The Failed Seduction

I looked up mid lotion application to watch as four men entered the room and gave me a brief look before proceeding with their duty. My eyes quickly gave each of them a once over, and when the last person to enter the room met my eyes, I smiled.

"Bingo."

He looked to be about nineteen years old, which was great for me because that just made my job easier. The moment he saw me looking at him, he gulped and avoided my eyes. Okay so a virgin wasn't what I'd imagined, but that only made it even easier than before.

As the men carried out the television and viewed the connections to make sure that they hadn't been damaged, I continued applying my lotion and biding my time to the moment I could catch that innocent little sparrow alone. Doing so would probably be next to impossible, but I always had my methods.

After my legs, came my arms, and up, up all the way to my chest. He was blatantly staring at me now, and I smiled at him again. "What are you here for?"

"Uh," he gulped heavily. "I'm here to plug in t-the… oh wow," he was openly staring at my cleavage, and it was honestly funny to see.

"The what? Oh, the TV?" I pointed at the flat screen, which was now mounted on the ledge atop the fire place. The boy looked at it and nodded. "Well, you'd better get to it, then."

He looked at me for a long time. And I mean a long time. I had to clear my throat to get him to start moving. He went towards the tv and began hooking up the corresponding cables to their corresponding outlets or whatever they're called. Slowly, one by one, the men were starting to exit my rooms, and I had to fight the gigantic smile that was threatening to take over my face.

The mental image I had of myself was rubbing her hands together and cackling evilly. That poor boy was about to fall right into my trap! It couldn't have been more perfect!

"Careful, Manolo, she looks like she's about to devour your soul."

Oh for the love of—

"What now?" My voice came out undoubtedly sour, and my face probably looked equally as sour. "Do you want me to actually shoot you this time? Because I'm this close," I pinched my fingers together and showed him just how close I was to ending his miserable life.

Marco strolled into my room for the second time today and gave me a vicious side eye. "I'm just making sure you don't try to coerce my nephew here into helping you plan your escape. By the looks of it, I'm just in time"

His what?

"Your nephew?" One of my eyebrows raised instinctively at the news I'd just received. Staying in this house seemed like more of an ambush. Maybe I should take the olive branch my dad was offering me and try to get out of here. "You're related?"

"Duh. Can't you see? He has my eyes."

A second good look at the boy's eyes, I realised that it was indeed true. He looked like a younger, more attractive version of Marco. The blush threatening to take over my face was a worthy enemy to fight off. The embarrassment wanted to eat me alive. How could I be so stupid? Of course, if I tried to manipulate this kid, he'd go right to Marco and tell him all about it! What was wrong with me?

"I'm almost done," the boy, Manolo, announced for the both of us to hear. Marco smiled at me triumphantly, and I almost pounced on him. I wanted to murder him so badly.

"Now I know why my grandfather almost threw your grandfather off a bridge," I muttered, locking the pump on my lotion and putting it back. All this work and for what? I hadn't even managed to get three quarters of the way through my plan!

"If my memory serves, it was my grandfather who almost threw your grandfather off a bridge," Marco countered. I was about to let him have it when Manolo excused himself and left the room. We were alone again, and considering the forked path before me, there was only one thing I could do.

"Marco," a heavy sigh worked its way out of my mouth. "I need to speak to my father."

Marco laughed at me and shook his head, giving me a mocking glare. "You have balls, I'll give you that."

"I'm serious, I need to speak to him," the more time passed, the more out of hand things became. I didn't understand why it was so hard for him to recognise the situation we were all in. I knew my father, and he could become a mad man once he was crossed. It had already been a week, the more time passed without him hearing from me, the more blood filled his sight became.

"About what?" He raised an eyebrow at me, and a guarded look entered his eyes.

I bit my lip and looked away, because something about his look was making me itch to tell him the truth. If he were to find out that I actually wanted to stay, he'd know something else was keeping me here. There was no way I'd want to be in a house full of Italians just because of their merry company.

