The Mafia King's Thief

Need To Know.

Elayne's POV

If I'm offered a gun now, the first person I'm killing will be that son of a b***h Italian mob boss.

After I found my way, and opened the door to my room two days ago, he ordered for them to return me. Now someone's at my door with a couple of bags that I suspect contain new clothes and s**t. The bad b***h in me wants to send him away, and shut the door, but I smell—it's something I know. I did not plan for it to happen this way.

I let him walk into my room, and drop the bags, and when he's almost out, I stand on my toes, and smack the back of his head before shutting the door. I'm a little hurt that I don't get to see the expression on his face, but sometimes tells me that it's the right decision.

I empty all of the bags on my bed, and boy. There are so many clothes. They range from casual wear to elegant dinner dresses. The shoes are a mix of comfortable sandals—which are

by far my favorite , heels and female boots—I can make do with them.

It feels as though he wants to appease me with all of these things. I refuse to be convinced even though I'll accept them.

I'm not in the mood to arrange. I step into the bathroom to have a bath. I'm out in no time. I search the pile of clothes he got me for a while. I find something very comfortable. Something I would wear on a day I'm all by myself. It's very simple. A boxer, and a t-shirt with no bra. Yeah, I'm freeing the nips today.

I twist the door knob, and luckily, he did not lock it.

I'm headed for the kitchen.

This is not the first time I've come here. The first time I visited here was when I saw Alessio in his underwear. I was not given a chance to take a good look at the kitchen—I did take a good look at Alessio, and I will not say a word. You can't say good things about the person who kidnapped you's body.

The kitchen is quite huge, though. I love the interior design.

I admire everything in there for a while before I walk to the pantry, looking around for anything I can find. My eyes land on a pack of white tea. Perfect. My kettle of water is on fire before I know it.

I sit on the barstool by the counter while I slowly sip my tea, and try to use my brain. Not to lie, it's as though everything is dried up. I can't even process a thought, talk more of coming up with a solution.

I'm like that for a while until I give up. Something must surely happen.

The rest of my tea's gone cold. In disgust, I walk to the sink, and empty the mug,and in the process, the mug shatters right in the sink–and I'm over this is the moment I get over this s**t.

I begin to just randomly go through the cabinets, and when I'm on the last one, I feel something. My calves hurt from standing on my toes. Once I see what it is, I smile. I should've searched here before making myself some tea.

An idea pops up in my head, and I know it's time to get the party started.

I grab some items from the pantry, and get to work. I'd make the brownies in two batches, and pray the Lord helps me not to throw the set I'm not supposed to eat in my mouth.

After a few hours of baking, my treats are ready. I get two storage containers, and put the ones not meant for me in one while I put the ones I'll snack on in the second container.

I put a tiny amount of weed in the one I'll be eating while I put a huge amount in the one I plan to use for my adventure.

I make toast and eggs, and devour it in the kitchen. That's when I hear the sound of boots against the ground. Those sentinels can't walk silently for s**t, but I’m thankful for cognizance.

The one who caught me in Alessio’s room trying to steal the first night walks into the kitchen, his eyes looking around before they finally land on me. He acknowledges me with a curt nod of his head as if I begged to be greeted. Man, I was in here, minding my business before your rude ass walked in here, and greeted me in that gangster kinda way.

I nod back like I’m one of them, and then I do the unthinkable. I involve him in conversation. My man is clearly not interested.

“So tell me,” I begin, both palms placed on the counter as I settle down on a bar stool while he’s standing on the other end of the worktop. “Did you have a nice night?”

He looks at me like I’m high before shifting his attention from me to the brownies on the counter. They look tempting, I know, but the question here is, will he yield, and take a bite.

See, I didn’t exactly have a plan and think this through before I did it. I thought, surely, something must happen. It’s not as though I was expecting him to suddenly walk through that door.

“You can have some if you’re hungry. I mean, I can’t finish it.” I try to sound generous when I know that I’m not.

He looks at me with suspicion in his eyes, and my guy doesn’t budge. I hope I don’t lose my s**t right now because one thing I sure as hell hate is wasting time. I silently pray to God that I did not spend however long it was I spent making those edibles for them to not be eaten. I will not throw my effort away. If I have to tie him to a chair, and force it down his throat, I will. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little. He’s got literally everything on me–height, weight. The reverse will be the case if anyone gets tied.

He walks out of the kitchen, saying nothing. I walk backwards until my back hits the wall, and then I slowly slide down until I’m stooping, and God, I want to cry. I close my eyes, and look around for something. It hits me that there are other men in this villa. That asshole isn’t the only sentinel. There are at least five more apart from him. They will eat my brownies if he doesn’t.

