Captured By A Sinner: Chapter 6

Even though I only had two hours of sleep, I’m ready at eight o’clock to face whatever the day will bring.

Rosalie hasn’t come out of her bedroom since she practically drooled at the sight of my chest. It was an interesting moment, but it doesn’t mean shit in my books. She’s a girl with nowhere to go, and that’s the end of the story.

Knowing Rosalie won’t be able to escape the grounds, I head over to my parents’ place so I can explain my reasoning behind kidnapping Rosalie. I’m more worried about Aunt Bella than my parents and Uncle Alexei. After all, my dad kidnapped my mom to save her life. That’s how they met.

When I step into the house, I hear my dad say, “I’m sure he has a good reason. Let’s wait to hear what it is.”

Of course, they would already know. I swear a bird can shit in Russia, and they’d know within an hour.

That’s why I’m so good at tracking. I was trained by the best.

Entering the dining room, everyone’s eyes turn to me. I let out a sigh and pull a chair out. I sit down and look at my family. “I took the girl because she’s only seventeen and has nowhere to go. It was either that or one of us killing her, which I wasn’t going to allow.”

Just like I expected, my parents nod, understanding on their faces.

“When is she leaving?” Uncle Alexei asks.

I lock eyes with my godfather. “Once she turns twenty-one.”

His eyebrows lift. “Four years?”

“Three,” I correct him. “She’s turning eighteen next week.”

“That’s a very long time to keep the girl against her will,” Aunt Bella says. “It will do more harm than good.”

I turn my gaze to my aunt. “Rosalie has nothing and no one. Sure I can shove money into her hand and send her on her way, but she won’t survive. The girl is weak. She doesn’t have any survival instincts.”

“She can’t be a captive for three years, Viktor,” Aunt Bella argues.

We stare at each other for a moment before I say, “It’s not your call to make. The girl is staying with me where she will be safe. It’s not open for discussion. I’m merely offering you an explanation out of respect.”

She shakes her head, clearly not happy with my decision.

Letting out a sigh, I tighten my control on my temper. “Rosalie doesn’t have an ounce of strength in her body. She’s beautiful and innocent. She’s the perfect target. Word is already out that I took the girl. Do you really think our enemies are not going to target her?”

“Viktor has a point,” Dad agrees. “The fact that he took her already shows he cares. Anyone of the thousands of enemies we have might think it’s a good idea to try and use the girl against him.”

“I’m sure Viktor knows what he’s doing,” Mom stands up for me. “He won’t hurt her.”

Aunt Bella doesn’t look convinced. “You took part in killing her family. I can’t see her ever feeling safe here. It must be traumatizing for her.”

“It’s not your problem,” I remind her.

Before anyone else can say another word, I stand up. “Rosalie will be safe with me. It’s the only thing that matters. This subject is no longer open for discussion.”

When Aunt Bella lets out a huff, I add, “Need I remind you that you married the man who practically kidnapped you.”

My aunt lost her memory in an accident, and Uncle Alexei pretended they were engaged to keep her with him. In my books, that’s a hell of a lot worse than what I’m doing.

I have Rosalie’s best interests in mind. Not my own.

“Viktor knows what he’s doing,” Uncle Alexei mutters. “He’s the head of the bratva for a reason. I trust he’ll do what’s best for the girl.”

I give my uncle a chin lift, grateful that he’s backing me.

“I’ve given Rosalie the freedom to roam the property, so you could run into her anytime. She’s not to leave the grounds without my permission.”

“So I’m allowed to befriend her?” Mariya speaks up for the first time. She’s only two years younger than me, and we were raised as siblings since birth because our fathers are inseparable.

I smile at the woman that’s like a little sister to me. “I’d like that.”

“Are you leaving her alone today?” Mom asks.

I shake my head. “I’ll work from home for a week.”

“I’ll make lunch. Bring Rosalie over so she can meet us,” Mom says.