"He doesn't know you took me, right? If he did, he would've already burnt down every single one of your facilities. It's only a matter of time before he figures it out," I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice. "We have friends, Marco. They will all be sending their hounds to sniff around for my scent, and when they find so much as a trace of me, it's game over. If we stage something like a ransom call, it'll appease him a little because at least he'll know that I'm okay."

Marco stared at me without saying a word, but his eyes narrowed just a tiny bit. I could tell he was thinking over what I'd said. There was a lot of truth to it. The Italians were a clan of bitches, but they weren't stupid. If my father had known that it was them, he would've found me by now. If my instinct was correct, my father probably had his suspicions, considering the way the Italians had shot up my events before, but there was also the Australian Mafia to think about.

The Australian Mafia was a group of rogues. Anyone who left a subsidiary mob would join the Australian mob seeking protection. They had everything from people who were well versed in explosives, to people who joined just for the money and no actual action. My father had bought some people from the Australians and they hadn't delivered, so there was some tension between our two groups. My dad didn't want to anger them though, because even though we were a force in the West, the Australians were cunning and they could bring down anyone, even us if we weren't careful. That's why nobody really messed with them.

"What will you say?"

"I won't mention you, if that's what you're concerned about. He won't have a clue, I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing to me," He pulled out his phone and gave it to me. "It's encrypted. I'm warning you though," his gun came out next and it was pointed right at my cranium. "One wrong word and your pretty face will decorate the walls of this room for eternity."

"And they say Spaniards are dramatic," I rolled my eyes and proceeded to dial my father's phone number. After a few rings, phone line appeared to be busy, so I tried my mother's number instead. She picked up after the third ring.

"Hello?" She sounded like she caught the flu and her voice was hoarse. What in the world was happening over there? "Who is this?"

"Annaliz, it's me," I started, looking at Marco for a confirmation that I could go ahead and let her know what was happening.

"Katarina? Where are you? Your father and I—Salvador! Salvador, it's Kat!"

Hearing her call my dad, let me know that I needed to hurry up and tell her what needed to be said. Marco's gun was also inching closer to my nose and I really wasn't in the mood for a bunny kiss from lead. "Listen, I can't talk long, but tell—" my sentence was cut short by my dad grabbing the phone and bellowing into it.

"Katarina! Katarina where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you! Are you in Madrid? I'll send over Temo to bring you back��"

"Dad! Listen to me!" When silence met me, I proceeded. "I'm not in Madrid. I don't know where I am, honestly, but I saw the news, and I need you to stop looking for me."

"Katarina, que ostias estas diciendo? (What the hell are you saying?) I need you to give me your location now."

"Dad, take my missing persons report off the news. My life is in danger enough as it is, and you're making it worse. I'm safe for now, but I need you to cease my search immediately."

"Why are you saying this? Did you escape?" My father sounded more and more frantic by he second. I'd never witnessed this man in any way, shape, or form, lose his composure. But that's what happens when your favourite child gets kidnapped.

"I managed to escape and I'm in hiding now. But dad, the light is not going to last long and I need warmth," there it was. Our code. When I was younger, my dad made up a code for me to use whenever I was either kidnapped or had people after me who were trying to do who-knows-what to me. This must've made Marco suspicious because the barrel of his gun pressed against my nose and he gave me a warning look. "This won't be the first or the last time," second code sentence. This translated to me not being in immediate danger, but that I needed him to figure out my location quickly and discretely because that could change at any moment. "I'll contact you when I need you to come and get me," this quite literally meant that even if he figured out where I was, he shouldn't make a move until I told him to.

"Kill all of them."

The call dropped and I handed the phone back to Marco. "That should keep him busy for a while," his cell phone was probably rerouted so that it looked like the call was coming from another area. He and I both knew that my dad would have the call traced, so I was counting on an encryption for his line. I knew my dad wouldn't stay put once he found out where I was really located, which even I didn't know, so there was no time to waste. I needed to figure out what was happening here and I needed to figure it out immediately.

"What was that about the light?" Marco wondered whilst putting away his device and his weapon. "Did you give him a code?"

I pointed towards the window where we could both see that there was probably only half an hour of daylight left. "No, it's literally dusk, you fucking idiot."