SIX

ANASTASIA

I kept screaming until my there was a pain in my throat. The door stood firm, making sure it was filled with darkness all around me. I was locked in and not a single person was coming to get me.

Oh God. No.

Oh God. I would die here.

I felt my throat go as dry as a burnt wood. This was a dream I dread. Caged in below ground, where no one would find me.

Was there even air down here? Chest burning, I fell to my knees. How long would it take to suffocate? A few hours?

I could feel hysteria edging out the plain old panic in my mind. The therapist I saw for my claustrophobia had said to breathe and to count to one hundred, that remaining calm was the key.

I shut my eyes and began counting numbers to help me calm and steady my breathing but that was useless too. The muddy air kept mocking me.

How many men had died in these walls?

Has Ravazzani killed anyone here?

Of course he has, Ana. As the Capo of one of the most Dangerous Mafia Families in Italy.

Could there be ghosts of people here? Souls that haven't been laid to rest.

Oh, ffuck

I clammed my hands together, nails clawing deep Into my flesh. The pain was stinging but it helped, to tell myself that in wasn't dead yet.

He would come get me eventually. I had to marry his son, after all. Bitterness filled my mouth. By the time they let me out of here, my mind will probably have snapped. I'll be stark raving mad by then. I gave a hollow laugh.

Maybe then he would send me back to Toronto, declare me too unfit to wed the precious Ravazzani heir.

Maybe he would order my death.

I swung my body back and forth, to keep myself from thinking of death, or blood. How did my life come to this in just few hours? Just two days ago, I was a lively young lady who had just turned eighteen on her way to college.

I planned to study botany.

Something with plants and science where I could be outdoors. But look at me now? Locked in a dungeon far away from home and if I leave, I would be made to marry a man I didn't even know existed.

I heard something, tiny claws of an animal running around. My pulse went high and I could practically hear my own heartbeat.

Oh, my God.

What was that?

A mouse?

No, the sounds from thw claws were too big for a mouse. It had to be a eat. I pulled my gown down to my toes and wrapped myself as tight as I could, my eyes wide and moving, and I kept swinging back and forth.

I hoped Ravazzani found my rat-eaten corpse. It would serve him right, the ssh*l.

I must have gone into a trance because the next thing I know is that I'm being lifted off the ground by strong arms.

A warm muscled chest met the side of my faceand I didn't fight. I couldn't. I clung to my rescuer, desperate for escape.

“I am really sorry, Signora.” A voice that low had a calming effect on me. I didn't even know who he was or see his face but I didn't care. The voice told me all I needed to know.

Someone had come to save.

And it wasn't Santino Ravazzani. He began carrying me up the stairs.

“My father has seemed to act like a bastard today.” he said, voice low and laced with disappointment.

"My father can be a real b*st*rd sometimes." The words were spoken quietly, as if he were speaking to himself.

"You are Nico." I hiccuped into the rough skin of his throat, tears still leaking from my eyes.

"I am. You must be Anastasia Mancini."

I nodded and hung on tighter to him, I needed to feel his warmth and let it warm me up. That cold cell got into my bones. “Th.. I'm.. You rescued me. Thank you kind sir.”

He gave a little laugh, “Kind sir? My name is Nico and besides… being down was never part of the plan and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.”

"Your father....”

"Has a temper. And you stabbed him with a pen. Not that I am excusing his behavior."

We got to the top of the stairs and I could see the sky stretch out with stars overhead. The heavy lump in my chest dissapeared and I took a big deep breath since I left the plane. The air had scents of dirt and grass, a cure to my sensitive nerves.

I'm okay now. You aren't locked in any more.

"You can put me down," I told him through my chattering teeth. "I can walk."

“I'm sorry but I can't. You were literally catatonic when I saw you few minutes ago. It best I carry you in.”

I was? I took a deep breath and relaxed my head on his biceps. “I have a phobia for dark and small spaces.

Nico cursed in Italian. "I apologize, Anastasia. I would like to think he wouldn't have put you there had he known...."