I wash everything, and clean up the kitchen before heading to the balcony. I peer down, and see that there are four goons with guns. One of them brings his phone out of his pocket. Perfect.

You see, the villa is huge, and beautiful, but I don’t get to sit down, and admire around when my brain should be overworked until the point of exhaustion and I burnout completely. I should be thinking of an escape plan. I wish, but I gotta try. You can’t get kidnapped, and not do anything about it. Even if you die at the end of it all, let it be on record that you tried to save yourself.

I’m down the stairs in no time. They hear my footsteps, and turn to look at me. The expression pasted on their faces is unreadable, but I can tell they are astonished as hell to see me down here since I’ve been upstairs since my kidnap. I really do like to make things up in my head, don’t I. I throw the word kidnap around in my head so recklessly when I walked in here with my two legs, on a mission.

I don’t even think before I begin to talk.

“Hey, I made some brownies while in the kitchen, and I thought you guys would love it.”

So you see, I did a little something before I came down here. The f****d up assumption that the first sentinel made up in his head was that I poisoned the brownies, hence his reason for not accepting it. What I did was to put some of the ones I made for myself in the storage container I’m currently holding, and pray to God they don’t eat from the ones meant for me. I will not make the mistake of eating from theirs since I have in fact studied it so efficiently.

I do not plan on killing anybody. I plan on making them stoned.

They both exchange looks, and shrug before we all sit on the floor like beggars, and dig in. I am very careful to not mistakenly bite into theirs. It’ll hit me, but not close to half of what it’ll do to them. If I saw laxatives earlier on, I may have considered putting it in there. From their facial expressions, I can tell it is good. Honey, I don’t need you to tell me that, I know for a fact!

In five minutes, it starts to hit, and I take what I came here for. A phone.

I go upstairs, leaving the storage container of edibles for them to do whatever the f**k they please. They are obviously stoned, and have no use for it.

I shut the door of my room, and dial Mikayla’s number. I’ve been dying to do this in days. She’s not dumb, and is very much aware that I got caught. For a moment, I wonder if she ever thought to come and get me or just shrugged in that I told you so, b***h kinda way.

“Hello,” her deep voice cuts through the line. She’s f*****g bubbleheaded for speaking first. How many times do you tell someone with functioning ears to never speak first when an unknown number calls. For a hacker, she’s quite dumb when it comes to matters like that. Yes, I know I commended her skills initially, but I wouldn’t continue to say she’s good when my ass is stuck in Italy, and I don't even know what will happen next.

“This is Elayne.” I let her know.

“Jesus Christ. You’re alive. Girl, I’m about to go to church and thank God. I thought they killed you.” I have in fact gotten an answer to the question that popped up in my head earlier. She totally forgot about me.

“I did a lot of s**t I wasn’t supposed to just to get to you. It may be the last time we ever speak. Know this, and know peace.” I tell her, and I don’t know if my ears are playing tricks on me, but I heard her gasp a second ago. I end the call, and fall on the bed.

I fall into a deep sleep, and it feels as though the weed is playing some sort of role in it, but hey, I am not complaining.

Once I get up, my brain tells me that Alessio will be back from wherever he’s gone.

I bang on his door , sure that if he was asleep, he’d be up now. Nobody f*****g sleeps while I am in captive.

He opens the door, dressed in his suit, but his tie is discarded. I look around his room. I have been in here before, but did not really get the chance to look around since I almost got killed.

“Why wouldn’t you just rest. I hope it gets to a point all you do is sleep. You’ll do everyone a great favour.” He tells me as one of his hands goes to his hip while the other is placed firmly on the door as though if he wants, he can slap it and it’ll hit me in the face. It seems like something he can do.

“Tell you what, I’ve actually rested. Also, it will never get to the point where all I do is sleep. I will be relentless until you let me go. Someone held against her own will doesn’t sleep all day like nothing is wrong.”

“What do you want this time around?” He goes straight to ask me the question.

“To talk to you.” I shrug, trying to push through his huge figure to see if I can find my way inside, but this man is huge, and he doesn’t let me.

“Say whatever you want to say here, and don’t waste my time.”

“Look, I just want us to reach a compromise. Things don’t have to be like this. I wanna go home, man.” I raise a hand up in plea, but all I get is a look from him that says I’m f****d up in the head.

“You should be begging me not to kill you, you know.” He makes it known as though we haven’t already gone down this lane.

“Don’t threaten me with that. We are way past it.” I roll my eyes.

“You are way past it, not me. I can always go back on my decision and kill you. Nothing is going to happen.”

Shock spirals down my spine, and I know I should beg him for whatever it is that I want.

“Look, I know that someone like me is the last person you expected your men to bring, but would you please hear me out?” I say, need and urgency are all encompassed in my voice.

