Page 1 of Abducted By the Mafia Don

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TAGGIE

Tonight, I’m like Sleeping Beauty. One kiss, and I’m outta here.

Get my first kiss, then leave this bramble-infested—fine they’re people, but they scratch at me like brambles—place forever. Night clubs are not my thing.

Also like Sleeping Beauty, I’ve accepted the first man who comes along. Is this guy a prince? Euuhhh… I’m not asking questions. Enthusiasm has to count for something, right? And Lance—I think that’s his name anyway, the club was loud—is very enthusiastic.

I really thought I’d lose my k-card to an older man. There’s even someone I’ve seen around a few times who would be my dream first kiss. But it’s Friday night, and while I couldn’t find any of the girls from my university course who said they’d be here, blond and nice Lance with his big smile and dull small talk approached me at the bar, and he’s… Okay.

We couldn’t really converse much over the music, so when he suggested we go somewhere quieter, I thought whynot? A girl has to live her life and get rid of her first kiss sometime, and before turning twenty-one would be good.

“You don’t mind if my brothers join us,” Lance says, and it’s not quite a question as two other young men catch up with us as we step out into the street. I shiver and tug down the skirt of my not-particularly short dress, because it’s dark and chilly, the late Spring evening turning cold.

“Hi.” I glance at Lance’s brothers. They look similar to him. Lanky, blond, wearing deck shoes with no socks, chinos, and pale pastel-coloured shirts. “You’re coming with us to the pub?”

Not much chance of talking or kissing with the four of us. Despite their posh and harmless appearance, chilled water slides down my spine as I look into their dark-blue eyes.

“Hey Agatha,” says the chubbier one, giving me a thin-lipped smile.

I bristle. Not only did Lance somehow text his brothers, he told them to call me Agatha? My full name the way he says it makes me sound like I’m a virgin old lady with a crochet teapot cover and a yappy little dog.

And twenty-one isnotold, and I don’t have any pets. Yet.

“Taggie,” I correct him. “Everyone calls me Taggie.”

“Sure, Agatha,” he sneers.

What am I doing? This isn’t me. Even though an older man has made me inexplicably horny with his mere presence, this isn’t what I want. I’ve never been into guys my own age.

“Shut up, Boris,” says the other brother.

We’re at the corner of a dark side street, and you know, maybe I’m done for this evening. Perhaps I’m not sleeping beauty. No kiss for me.

I stop walking.

“I think I might just call it a night.” I feign a yawn. “You go on. I’ll get a taxi.”

“Ahh don’t be a spoilsport,” says Lance, hooking his arm through mine with a surprisingly tight grip and pulling me around, down the alleyway.

“Yeah,” chimes in Boris, wrapping his arm over my shoulder in an over-friendly manner that simultaneously makes my skin crawl and traps me from bolting away. “The night is young. Don’t leave us yet.”

“The pub isn’t this way.” My voice comes out high and frightened. “Where are we going?”

“George knows a funshortcut, don’t you, George,” replies Boris, and they all laugh.

“I certainly do,” George replies, and there’s something in the words that really scares me.

I try to pull away, but they hold me tighter, almost dragging me along into the deserted street, the tarmac wet beneath my scraping feet.

“Come on, you knew what you were getting into,” Lance says with a sickly smile.

“I didn’t!” I bleat. “I just thought we’d go to the pub.”

“You sluts want more than that.” George grabs his crotch meaningfully, angling it at me, and their laughter is loud and cruel.

Mad, animal panic overtakes me, and I throw myself around and down, escaping the only thing in my head now. That and terror. I get under Boris’ arm, but Lance’s fingers bite into my wrist, sending crippling pain all the way up to my shoulder.