Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter 24Liana

“Is that her?” I heard a man mutter. “If it’s not, Perez will have our balls. Santiago doesn’t give a shit as long as it has a pussy.”

“It’s her.” A chuckle filled the darkness, making my heart gallop. “If it isn’t, I’m fucking keeping her.”

My eyes fluttered open, my tongue heavy in my mouth. I attempted to move, but found myself unable to. A cold sweat broke out across my skin as I was dragged toward a car, each movement causing my flesh to burn.

The fuckers sedated me.

In the next second, I was thrown onto a hard leather seat. The car pulled out and sped down the road, jostling me around on the back seat. A sharp turn had me rolling onto the floor, and a shooting pain exploded in my skull. Clearly they didn’t care whether I made it to where we were going in one piece.

“Sofia Volkov will bring out the big guns when she learns another of her daughters has been taken.”

I attempted to thrash, move, but it was futile. I had to settle down; I refused to let terror overwhelm me. If I did, I’d spiral.

Taking a deep breath in, I exhaled, focusing on slowing my heartbeat. Was this my end? No, it couldn’t be. I still had so much to resolve. There were still things I didn’t understand. My thoughts flitted to the man who’d been infiltrating my dreams. The faceless man. The similarities I found between Kingston Ashford and a ghost that kept hiding from me.

I had to survive this and get to the bottom of who and what Kingston Ashford was and why he bore similarities to the faceless man.

The car came to a sudden stop, halting all my thoughts and jolting me back into my body. The back door opened, and a set of strong hands scooped me off the floor. I peeked through my eyelashes and my breath caught. The hand wrapped around my waist had a skull tattoo on it. The very same one as the head of the Tijuana cartel.

The driver muttered a curse, then gritted, “Your uncle said to bring her to him. He and Cortes have an understanding.”

“That’s null and void.” The grave, vaguely familiar voice belonged to a beast of a man who threw me over his shoulder and started walking. It wasn’t long before he ascended the stairs. Nausea rippled through my insides—I’d never been able to tolerate drugs well.

Suddenly, the man holding me like a sack of potatoes stopped, took a left, and entered a room, throwing me onto the bed. My body bounced off the soft mattress, and I hated that I was so weak. I needed to find a way to shake the fog off.

My flesh crawled at the thought of him—anyone—touching me. I tried to roll off the bed, but this damn weakness refused to give way. I swore to God, if he touched me, I’d slit his throat.

“Relax, I have no intention of touching you.”

My nostrils flared and I cleared my throat painfully. “What?” I croaked. “Too good to touch me?”

Okay, that was dumb. I blamed the drugs. I forced myself to shift on the bed as the drowsiness began to wane.

“If you want me to touch you, just say the word,” he drawled with a smooth smile. The tightness in my chest loosened, and I released a long breath. “But we’ll wait for the drugs to leave your system.”

I wasn’t fooled by his handsome face. His hair was perfectly styled, and his jaw was freshly shaved. The olive skin accentuated his green eyes. He was dressed sharply, and I wondered if he normally kidnapped women in a custom suit or if this was a special occasion.

“Who are you?” I asked, unable to keep the animosity from my voice. Years of hostility toward any man in the mafia had become part of my DNA. Besides, the Tijuana cartel was responsible for my twin’s murder. That alone was enough to have hate simmering through my veins.

“Giovanni Agosti.” He made an exaggerated bow while flashing me a smile.

I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, you’re single.”

He flashed another smile, even as his green eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

Running out of patience and pissed off that I’d let myself get taken, I ran through what I knew of the men in the mafia. I didn’t recall hearing of Giovanni Agosti, but couldn’t shake off the feeling that I should have.

“Mateo Agosti,” I blurted. “Any relation?”

“My uncle.”

My brows furrowed and I gritted my teeth. “He runs the Italian mafia in Boston,” I remarked. “How is he connected to the Tijuana cartel?”

“He isn’t.” He watched me like a hawk. “I am. Santiago Tijuana’s my uncle.” I nodded but didn’t say anything else, not knowing what to say or ask without exposing how little I knew about the Agosti family and their criminal empire. He chuckled softly. “You aren’t going to ask me for details? After all, it’s a well-kept secret.”

I tilted my chin, watching him pensively. There were so many damn secrets in the underworld; I’d stopped asking questions a long time ago. At the end of the day, it came down to right and wrong, and our choices. Our lineage wasn’t something we had control over.

Finally, I shook my head. “No. I have enough of my own crosses to bear. What do Perez Cortes and your uncle want with me?” I asked instead, studiously observing him.

“You caused my uncle quite the headache. Do you even know how much he would have made from those women?”

“Innocent women.” I gritted my teeth, not seeing the use in denying my involvement. They had me—the jig was up. “Some underage.”

Giovanni sighed, pushing his hand through his hair. “If you would have waited, I’d have taken care of it.”

My heart stilled as I stared at him, my eyebrows shooting to my hairline. “Elaborate,” I demanded.

He waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s a moot point now. My uncle was going to punish you.” He didn’t need to elaborate for me to understand what he meant. Like I said, men were pigs. “Then he was going to hand you over to Perez Cortes for his upcoming auction.”

“Auction?” I repeated flatly, not trusting him enough to reveal what I knew. This auction topic had been thrown around a lot lately, and I was sick and tired of hearing about it. Then there was the whole thing of me being tossed on the chopping block.

“He’s been collecting notable daughters of prominent figures, mafia princesses from families that have fucked him over.” The unspoken word hung in the air. He knew I fucked Cortes over, rescuing innocent girls from his trafficking ring.

My hands curled into fists. I wished I could get my hands on Perez Cortes and wring his neck. Destroy his whole operation from within.

And this was my chance. Possibly my only chance.

I squared my shoulders and looked up to find Giovanni Agosti watching me, his eyes hard, dangerous. But still, something told me he wasn’t anything like his uncle.

“Are you involved in human trafficking?”

“I’m not. There are plenty of women who want to work in that industry, why would I go through the trouble?”

I pulled my arms across my chest and jutted out my chin. He wasn’t wrong, and I had to hand it to him for acknowledging a woman’s right to choose how to live her life. “Now, Giovanni Agosti,” I started with a smug expression. There was no way in hell I’d be going back to Russia to deal with my mother now, and I was done being a puppet. “How would you like me to kill your uncle and, in turn, you deliver me to Perez Cortes?”

“That’s an interesting proposition,” he remarked, his eyes flaring. If he was surprised, he wasn’t letting it show. “Tell me more.”

And that was how the most unlikely of alliances was made.