Kidnapped by The Mafia Prince

Chapter 6: Stranded

Ivy~

I hated that my body responded to the low timbre of his voice, that stupid spark of heat winding its way up my neck to my cheeks.

I snapped out of it, squaring my shoulders and glaring at him.

“Guess you don’t know me as well as you think,” I shot back, lifting my chin.

Caleb’s smirk deepened, a slow, wicked curve of his lips.

His smirk deepened, a slow, wicked curve of his lips.

“We’ll see. That’s what I thought yesterday... before you ran.”

“I didn’t run. I just wasn’t hungry for what was being served,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

He chuckled, low and smooth, leaning closer.

“Oh, you were hungry, Velenosa. Starved, even. You just got a little... overwhelmed by the flavor. Happens to first-timers.”

Dante’s cough turned into a strangled wheeze.

Caleb pulled out the chair between me and Dante and dropped into it like he owned the entire table. Because, apparently, he did.

“Make room,” he said, flashing Dante a look that wasn’t entirely friendly. Dante shifted, clearly unsettled, but didn’t argue. Caleb’s presence filled the space effortlessly, leaving no room for anything else.

Dante, now visibly stressed, shifted.

Caleb raised his hand, signaling to a waiter. Seconds later, a bottle of deep red wine appeared. Caleb’s hand moved with practiced ease as he tossed aside the white wine Dante ordered, dismissing it as if it had never existed. Caleb poured himself a glass, swirled it lazily, and took a slow sip.

I blinked at him, utterly incredulous. My face burned, but I refused to let him see me falter.

“If that was your best, De Luca, maybe I made the right choice skipping the second course.”

His eyes glinted with amusement, his voice dropping lower.

“Funny, considering how eagerly you cleaned your plate the first time.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but Caleb picked up the plate of pasta and set it directly in front of me, his fingers brushing the edge of the table with a maddening slowness.

“Go on,” he said, his voice low and coaxing. “Try it. Give it a fair chance. I’m curious to see if you still think it’s not worth staying for.”

“You don’t get to order me around.”

“Who’s ordering?” Caleb leaned back, his smirk widening. “I’m just suggesting you broaden your horizons.”

“Prick” I glared at him, my patience shredding

“Eat.” Caleb gestured to the pasta, ignoring the insult completely.

I huffed, snatching the fork. If he thought I’d let him win, he was sorely mistaken. I stabbed at the pasta, twirling it far more aggressively than necessary, and took a bite fully prepared to wince and declare it terrible. But the moment the flavors hit my tongue; I hated myself a little more. It was perfect. The sauce was bold, balanced, with just enough spice to leave a lingering warmth. Damn him.

I swallowed, forcing myself to school my expression.

“Your pasta is a little limp for my taste.,” I said flatly, shoving the plate an inch away for emphasis.

“Oh. That hit.” Caleb’s jaw twitched.

Caleb’s laugh was low and rich, the kind of sound that made my stomach flip.

“But you are Liar.”

“Ugly truth,” I snapped

Caleb leaned in again, his stormy eyes pinning me in place.

“You lied last night. You’re lying now. But we both know the truth—you wanted it then, and you still want it now.”

“You’re disgusting,” I hissed.

Caleb took another slow sip of his wine, completely unfazed.

“And yet…” His voice dipped lower, silk-wrapped steel. His gaze flicked to my throat, then to the scarf draped over my shoulders. He reached out lazily, fingers grazing the edge of the fabric, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver through me.

“If you didn’t like it,” he murmured, his smirk deepening, “you wouldn’t have me wrapped all around you.”

His hand ghosted down, fingertips barely brushing the garnet necklace at my throat, his touch lingering just long enough to make my pulse betray me.

I snapped.

My fingers curled around the second red wine glass.

I lifted the glass—slowly, deliberately—and then tipped it, just enough for the deep red liquid to splash onto his lap.

The smirk vanished.

Caleb went completely still, his stormy gray eyes locking onto mine with a dangerous glint.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe.

Instead, I reached up, my hands yanking the necklace from my throat, the scarf from my shoulders.

I threw them onto the table between us.

“Take them back,” I said coldly. “I don’t want your gifts, your games, or you.”

His gaze flicked to the necklace before meeting mine again, something dark and unreadable in his expression.

Silence.

Then—laughter.

A loud, unrestrained bark of laughter.

I spun around.

A Japanese man leaned casually against the bar, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. He appeared to be in his mid-to-late twenties, his long ebony hair pulled back into a neat bun. His relaxed posture screamed that he was entirely too entertained by this disaster.

