chapter 5


Frank radios a caretaker to clean up my mess. I apologize profoundly to the caretaker, who assures me that he has seen the worst and he's glad that it was just vomiting and not a dead body, which is apparently rare [not the dead bodies]. Frank hurries me back to the room I was in.

"Grab your things," he orders. "My things? What things?" I ask, confused. My things were taken away when they hit me on the head.

He points at my purse that's sitting in the corner of the room. It definitely wasn't there before. I quickly grab my bag to see if my phone is still inside and obviously it's not. Why would it be?

"Where are we going?" I'm more afraid than curious.

"You're going to be given a room, as per the request of the boss," he says.

"A room where?"

"At his home," he answers. I raise a brow, "Where are we now?" "You ask too many questions for someone who is not in the position to be asking questions," Frank rolls his eyes. "And? Why can't I ask questions?" I die either way, no? He lets out a defeated groan, "This is his main office building."

"He only has three floors?" That doesn't sound right. "No, the elevator we used is a separate elevator from the main one. This elevator only allows access to three floors," he explains. Oh... that's why Frank scans an I.D before he clicks any buttons on it. Makes sense.

As he escorts me to a blacked-out SUV through a door, that's obviously not the main entrance. This is when I notice the office building, and to my surprise, it was so tall that I almost broke my neck trying to look up too fast. I know the place didn't feel like a house, but now that I think about it, I couldn't even feel where we were. Not knowing or understanding your surroundings can feel like such a frightening thing.

"You're taking too long," Frank shoves me lightly to take a seat. As the car pulls into the main road, every bit of confidence I had, instantly disappears as my heart sinks.

I gasp, "We're in New York City?!"

No, no, no, no... this can't be it. This can't be happening. Not only that I in a completely different city, but I'm also in a completely different country!

The gagging, sickly feeling comes back as I start to feel unwell. Escape seems like a faraway dream now... I just sold... my body... my body? Is that what he said? He couldn't possibly mean it, can he?

He can't possibly be that cruel... he can't... he can't... "Lady, if you throw up again, I won't hesitate to stab your eyes out," Frank warns. "I have a name, it's Zara," I mutter.

"I just threatened to stab your eyes out," he raises a brow. "Well, I just sold myself to the man I was in love with since high school and now I'm in a different country, away from my family and friends, who are probably worried sick. So, stabbing me in the eyes doesn't sound so bad, does it?" I frown.

"It does," he answers. "You're right. It does, stab me. Do it. Gouge my eyes out! In fact, how about you gouge out all my healthy, internal organs and sell them on the black market for some profit?" My voice starts shaking.

"I'll take you up on that offer once Boss is done with you," he smirks. "Promise?" I ask quietly. The seriousness in my tone is reinforced. A slight look of concern flashes across his eyes, but disappears quickly,


"Promise me that once he's done with me, you'll kill me," I plead. "Stab me, shoot me, harvest my organs until there's nothing left of me but promise to get rid of me."

"Relax, lady," he shifts in his seat. I can tell I've clearly made him uncomfortable with my forward behavior. I wish I could say that this is a joke, I really wish. My mind has entered into a state where it's planning on disassociating whenever anything traumatic or uncomfortable happens to me. It's always been a sort of toxic trait of mine, I just disassociate. I'm physically there but mentally, I've imprisoned myself somewhere else. Something as small as presentations? I read the script but don't remember how I got through it.

Parental fights? I remember the screaming and yelling but don't remember if I was actually there. I push traumas and fears so far back that it's storing up somewhere in my mind, waiting to explode one day because I was too much of a coward to face them. I easily accept the fate handed to me because I'm always in fear of the repercussions.

I'm a coward, that's all there is to it.

I could've fought Alejandro right there and then but I froze, choosing to store it as another traumatic memory, hoping it would go away. But now I realize, it won't go away because, again, I accepted the fate that he handed to me.

Compartmentalizing is the word for it, I believe. And that's the toxic trait I'll be utilize until there's none of me left, all because I'm nothing but a coward.

• • •

I hadn't realized we reached his home, but once I look up, I see that it was a tall, luxury apartment building. "Where is this?" I ask, gazing up at the building.

"TriBeCa, Manhattan," Frank answers as he opens the door for me. "Tribeca? As in the—five minutes away from SoHo— Tribeca?" There's an obvious shock in my voice. "For a lady from up north, you know your New York neighborhoods," he says, slightly impressed.

"How can you not know this? You'd have to sell a kidney and liver to afford one month's rent—oh." There really isn't any escape from the organ selling conversation.

