The Surrogate Mafia Princess

Chapter Two: Dead or Alive I

Iliana

Two weeks ago

Words are very easy to think up, twist, contort, and just as easy to forget. An “I love you” is just seconds away from being turned into an “I regret the day I set eyes on you” or a world favorite “I just wanted you for your body”. “I love you”, “You know I can do anything for you”. All bloody lies!!

I’ve come to believe no one ever truly means what they say, especially when it comes to things of the heart. But I was a fool once before. ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me’ or isn’t that the saying? My grace period ended at once though. I‘m still currently in the hole that was dug for me by being fooled once and it didn’t look like there was a way out.

You see, I was in love once. I was foolish, coddled, and thought the first boy that I laid my eyes on wanted me for me and not my father’s money or to get into my father’s good graces. My first love, Adran, thought ‘paint an illusion of love for the homeschooled daughter of the First Officer of the Bratva’s eyes’ and boom, straight access to his diamonds. Well, he succeeded and now there was a missing fifteen million dollars diamond piece and my father was threatening to have me killed if I didn’t get him his diamond back. Plainly speaking, I was in deep s**t.

“Where is he?”, my father’s grueling voice woke my dimwit of a central nervous organ up and I stared at him blankly. I didn’t exactly know what to answer to that question.

“I won’t repeat myself, Iliana. Where is the tupista you brought into my home”, my father thundered, slamming his hand down on his black mahogany desk in a way that made me flinch.

I had no idea how my father knew I hung out with Adran but every hair on my body was on a parade. I wasn’t stupid. I knew my father killed. I knew the red barely noticeable stripes on the floor of his office weren’t part of the décor. I knew they were the leftovers of the maid’s hard work after my father’s daily visits from the masked man with other people who’s heads were covered in sacks that entered his office in the evenings. I knew my father wasn’t a very kind man and had the tiniest, almost non-existent shard of glass in his heart that he labeled patience. I knew I was done for but can you guess what I didn’t know? Adran’s whereabouts.

“I don’t know where he is”, I croaked out, twisting my hands in my lap as I sat on the edge of one of his office seats. I needed to be ready to run.

“I’ll take that as a joke”. “I know you’ve always been a little rebel, sneaking away and doing things to get on my nerves but you took this stunt too far”, my father announced in a thunderous voice.

“You have two weeks to get me my diamonds or you’re as good as dead to me and I mean dead with a bullet right between your eyes. No one steals from me and gets away with it, not even my daughter. Get out!!l”

I shot out of the chair and got out of his office like my ass was on fire, with my heart pounding in my ears. I was screwed, I thought as I ran up the stairs to my room. I was screwed tighter than a jar lid twisted shut by a bodybuilder. I got to my room and banged the door shut, sliding down to the ground in defeat. In two weeks, I was going to be dead. I packed my dark curly hair in my hands and tried to think. There was no way I could reach the fucker who had gotten me into this mess, the numbers he had given me weren’t going through. He wasn’t replying any of my messages and I didn’t know anyone that knew him. f**k, I was home schooled for f***s sake. I have literally no friends and I’ve barely lived my whole 21 years of life, being protected and barred from leaving the house two four seven in case someone tried to use me for ransom against my dad. Now, I needed protection from said dad and I had no one on my side. I was so f*****g screwed.

I met Adran during one of my father’s annual functions. One of the occasional parties he threw at our house after he finished redecorating the ballroom and wanted to show off or rub elbows with the rich and wealthy of Chicago and by rich and wealthy, I meant the ones whose proof of funds were measured in gold. On the evening of the party, I had been ordered to stay in my room like always when my father had important guests over but when the first Rolls Royce entourage pulled up, it was like the green light of disobedience clicked on in my head and I had to snoop. That was how I met Adran. He was sneaking around just like me and I felt a kindred spirit in disobedience and a grand delusion of butterflies.

Adran told me that his family had been invited to the party and even pointed out a couple while we watched from a little slit in the attic walls that previewed the ballroom. I had showed him the hideout, and we formed a pact then and there. But, before you blame me, I was 17 and he was the first boy I had said a complete sentence to. I should have known better, but I had stared at his sand brown hair, his pretty green eyes, and pout lips and believed everything he said and even those he didn’t say.