He definitely knew Caleb—judging by the sharp look Caleb shot him—but the man was grinning like this was the best show he’d ever seen.

Caleb turned back to me, his voice softer, just for me to hear. “This isn’t over.”

“It is.” I stood, chin high. “I am done. And I am out.”

Caleb smirked.

“Careful what you say, Ivy. You might find this place harder to leave than you think.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

Instead, I grabbed the plate of pasta and marched straight to the bar. I set the plate down in front of Caleb’s friend with a bright, sarcastic smile.

“Why don’t you try it? I hear it’s legendary.”

The man whistled.

“Oh, I like her.”

I turned and strode toward the door. Dante scrambled after me.

Prick, Prick, Prick.

I stormed out of Il Rifugio, shoved open the door to the villa, ignoring the knot forming in my stomach.

Dante followed, his footsteps quick behind me, his usual carefree attitude nowhere to be found.

“You mean to tell me this all happened because you were messing with De Luca and not because of Nate?”

His voice cut through the night air, sharp and filled with something dangerously close to realization.

I kept walking. I refused to react.

“Oh, come on,” he continued, throwing his hands up as he caught up to me. “Don’t make me say it, Ivy.”

Dante was rubbing a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath in a mix of English and Italian. Probably a prayer. Or a curse. Maybe both.

And I could feel his stare. That knowing look, the one he’d been perfecting since we were teenagers.

Dante and I had known each other for years, orbiting around the same world but never fully colliding. He worked for the firm, had been Nathaniel’s man in Italy for as long as I could remember. And while we weren’t exactly close, there had always been a certain… familiarity between us.

Nathaniel trusted him, which meant I never did.

I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Instead, I just muttered.

“We are leaving. Now”

I made it back from the room packed in record time.

Lucia stood at the reception desk, her keen green eyes flicking between me and Dante with barely concealed curiosity.

“Leaving already?” she asked, her voice warm but laced with something knowing.

I forced a smile.

“Change of plans.”

Lucia tapped her nails against the desk.

“Shame. Il Rifugio usually fixes bad moods, not makes them worse.”

Dante snorted.

“Oh, it fixed some things, all right.”

I shot him a glare.

Lucia, ever the tactful one, only hummed.

“Well, if you need anything, Ivy, you know where to find me.”

I barely mumbled a thank you before dragging Dante out the door.

Dante sighed beside me, rubbing a hand down his face as I all but dragged him out the door.

"I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself," Dante muttered, his gaze flicking toward the docks. "I’m just saying… men like him don’t let go once they’ve got their hands on something they want."

I gritted my teeth.

Because he was probably right.

Dante had spent years managing business in Italy for the firm, dealing with the De Lucas more times than he probably wanted to. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Nathaniel hated them with passion.

It wasn’t just business rivalry. It was personal.

Nathaniel never liked dealing with people he couldn’t manipulate, and the De Lucas had never played by his rules. My father had kept things balanced, maintaining an uneasy peace. But after he died, everything shifted. The De Lucas became a problem Nathaniel couldn’t solve, and instead of handling them with strategy, he handled them with resentment.

And now, here I was. Caught in the very orbit I should’ve avoided.

“Mistakes happen, Dante.”

Dante let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“Mistakes? Oh, yeah. Totally. Like when you ‘accidentally’ eat an entire cake alone. Or when you ‘mistakenly’ sleep through an alarm.” He shot me a look.

I spun toward him, eyes narrowed. “We are not having this conversation.”

I groaned, stomping faster toward the ferry docks.

Finally, finally, I was getting out of here.

The man at the counter barely looked up as we approached, flipping lazily through some paperwork.

I dropped my bag at my feet.

“Two tickets to Palermo.”

He yawned. “No ferries.”

“Excuse me?”

“No ferries until the storm passes.”

I blinked. Slowly turned my head to the sky.

Clear. Not a cloud in sight. The stars stretched across the horizon, the sea calm as glass.

I turned back to him, incredulous.

“What storm?”

The man only shrugged, flipping another page.

“Orders.”

Dante exhaled hard through his nose.

“Okay, so, funny question—who’s giving the orders?”

The man didn’t even glance up.

“Boss.”

Dante nodded slowly.

I snorted.

“Right. Okay. And tell me, would this Boss happen to have gray eyes, a god complex, and an ego bigger than the island itself?”

The man didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Dante let out a sharp, humorless laugh and turned to me.

“Some mistakes involve tequila and bad lighting. Others get you stranded on an island”

I clenched my teeth so hard I was surprised they didn’t crack.

Because this wasn’t just a coincidence.

This had Caleb written all over it.