Page 17 of Taken By the Enforcer

The engines drone a steady lullaby, and exhaustion drags me under. Sleep claims me despite the fear twisting in my chest.

Mid-flight, he wakes me and leads me into the bedroom suite, a cocoon of cream leather and silk bedding. I sink onto the mattress, too drained to argue, too tired to resist. My eyes flutter.

The last thing I feel is his hand smoothing over my belly again, protective and terrifying all at once.

“You’re safe,bella mia.You and our baby are safe.”

Darkness takes me.

I startle awake at the shift of the mattress beside me.

Donatello is up, broad shoulders outlined against the cabin’s muted glow. He stands at the window, head bowed slightly, one hand braced against the frame, the other raking through his hair. For a moment I wonder if he’s wrestling with himself the way I am—with choices, with chains neither of us asked for.

Then he turns, and the storm in his eyes tells me whatever battle rages in him, it won’t change one thing.

Donatello kept his promise. I’m his. And there’s no escape.

CHAPTER 6

Paolina

“We’ve landed.”

I straighten, hand instinctively bracing my stomach. “Where are we?”

“You’ll see.”

Two words. Nothing more.

The cabin door opens, cool sea air rushing in. It carries salt and jasmine, a softness at odds with the iron grip that closes around my arm as he guides me down the steps. The tarmac gives way to a sleek helipad where a black helicopter waits, blades thumping impatiently.

Fear claws my chest. “Another flight? Donatello, I?—”

“Shhh.” His hand presses to the small of my back, steady butinescapable. “It’s short.”

The helicopter swallows us. Darkness cloaks the world outside as we rise. I cling to the seat belt, nerves frayed. Donatello watches me without blinking, every inch the predator guarding his prize. The baby shifts, unsettled, and I murmur soft nonsense under my breath, trying to calm both of us.

Ten minutes later, a jeweled horizon appears: an island rising from black water, its edges traced in golden light. Villas with wall sconces gleam like pearls nestled amongst up-lit flowering trees and manicured lawns. Additional landscape lighting marks the paths between the villas and recreation areas. A grass tennis court, a pool glimmering turquoise even at night with its cabana flanked by chaise lounges, and a boat dock lined with sleek yachts and jet skis round out the resort feel. In the center, a courtyard spilling with fuchsia and purple bougainvillea and teak seating areas offer sanctuary. A stunning paradise, despite the patrols of armed men.

My breath catches. “Where are we?”

“My island.” His tone holds no arrogance, only fact. “Your home now.”

The helicopter settles on the villa’s helipad. Staff waits—two men in dark suits, a woman in white, another man with a doctor’s bag. They move with quiet efficiency, bowing their heads as Donatello leads me towards them.

The primary villa towers, all pale stone and sweeping arches, lanterns casting honeyed light over carvedbalconies. My sneakers whisper against polished marble as he steers me inside past a pair of sentries.

It’s too much. Too beautiful. Too… trapped.

The atrium opens around us, ceilings soaring, chandeliers glittering like captured starlight. The scent of ylang-ylang and salt water lingers in the air. For a heartbeat I almost forget myself, caught in the spell of opulence. Then his hand tightens, reminding me I’m not a guest.

I’m a possession. His possession.

“You can’t keep me here.” The words escape sharper than I intend.

“I can,” he replies smoothly, eyes narrowing. “And I will.”

I whirl to face him, chin lifted despite the tremble in my knees. “Donatello—this is kidnapping.”