. And I know nothing of this till this day.Why am I filling your pockets?”  His fingers curled into mighty, determined fists. He would tolerate this nuisance no longer and needed to reclaim what is his.

“I’m sorry, Sir. We’ve been trying to reach you for the past few weeks, but we kept getting your assistant. And you gave us instructions not to leave messages about any matter regarding Celeste with anyone. So…” 

Fuck he was right. For the past six weeks he’s been doing some heavy traveling and making deals, being a work addict that he was! Hell, he should’ve known all this. 

A sick feeling lingered in his stomach. If she had to pick up a job as a stripper, it meant she was in quick need of hard cash. He had never left her alone and had been her shadow in her thick and thin. Be it arranging funds or looking for the medical needs of her mother. What is troubling her now? She was hurting and in need. She shouldn’t be hurting when he could so easily take her pain away. She shouldn’t be in need of anything when she is soon to be wife of Anthony Rodriguez, the leader of the American mafia. “When did she start the work?” 

“She will start from tonight, Sir.” 

“Perfect.” Anthony said in sarcastic laughter while pacing the length of the room. His fingers raked through his hair repeatedly. “From now on, I should be informed on every action she takes. Got it? It doesn’t matter how busy I am. Don’t stop calling until you get through to me. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good. Now reschedule all my meetings because tomorrow the first thing I am doing is fly to New York.” His fingers trembled as he disconnected the call and sank to his knees, dropping his head in his hands. ‘My sweet, brown-eyed girl, what are you doing to yourself?’ 

Ten days later…

The ambient glow of iridescent lights enveloped her, throwing diaphanous rays on her partially exposed form. She entwined her bare legs around the chilling embrace of the stainless-steel pole—the fortress of her transient sanctuary. 

“Why can’t I strip when others can? Am I your daughter?” Celeste made a heedless indulgence of her manager giving him a finger and drowned herself in a half a bottle of Jonny Walker. 

In a mere time of two minutes her act had proven to be folly. It was rendering her mind to go in circles, her vision was in a haze, and her bones were as pliable as wax much against her expectation.

Amidst the throng of affluent patrons, whose faces adorned with lascivious grins and waving wads of currency, Celeste discerned Mr. Cold Mogul who came to the club only to see her dance since she took over this new job. 

He is an enigmatic figure, enduringly established in his secluded booth. His gaze was irreplaceably steadfast and unwavering upon her with an intensity that both intrigued and unnerved her to her core.

At times, this waggish feeling flitted through her inebriated consciousness that perhaps he was a receptor of danger, lurking amidst the shadows. Nevertheless, despite the inscrutable veil enveloping his persona, there existed an undeniable allure, a magnetic pull in his eyes that held her captivated to him. 

Emboldened by the liquid courage coursing through her veins, she dared to cast him a flirtatious wink, only to be met with a disdainful scowl and averted gaze from him.

Her gestures of goodwill, feeble attempts to develop a friendship between them were met with a silent turnoff, much like her resolute refusal of his persistent requests for private encounters. 

He remained like a cryptogram, cloaked in a coulee attire, exuding an aura of intimidation that held her at arm's length always. It was also a reason for her dissent from his repeated solicitation of private meetings. And She bestowed upon him the epithet of Mr. Cold Mogul.

Amidst the pulsating beats of Britney Spears' "Toxic," she ascended her metallic sanctuary, succumbing to the intoxicating rhythm. Yet, within the tumult of sensations, the stark reality of her life emerged—her father's bankruptcy looming large and her mother's escalating healthcare needs casting a shadow over her disoriented state.

The drunken men were gazing at her in a lecherous gale. With a blend of defiance in her mind and trepidation in her legs because of lack of control on alcohol, she endeavored to liberate herself from the constraints of my undergarments, heedless of the manager’s arbitrary dictates. No doubt she was a mess in doing the stuff but much against her expectation she could ultimately see it! The storm in his eyes in the form of anger. 

If she was not a keen observer, she could have missed it - the surreptitious move of his index finger telling someone to drive something away. And then it happened! Within a blink of her eye, all the Casanovas whose eyes were on her in thirsty stares disappeared like a fog in the atmosphere after a bright sunlight. She needs the money and she thought she could very well nail it on the day but for his possessive watch on her.

Who the bloody hell was he? 

In a heartbeat neither could she see Mr Cold Mogul nor the greedy orbs of Lotharios on her.

Soon blackness surrounded her and the last thought was - As cold as a mystery that his eyes were to the world outside bizarrely they only ventilated warmth to her eyes, a feel of protection and safety. 

She flicked open her eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to focus on her surroundings. Catching a familiar form, her eyes tentatively traveled up to the glowering gaze of her pissed-off boss. "What the hell’s wrong with you tonight, huh? Why did you try to defy me? I told you: do not remove your bra!!" He growled. 

Unable to form a coherent sentence, Celeste groaned. Her eyes darted around the cluttered room. "It's an enigma why this rule applies only to me." She said in indignation. "How the hell am I supposed to make money? I'm not allowed to dance with anyone and I'm not allowed to go topless. So what’s the point of me being here?" 

Manager looked frustrated. “You don’t need the money. Everything will be taken care of! Leave this place and get employed somewhere decent." Celeste stared blankly up at him as if he’d spoken a distinct language. 

“I lost my job merely a week after I went there drunk. My insane mother wouldn’t stop doing drugs despite her weak heart, my father is stuck in a wheelchair losing one of his legs. I am the sole breadwinner of my house. I am not even able to pay for the rental of my matchbox size flat. The house owner is behind me for it. Anyways forget it!” Celeste closed her eyes and swung an arm across her face. 

Sasha ran in. “What happened to you?”

As if she did not have enough drama, her friend too is here. “I'm fine. Just a bit of headache and feeling a little tipsy.”

Sasha huffed out. “Come out and see what your Romeo is doing. 

All the drowsiness in Celeste was lost in a shot. She was out of the club like gail and saw Mr Cold beating the shit out of the old hogs who were making a meal of her body until a few minutes ago. His closed fists repeatedly attacked one of the faces, making his nose bleed and as red as a tomato. With the other hand he pulled the hair of another guy and hit his head repeatedly to the tree trunk situated ahead of them. 

While both the men growled in pain and succumbed to the ground in their half conscious state, he walked two steps ahead and punched holes in the stomach of another with his fists. No matter how much he hit them, the anger in his cells wouldn’t precipitate. “Throw these old pieces of flesh in a nearby hospital.” He gnawed at his man and walked out of the arena.

Frankly speaking, Celeste did not know whether she liked or hated the view before her. His well corded muscles and tattooed arms were in perfect display in the style of a soldier defending his country. Those gray eyes which often felt like a mystery were now cold in mariner blue.  

She controlled her intense emotions for him and asked in a neutral tone. “What do you intend to do by bringing their bones out of their body?

And the answer he gave her next turned her entire world topsy turvy.