"Boss owns the whole building," Frank ignores my comment about the kidney and liver. "Only members belonging to the Cosa nostra are able to rent or purchase apartments in this building."

"Cosa nostra?" I feel like I heard this term in movies like The Godfather or Goodfellas. Both the movies are about... organized crime families...No, I'm just overthinking this, I have to be. What are the odds that I'm actually kidnapped by the mafia?

But at this point, is being kidnapped by the mafia my biggest problem or the fact that I, a woman, just sold my body to a cruel man to save my family from getting slaughtered?

The doorman greets Frank, completely overlooking me as if I don't even exist.

The lobby is a sight to see, luxury doesn't even begin to describe it. "Hey, Frank!" The pretty woman at the front desk greets him.

"Hey, everything ready upstairs?" He asks.

She nods. "Are you Ms. Zara?" She smiles, suddenly noticing me. I peak out from behind Frank, nodding.

"She's so cute! Oh my God!" She squeals, making me blush. Her smile quickly drops to her frightened frown, "Wait, she's the one?"

Frank doesn't answer, he pushes me forward slightly to get me to start walking ahead while giving the woman at the desk a cautious look. She quickly looks down, away from our direction, as if she didn't just acknowledge me.

"Keep walking, lady," he says to me.

Once we enter the elevator, Frank taps his card right under all the buttons for each floor, which reveals a keypad. He enters four digits into the keypad, which memorizes for an escape I may or may not plan later.

0621. 0621. 0621. 0621.

He finally clicks the button for the penthouse. "Penthouse? I went from a windowless room with no lights to a penthouse?" I ask in shock.

"As per Boss' requests," his answers are always blunt, which I appreciate sometimes.

However, he never answers more than what I ask, meaning, he never explains anything. This irks me but I'm not really in the position to be annoyed, now, am I? The elevator door opens straight into the actual apartment and my jaw drops.

This is absolutely amazing. Gorgeous. Spectacular. My poor eyes can't even afford to stare. The floor-to-ceiling windows replace most of the outer walls. The sunlight peeking through makes this place look bigger and even more luxurious, if possible. The entrance has a large, grand piano placed in the middle, with a seating area on the right and a long Island-like white marble table on the left. There's also a modern fireplace placed against a white marble backspace in front of the table.

God, the ceiling is so high, that I'd never guess that this is an apartment.

My eyes trail to the windows... The view from the windows can have my heart and soul, it overlooks the heart of New York City... the view is a dream, yet I'm trapped in a nightmare. I begin to take my shoes off at the entrance when Frank stops me,

"What are you doing?"

"Taking off my shoes?" I look back at him, just as confused. "What for?" He asks.

I blink a couple of times, not understanding at first, "You don't take off your outdoor shoes when you walk around the house?"

He raises a brow. "There's no way—and I mean, no way—will you ever see me walking around inside the house with outdoor shoes on," I huff. "It's like some unspoken sin to do that."

"Lady, I don't have time to babysit you," He sighs. "I don't even know why I was assigned to you when I have much more important matters to attend to. With that being said, I believe our meeting ends here."

"What do you mean?" I frown.

Did I just get attached to unfriendly Frank?

Well, I suppose he was the only humane contact I had ever since being thrown into this black hole. "That means, I am no longer responsible for you," he explains. "This is a goodbye."

Ah, damn. I was never good with goodbyes.

"Will I never see you again?" My voice cracks slightly. God, this is embarrassing.

There's a clear surprise in Frank's expression, "I do nothing without the Boss's consent. If he orders it, you'll see me again." Again with the blunt, unexplained answers.

I nod, understanding his position.

Seeing that Alejandro doesn't think before pulling out his gun, it would be best if I didn't push the subject.

"Do I... uh... get a room or...?" I try to ask as humbly as possible. "You do. I was going to show you before I left," he gestures for me to follow him. We stop in front of a dark wood door, which he opens slowly. "This is it," he says, moving out of my way so I can see.

No. Damn. Way.

- - - -

Please vote and comment and let me know how y'all feel!!

Next chapter will be updated soon.


Comments (4)
goodnovel comment avatar
Angela Young
Love Sara..why did Alenhandro be a butthole? wanna read more.. :)
goodnovel comment avatar
Stephanie Hyde
Try to make the best of it. obviously Alejandro likes you he just dont like showing his emotions. and what did the secretary downstairs mean by Is she the one?
goodnovel comment avatar
Zena Whichard
Be brave Zara!

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