I was in love or so I thought. So, whenever my father pulled his annual functions after our first meeting, we met at our hiding spot and talked the night away. Until he got bold and I got stupid. I should have known something was up when he asked to see my father’s treasures, but he had just kissed me, and his fingers were slick with my c*m. If he asked for my life, I probably would have handed him a knife. He promised me that now I was 21, he would come and properly ask my father to court me properly. Bullshit. I never saw Adran after I showed him the room.

I deserved to die.

Fuck it. I didn’t deserve to die at all. No one deserves to die over mistakes they made when their frontal lobe was still in the works. I should have been plotting my escape but of course, I sat on my hands and found out what happens when my father keeps his promises. The hard way.

I heaved as my face was plunged into the ice cold water again and held there by the very strong hand of my father’s second. I sputtered and struggled as my face was brought out again, every muscle and nerve going numb.

“Where’s the money?”, my father’s second asked in a gruff voice. Money? What money?

“Where’s the f*****g money, Iliana?”, He thundered the second time.

I coughed, trying to find my voice as panic raced through my mind and goosebumps slithered up my spine. I had no idea what money he was talking about. I thought Adran had only stolen a diamond piece. I didn’t know anything about the money. What the f**k had I gotten myself into?

“I don’t know where the money is”, I said matter-of-factly, breathing in a huge amount of air before I was plunged back into the cold water. It was the middle of f*****g January in Chicago, the cold could freeze even the smallest molecule, and it had just finished snowing. My toes curled from the cold, my feet were touching the wooden floor, my hands felt like they were enclosed in ice, and I could feel my body growing numb.

I had been hijacked out of bed this morning at barely daylight and carried into the shed at the back of our mansion to have my memory jogged, according to my torturer.

“I really don’t know where the money is”, I cried as I was brought up for air. My body shivering and the icy air slapping my face with vengeful fury. “Please”, I begged.

“This was just a taste of what’s to come. Find the money before your father does something worse”, my father’s second in command let out, his soulless eyes staring me down before he dropped me to the floor.

My teeth shattered and I hugged myself as his bulky physique left through the door, the wood creaking in his wake.

I knew what true fear was the next day, when I learned my father wasn’t joking about killing me.

“Search the entire house for her. If you get back here without that scoundrel in your hands dead or alive, don’t bother coming back”, my father thundered from his office. I hid in the attic again, my heart beating like war drums as I heard his voice all the way from the little compartment at the top of the mansion. Now would be the worst of times to run away and I wasn’t so foolish to attempt it.

I ended up staying in the attic for three days until I was weak and almost dying from hunger. Luckily, the intensity my father’s guards were using to look for me on day 1 had dwindled to almost non-existent by day 3, possibly because they had found the clothes I had stashed by the estate’s lake and thought I had probably drowned.

One perk of being disobedient was I got to know the secret rooms of the house and how I could get out without being caught. I snuck out of the attic and muzzled my way into the kitchen, luckily all the staff had retired for the night. I took a bite from an apple and filled my backpack with chocolates and water. I had no idea how long I was going to be on the run. Only heavens knew how much my savings would last before its exhausted.

I cleaned off the apple and snuck out through the kitchen back door, finding my way in the dark to the supplies dock. Supplies loading day was in a few hours, the day were the housekeeper goes to the market to load up on supplies in big crates. My great escape plan was to get into one of the wooden crates – thank heavens for my frame- and then escape in the market. Yeah, not so smart but it was the only way out of here for me. My father prided himself in having one of the most secured properties in Chicago.

I wasn’t going to test his bluff when there was a bounty on my head. I felt my way into the truck which was already parked and slipped into an open crate big enough to accommodate my legs without me feeling cramped up. I put the cover in place and shut myself from the world. In a few hours, I would burst free and escape in whatever market I found myself at.

Few hours turned to a full day, and my blood began flowing backwards based on the position I had angled myself to get into the crate. What the hell was going on? I had exhausted the chocolate bars I had stashed, my bladder was about to combust, and I was about three seconds away from hyperventilating when the truck was fired up and pulled into drive, the next thing I heard were rapid gunshots and shouting.

The truck swerved from side to side as it throttled down the estate road and I strained my ears to understand what was going on outside. My crate shook as it was toggled from the recklessness of whoever was in the front seat. I heard the endings of a salty laugh and a “these motherfuckers”.

The shouting and the gunshots grew louder, and I knew we were approaching the gate, and the gunshots meant only one thing, the person driving this truck wasn’t the person meant to be driving it. I was being kidnapped.