I nod before walking out of the room. When I get back to my place, it’s quiet, and Rosalie’s door is still closed. I knock and wait three seconds before I open it.

She’s sitting on the floor with her back to the bed, her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around them. She doesn’t bother looking at me as I enter the room, and when I sit down on the bed, she turns her face away from me.

Leaning forward, I rest my forearms on my thighs and look at her. “Do you really want to do this the hard way?”

“Just leave me alone.” Her voice sounds empty, the words nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

I nod and stand up. “We’re having lunch with my family today.”

“Not interested,” she mutters before letting out a heavy sigh.

“You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Just like everything else since you broke into my house and killed my family.” Her voice disappears, and she tucks her face into the crook of her arm.

“It’s the way of the mafia and bratva.”

Her voice is muffled as she says, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I don’t like justifying my actions, especially not twice in one fucking day, but still, I say, “Your grandfather and uncle invaded our territories. They knew what would happen and still didn’t back down. We gave them warnings, which they ignored. Their deaths are on them, and you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Lucky,” she scoffs. Scrambling to her feet, she glares at me, but it has the same effect as a kitten hissing. “Tell me, was I lucky when you forced me to watch my uncle being slaughtered like a pig? Was I lucky when you ripped me from my home and killed my grandfather?” She steps closer, lifting her chin with more bravery than I thought she possessed. “Was I lucky when you strangled me?”

She sucks in a quivering breath, her composure quickly starting to crumble, but her voice is laced with hatred as she continues, “Was I lucky every time you yanked me around like some ragdoll and when you left bruises on my body?”

I take a step closer. “Yes,” I bite the word out. “You weren’t raped and tortured, Rosalie. That makes you fucking lucky.”

Our eyes burn on each other, the atmosphere loaded with our anger.

“You’re a monster,” she hisses. “Nothing more than a despicable human being.”

“Still, I’m better than your family.”

Don’t. Rosalie might not know, and she can’t deal with another blow so soon after the trauma she’s already suffered.

Her features pull with disgust. “You’re not. My grandfather and uncle would never kidnap a girl and hold her against her will.”

No, they’d just get them addicted to drugs and sell them to the highest bidder when they can’t pay their outstanding debt.

That’s why the Cosa Nostra severed ties with Manno. The Sicilian mafia is only interested in dealing in arms, drugs, and racketeering, whereas the Mannos had a taste for the more depraved side of the criminal world.

But it’s clear Rosalie doesn’t know what her family dealt in, and I’m not about to drop that bomb on her.

“Lunch is at twelve,” I mutter before turning around and leaving the room.

“I’m not going,” she shouts after me.

“Either you fucking walk on your own two legs, or I’ll drag you there, but you will go,” I shout back.

“Asshole!”

I let out an unexpected burst of laughter and shake my head.

At least she isn’t crying. Honestly, I prefer her fighting with me. It shows the girl has some strength in her.

Walking into my office, I sit down at my desk and look at the monitors I installed on the entire left wall. I type in Rosalie’s details and watch as information fills the screens – everything from her birth and school records to her social media accounts.

Graduation is in two weeks. I’ll have to remember it, so Rosalie doesn’t miss out.

I notice she has no friends on social media, which I find weird. All the accounts she follows are travel related, and it’s clear she loves old castles and waterfalls from the images and videos she’s liked.

She doesn’t post anything about herself, though. Only staged pictures of food, fashion, and nature. Rarely does she write anything, so when I find a picture of a Labrador puppy with the caption, ‘One day,’ I take note.

Ugh. Puppies shit everywhere and chew on everything.

But it’s her birthday next week, and a puppy might be just the thing to cheer her up.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m searching for Labrador breeders, but there are no available litters in the US.

“Never thought I’d smuggle a fucking dog into the country,” I mutter as I send an email to one of my contacts in the UK.

When I’m done gathering every bit of information about Rosalie I can find, I focus on work, making sure the incoming shipments are on schedule and all my men are taking care of business.