Page 5 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession (Vadim Bratva #12)

I'd tried everything from the window locks to even the goddamn air vents. Yet there seemed to be no way out.

My eyes burned from lack of sleep, and my thoughts felt like they were wrapped in barbed wire. I was tangling myself deeper into the what-ifs, and my mind felt like it would crack.

I flopped back onto the bed for the twelfth time that night, mentally kicking myself.

God, I'd mishandled everything. The screaming and the insults had felt good in the moment, but that was no way to get what I wanted.

I should have been sweet, tried to reason; maybe he would have let me call my family.

All I had now was a sore throat from all that shrieking and a nervous lump of anxiety permanently settled in my chest.

If I'd been smarter, calmer, I could have played along. Pretended to accept my situation while quietly looking for opportunities to contact my family or to escape. Instead, I'd thrown a tantrum like a child and telegraphed my every intention to escape.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I muttered, punching the pillow into a more comfortable shape.

The worst part was how every reaction gave Gastone a glimpse into what triggered me and what set me off. Meanwhile, what had I learned about him? That he had a temper to match mine. That he wasn't above manipulation. That he looked unfairly good for a man pushing forty.

I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. That last thought wasn't helpful at all.

The truth was, I'd never been in a situation like this before. Sure, I was a Lebedev surrounded by danger. But I'd always been sheltered from the uglier side of our family business. I knew how to shoot a gun and throw a punch, but I'd never had to talk my way out of captivity before.

Somehow, I managed a fitful sleep, but it certainly wasn’t restful. By the time I saw the sunlight peeking in through the curtains, I knew what I had to do. I needed to be smarter than Gastone Ajello. And step one was understanding my environment.

I forced myself out of bed despite having slept maybe an hour, tops. My dress from last night was crumpled beyond salvation, and I smelled like a gross nightclub. Charming.

After a hot shower that did little to improve my mood but at least made me feel human again, I wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel and assessed my options.

The closet was empty except for a bathrobe and, to my surprise, some women’s clothes that looked like they weren’t made for me. Maybe they were Larissa’s or something. Most didn’t fit, but I found one loose set of sweatpants and pulled on a simple black T-shirt.

Dressed and marginally more put-together, I cracked open the bedroom door and listened. The penthouse was quiet. Maybe Gastone was still asleep? Or—hopefully—out completely?

I slipped out and, this time around, noticed how big the place actually was. Before I jumped on the bandwagon of finding an escape, I knew I needed energy.

From how quiet the house was, if my guess was correct and Gastone was out, I could break doors and windows and not care about being overheard and caught—a privilege I didn’t have the previous night.

First stop: the kitchen. I needed coffee if I was going to chisel my way out of here.

The kitchen was state-of-the-art and far too clean. I found the coffee maker easily enough and set about making myself a cup.

Small victories: I was going to drink this asshole's expensive coffee while plotting my escape.

While the machine hummed to life, I found bread and popped it into the toaster. I had no time to eat more than some toast and cheese.

Coffee in hand, toast buttered and half-eaten, I started a more methodical exploration of my prison.

The living room had floor-to-ceiling windows with a stunning view of Manhattan, but they didn't open more than a few inches.

The main door required both a code and a fingerprint, as I'd discovered last night. Strike one and two.

There was a home office with a desktop computer that required a password, and a laptop that was similarly locked. Strike three. The balcony door was locked with what looked like a biometric scanner. Strike four.

I was running out of options, but at least I now had a mental map of the place. And knowledge was power, right?

The penthouse had five bedrooms, though only two showed signs of use—mine and what I assumed was Gastone's, which was closed. The living area opened onto a dining room, which connected to the kitchen. There was also a home gym, a small library, and a media room. The man had done well for himself.

As I circled back toward the kitchen for a coffee refill, I heard voices coming from behind a closed door I'd assumed was a closet. I froze, cup halfway to my lips, and listened.

“—Don't understand how the shipment could go missing.”

That voice. Of course, I knew that voice.

