"Kiss me." He picks me up and kisses me again.
His hands on my waist, my hands in his hair and my lips all over him.
I think I don't have a crush anymore.
I think i'm in love.
We break the kiss and he looks at me, "I'm so fucked aren't I my Val?"
︶꒦...
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There are worse things than being kidnapped and having no clue where you are.
For example, I could be pooping in a public toilet with everyone hearing it, or I could be forced to listen to "Dance Monkey" for a lifetime.
However, being kidnapped is still insanely bad—it just lacks significance since this is not my first rodeo. When I was six, I was kidnapped on my birthday, then again on my parents' anniversary, and during a wedding.
That's what my mother experienced quite a few times after marrying Alfredo Garcia. Alfredo Garcia was a man whose heart consisted solely of money. All he desired was power, which was understandable for a man like him and the type of family we are.
"My husband will show up..." I mutter to myself as I try to reach for the blindfold covering my eyes, but my hands are tied.
I cannot move.
The sun slaps my face as I feel the heat tickle me, teasing as I accept my fate. I know well enough that my husband, Mateo Capo, will not save me.
He doesn't love me, nor do I love him.
Mateo and I were in an arranged marriage, but for me, it was forced. I didn't want anything to do with a man whose reputation was filled with blood and tears, yet I couldn't speak up.
All I had was my father. I was isolated from everyone and forced to endure homeschooling from the age of three—perhaps for my protection, or more importantly, for my father's protection.
Based on the movies I've seen, there's no way I would have survived high school. I'm prime bullying material.
My life was built on dirty money. Everything I had came at a cost. My own marriage was for money. Although I enjoyed the privilege of getting anything my heart desired, all I wanted was love—and to experience freedom.
A strong grip touches my shoulder as I am carried into the new hell I'm about to endure.
A woody smell hypnotizes my nose as I fight the urge to cuddle into the arms carrying me. A low mumble dances in my ear as the same sunlight shines on my face.
"My husband will save me!" I whisper to convince myself. A soft chuckle escapes me as I grip tightly onto the man's shoulders.
Suddenly, a loud thump echoes, and I'm placed on a chair. My legs are slowly traced, and a loud hiss escapes me.
"Get off!" I yell, attempting to kick the person in front of me. This is insanely difficult since my eyes are covered by a void of darkness.
I move my arms, trying to loosen the rope binding my hands, but I fail. This is pitiful.
"I'm not interested in you. I'm trying to tie your legs so you don't fucking run away." His words drip with poison and hatred.
His voice is cold, lacking any sense of joy or happiness. Every man involved in this lifestyle lacks any sunshine—they're a gloomy night filled with thunderstorms, screaming with spite and hatred. I sigh, knowing this is my last day alive.
