The Devil's Inferno

7| First Date.

ALMA

“Do not mistake my leniency, patience, or mercy for weakness.” Lazzaro’s voice reverberated through the room.

I closed my eyes, my voice shaking with fear and fury as I spoke, “do it!”

If his plan was to kill me then it was better he did it now to ease me of whatever pain and suffering he had in store for me.

Cold sweats ran down my spine as I awaited my end, but it never came. Instead, he pulled the gun away and took a few steps backwards.

My eyes snapped open, tears glistening in them.

“I’m not killing you, Alma. At least not before our wedding,” he muttered, his intense gaze fixed on me.

“I don’t know whatever you think, but I am not marrying my sister’s murderer. So, it is better you kill me now. Or else…” I took a step closer to him, hatred filling my chest, “I promise you, Lazzaro, I will get back at you for what you did to Zita. I will make sure you do not get away with it.”

At the mention of my sister, grief hit me all over again with its iron fist, and my eyes welled up with tears.

“First off, I didn’t kill Zita. Your father knows that. And secondly...” He picked up the envelope he came in with and flashed it at me. “It is a done deal. You are mine already!”

Lazzaro was my father’s f*****g enemy. Both families had hated each other for years after the deadly blood feud. How could my father agree to marry me off to someone like him? How could he throw me out like this?

“What leverage do you have against him?” I demanded.

Hell, I always knew a day like this would come, when I’d be a pawn in a contract. But not like this. Not to our greatest enemy. And definitely not after my sister’s death. I hadn’t even had time to grieve properly. For my father to agree to such a thing, Lazzaro must have had powerful leverage.

Rage, fear, and frustration bubbled through me at the thought of being with this man that was out to murder me. I needed to find a way out. Even if it meant escaping from this country. Even if it meant leaving my family behind.

With new determination, I’d stick to my plan of escaping during the f*****g dinner date. But I was going somewhere else and not my father’s manor anymore. So, standing straight and holding my head up high, I pushed back the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.

“Where are you taking me to?” I asked him with a straight face.

He tilted his head to the side and stared at me for a moment, trying to figure out my sudden switch. Then he sighed and muttered, “To ascertain trust, your father’s restaurant.”

When we arrived at the restaurant, we were ushered to a reserved table. Moments later, waitresses appeared with trays of food and placed them before us before disappearing.

“These were prepared by your father’s workers. Can you eat now?” he asked, opening one of the plates and gazing at the food.

Nodding, I opened a plate of lasagna and began to dig in, pretending to enjoy it. He hadn’t even bothered to ask what I wanted. I hated lasagna. But for the sake of my plan, I ate it anyway.

“What do you think I should know about you before the marriage?” he asked as he ate.

My face twisted in disgust at the thought of marrying him.

“Table manners,” I replied coldly, refusing to engage in conversation.

“Have you been with any man before? I know you weren’t allowed to see men, but did you secretly meet anyone?” he pressed.

“Why? Do you want to know if you’ll be the one opening the gate? Or worse, do you want to kill him?” I shot my brow up.

“Both,” he muttered.

“Yes. I’ve been with at least twenty men, and I’m not a virgin. Good luck finding them,” I said, deliberately taunting him.

His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he glared at me. “Do not play with me, Alma. I don’t like jokes.”

“Table manners,” I exhaled sharply, trying my best not to snap at him. I must not jeopardize my only chance to escape.

“Where do you want the wedding to be?” he asked, ignoring everything I had just said.

“That is—” I suddenly retched, covering my mouth with my palm.

“Where is the restroom?” I breathed as I quickly jumped to my feet and hurried away.

A waitress rushed to me, concern etched on her face.

She opened her mouth to talk, but I cut her off. “Restroom,” I said and retched again.

“This way,” she said, leading me down a passage.

I could feel Lazzaro following us, but I didn’t turn to look at him. When we arrived at the restroom, I quickly pushed the door open and slipped inside. He tried to follow, but I glared at him and slammed the door shut.

Once I was inside, alone, I cut the act immediately. I had to move fast and be long gone before Lazzaro suspected anything. Rushing to the window, I squeezed through and jumped out. My legs hit the ground hard, twisting painfully as a sharp sting shot through them.

I clapped my hand over my mouth immediately to stop my scream from bouncing out. I didn’t even wait to recover before limping away as quickly as possible and got to the road side.

My hand reached the necklace Lazzaro had given me and I forcefully tugged it off, tossing it inside the moving truck that passed me. I had been in the mafia long enough to know that Lazzaro wouldn’t just gift me a necklace. There had to be a tracker in it, and I had to get rid of it to ensure a smooth escape.

Without hesitation, I began to hurry down the street, hailing cabs as I moved, but none of them stopped, and frustration began to tug at my chest. I couldn’t continue on foot, else I would be caught. Beads of sweat coated my skin as I continued to run and hail cabs at the same time.

What was f*****g wrong with these cabs?

Suddenly, a black SUV pulled up beside me and I turned to look. My eyes widened in shock when I saw two hefty men in black jumping out of it and approaching me. f**k! Lazzaro had noticed my absence.

Fear gripped me as I began to run with everything I had to escape them. But I could barely cover a short distance before they closed in, gripping my arm tightly.

“Shlyukha, idi syuda!” one of the men hissed.

Russian? The fear coursing through me doubled over at this realization. They weren’t Lazzaro’s men!

I tried to resist as they dragged me, screaming at the top of my lungs, hoping someone, anyone, would come to my aid. But no help came.

“Shut the f**k up!” one of them groaned as he slung me over his shoulder, walked over to the car, and shoved me inside.