The implication was clear that Santino Ravazzani was no stranger to cruelty. That he would gladly use a person's weakness against them. Jesus, what a prize.

Before I could comment, we entered the castle. A small room led into a kitchen, which was surprisingly modern for a place with an actual dungeon.

"I'll have Tia bring up hot tea," Nico said as he continued into the house. "That's my aunt. She lives with us and does most of the cooking."

Calming down, I began to look around curious about this different type of prison. The contrast with the dungeon was startling.

What I could see was light and airy with gleaming wood accents and light plaster walls. Huge oval windows were framed with tasteful draperies and tile covered the floor. I had to admit, it was more beautiful than our home in Toronto.

Something else caught my attention as I was looking. No cameras. Not a single one.

This was good, I kept it at the back of my head.

"This is my wing of the house,"

Nico said. "My father stays on the other side."

Thank God. I had no desire to see Santino Ravazzani ever again.

Nico carried me past several rooms, including a study with shelves of books and a music room. He paused in the middle of the corridor.

Nico carried me and walked past several rooms, I had seen one with a huge library, shelves of book and I also saw a music room.

“That one right there is my room,” he pointed at a big brown door. “And thissss.. Is your room.”

The room was huge. Not what I ever pictured, there was this huge king sized bed that had an decorative metal headboard. And by the side, was an decorative piece of table dressed in chaise longue and vintage dressing table.

It was both feminine yet classic and I couldn't help but admire it. As much as one can admire a prison. Nico continued through the room to a small bathroom. The size of this room was overwhelming, I kept taking deep breaths as he carefully placed me on the countertop like I was a fragile glass.

I was never going back to that hell of a dungeon.

Nico stepped away and thrust his hands into his pockets. Messy dark brown hair fell across his forehead effortlessly, a look that actors and rock stars probably paid a stylist a sh*t ton of money for.

He had his dad's jaw and eyes, but his face was longer. More elegant. Whereas Ravazzani was brutally handsome, Nico was refined and gorgeous.

And his body was rangy and thin, not yet filled out with the strength of his father. Various tattoos ran along his forearms. Luna was right-Nico was a total snack.

"Are you a model?" I blurted, only half-joking.

The side of his mouth hitched. "I could ask you the same, Anastasia Mancini. After all, modeling is in your blood and I am told you look like your mother."

“I wanted to once,” I said shrugging. “But the modeling agencies all over Toronto kept saying the same thing. My boobs were too big.”

Nico gave an innocent smile and surprisingly, his face was still on my face unlike other guys who would immediately glance at my boobs.

"It is their loss." he seemed uncomfortable with the way he mood.

"I should let you shower. You must be exhausted." He turned for the door.

He can't just leave.

Shouldn't there be things to discuss, like how we are being made to marry him.

"Nico, wait!" When he paused, I said, "Are you okay with this? Us, getting married, I mean. Wouldn't you rather choose your own bride instead of marrying some random?"

His eyes were flat and resigned, hardly the excitement of a man about to be married. "It doesn't matter what I wish. It only matters what he wishes."

"You can't possibly expect me to believe there's nothing you can do. You're his only son. We could help each other, tell him we don't suit. You could come up with a complaint or accuse me of something.”

“It's useless. Añastacia, my father will not believe me and he already knows I have no interest in this plan, and besides, once he decides on nothing, nothing you ever do can change his mind about it.”

The floor and walls titled, like there were going to suffocate me. My palms became moist. I wasn't about to give up.

"Nico, I don't want this. I want to go home, back to Toronto. I just turned eighteen, I just want to go to college.”

“I'm truly sorry Añastasia, but nothing can be done.”

I had this sudden urge to shout out my frustration but again, my throat was hurting. “ It's Aña,” I whispered, feeling the need to be addressed by the name I grew up with. It would at least be the only thing that reminded me of home and feel like home.

"Cosa?"

"Everyone calls me Ana."

"Ana," he said quietly, his gaze full of pity. "Cheer up. At least we'll be miserable together."

After that cryptic statement, he left me alone in the bathroom