“I was thinking we need to barcode containers,” another familiar voice chimed in.

My heart quickened. Gastone wasn't alone.

He was in there with Dino and Carlo, his younger brothers, and I knew them from when they visited Larissa at the house.

They maintained careful contact with Larissa even after she chose Gio over her own family, even attended the baby shower, and came to see the baby.

I stood there, weighing my options. I could slink back to my room and continue exploring, looking for weaknesses. Or...

I could walk right into that room and blow up their little family meeting. From what I recalled, Dino and Carlo seemed to have been the more reasonable ones. They cared for Larissa, and I took a wild chance in guessing they’d care to protect her family out of loyalty, too.

Since Larissa married my brother, I guessed that made me family.

The decision made itself. I marched up to the door and threw it open without knocking.

All three men turned to face me, with various degrees of expressions on their faces. Gastone looked like he’d been caught stealing, while Dino and Carlo stared at me with identical expressions of shock.

And from the look on their faces, I knew Gastone hadn’t told them. I might have laughed if I weren't so furious.

“You must be wondering what I’m doing here,” I said to the younger brothers with a false brightness that was laced with fury. “Guess what? I’m wondering the exact same thing.”

“Elena,” Gastone said, his voice low with warning. “This is a private meeting.”

“Oh, is it? Silly me. I thought since we're married now, we should share everything.” I turned to the brothers. “I'd shake your hands and maybe even give you a hug, but I'm still a little raw from the zip ties your brother used on me last night.”

“ What ?” Both brothers exploded in unison, and I couldn’t help but let out a tiny smile in victory.

Dino looked between me and Gastone with growing alarm.

“What the hell is she talking about?” Dino demanded. “Zip ties?”

“Marriage?” Carlo paled.

I smiled. “Oh, your brother didn't give you the full story? Let me fill in the blanks. I was at Enigma last night, minding my own business, when I spotted Gastone. I thought—naive little me—that I could talk to him about reconnecting with Larissa, since she misses him so much.”

Gastone stood up slowly. “Elena—”

“Let me finish, husband dear,” I cut him off, enjoying the way he flinched at the term. “So I approached him, all good intentions, and do you know what he did? He pretended to listen, lured me out the back door of the club, zip-tied my hands, and forced me into his car.”

Both brothers turned to stare at Gastone, who remained stoically silent, though I could see a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“Then,” I continued, warming to my subject, “he drove me to some dingy little place where a former clerk was waiting with marriage papers.

When I refused to sign, your brother—very cleverly, I must admit—pretended to care about an injury I'd gotten, then grabbed my hand and pressed my fingerprint onto the document while I was distracted.”

“Jesus Christ, Gastone,” Carlo muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“It gets better,” I assured them. “After forcing me to 'marry' him, he brought me here, carried me over his shoulder when I wouldn't cooperate, and locked me in a bedroom. And now he's acting like this is all totally normal and not, you know, multiple felonies.”

Dino looked like he might be sick. “Tell me she's making this up,” he said to Gastone.

Gastone's eyes never left mine, and I saw something dangerous flash in their green depths. “She's exaggerating.”

“Am I?” I challenged. “Which part did I get wrong? The kidnapping? The forced marriage? The imprisonment?”

“You came willingly out of that club,” he said quietly.

“Because you lied to me! You said you wanted to talk about Larissa!”

“And you believed me. That's on you.”

I gasped at the audacity. “On me? You're blaming me for trusting you?”

“In our world? Yes. Trusting the enemy is a rookie mistake.”

“I didn't see you as the enemy!” I nearly shouted. “I saw you as my sister-in-law's brother. My sister-in-law, who was hurting because she missed him!”

That shut him up, at least momentarily. In that silence, I noticed Gastone looking irritatingly well-rested and put-together in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed forearms. Unfair. I probably looked like something the cat dragged in after my sleepless night.

But, I was forced to look away from Gastone when Carlo hissed, “Gastone, tell us it’s not what she thinks.”