“That is better, but no. I will not hear you out. Everything that happens will be on my terms. Now run along, and I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind.

I want to get a rope and f*****g strangle this man.

“I know what you did to my men. Don’t think I’m not watching.” He lets me know before I roll my eyes and walk away. Pathetic son of a b***h.

❦

Two days after the incident, Alessio comes to tell me that I should get dressed, that we are going out on a date. I do not have a choice, and so I do as I am told. Once I’m dressed, I try to style my braids, but I get a knock on the door, telling me that Alessio is waiting for me, and that we have no time.

I walk out of the room, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I follow two of his men. What a disrespect to take a lady out, and not be the one to open the door of her room.

We’re outside in no time, and I hop into the car when the door is opened for me. As expected, my date is seated by the window, looking out, and not even bothering to acknowledge me. If I make the mistake of opening my mouth to call him out for it, he’ll most likely say something like a thief should not be acknowledged.

Throughout the ride, nothing is said. I want to speak, but I know he'll turn to look at me as though I'm insane and say nothing.

The streets are deserted, and it makes me think he orchestrated the whole thing. That he sent a message to everyone around, telling them to sit there asses at home. What am I saying? I know nothing about this man, but I've heard so many times that the power he has in his hands can rule the whole world. I have never believed it, and I still need convincing. I will never be convinced because firstly, he isn't God, and secondly, it isn't like if he's shot at he wouldn't die except he's gotten involved in some sort of diabolical nonsense where guns and knives don't affect you. It is the s**t that goes down in Africa. I've heard a lot of stories.

I spot a restaurant from afar off, walls made with glass. There's nobody in there, and that has different things rummaging through my mind. Is this where my life will end? Man, it may be necessary for me to go down on my knees and beg him to spare my life. I can in fact start begging from the car.

The driver pulls up, and we get out. Two of his men take their spot at the entrance while the driver remains seated. Alessio walks in briskly while I'm behind him.

His men open the door for him, but when I'm about to get in, the door hits my nose.

"You son of a b***h!" I yell, raising my two hands up in the air helplessly for validation, but Alessio doesn't even spare me a glance.

I rub my nose, and hope it doesn't turn red or swell so that I will not look ridiculous.

He settles on a chair while I take my seat on the one opposite to him.

"What were you planning on stealing from me?" He throws the question out of nowhere, and I'm in shock. I open my eyes wide, and my mouth hangs open as well.

"I thought this was supposed to be a date."

"Oh yes, this is a date. I want to know more about you." He tells me, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

I'm quiet for a while, and I can tell he's trying to keep it cool.

"What were you trying to steal from me?" He repeats the question as though I have some sort of hearing problem.

"Your money, obviously." I shrug.

He stares at me for ten seconds—yes, I did count.

"Aren't we going to order something? You definitely didn't bring me here just to ask me questions. I'm hungry."

He will be a jackass to bring me here, claiming it was supposed to be a date, and have me hungry for as long as it spans.

"Oh, darling, if you thought I brought you here to eat, then you're duller than I thought." He spits out those words with no expression whatsoever on his face.

That is it, I've lost my patience.

I jump up from the chair like I was shot with a stun gun in the ass.

"Excuse me." I say, forehead wrinkles forming on my forehead before they quickly disappear.

"You did not bring me all the way here to insult me. I have taken enough."

"Shut up, sit down and answer my question. The attitude will not help." He directs his hand to the chair I just jumped from.

As much as I hate this man right now, and I want to kill him, there is no denying the fact that he is right. This isn't the United States. I'm in another land.

I sit down, and look him in the eyes, the dim lights of the restaurant somewhat helping.

"I'm hungry." I let him know, my tone showcasing plea.

He looks away from me, and types something on his plate. Not long after, a man walks toward us.

"I'll take your orders." He tells me. There is no menu, and I don't want to cross a line. The waiter being here all the while is a plus, and so I try to think of various Italian foods I know in my head.

"I'll have spaghetti alla carbonara, some wine, and any other thing you have." I can feel Alessio's eyes burrowing into my soul as I make my order, and I don't as much as spare him a glance because I know I'm bad at eye contact.

The waiter disappears, and it's just me and him again.

"We'll be getting married very soon." He says, and that is out of the blue. I don't have a reaction. It's not as though I haven't known. I have one request, though.

"Can you at least let me pick a wedding dress? It's the least you can do?" He shakes his head, and I know he doesn't need to speak anymore.

"A thief doesn't get the chance to pick her wedding dress. You'll work with whatever you have."

That is when the food arrives, and shamelessly, I eat. He watches me through it all, and when I'm as good as done with what is on the plate, he says, "I hope you ate enough, and are happy because we will be getting married tomorrow."