Page 74 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

Day One of the Deadline—Evening

The ropes feel itchy against my skin as I stare into space, tears rolling down my cheeks. I should never have come here.

My stomach growls, then flips with nausea, bile rising in my throat. I tilt my head downward, waiting to throw up, but nothing comes. This has become a pattern in the last twenty-something hours that I’ve been in this mansion.

Another growl sounds, and this time, it is accompanied by a migraine. Fuck. Hunger, exhaustion, fear, and anxiety... I’ve felt it all since I’ve been here, but one hits harder than the others: Fear.

The clock is ticking. And each time I think about it, something wrenches my stomach. I wholeheartedly doubt if I’m even worth the hassle for him.

Having to turn yourself in for a crime you obviously didn’t commit in order to save a girl that doesn’t mean shit to you isn’t particularly comforting.

After all I heard on that stupid video recording, it’s obvious the mayor is trying to play a game and pin shit on Adriano. God help me, but for the first time, I wish he’d barge in here as the monster I know him to be and end it all.

Heaving a shaky breath, I look around, taking in the pale blue room with nothing but an adjoining bathroom and a small, rectangular window, high up on the wall. Darkness seems to be overtaking the clouds, so I push my fear aside and shakily continue working at the ropes again.

The mayor and his guards haven’t shown their faces in this room since they recorded the video early this morning.

I continue scraping my wrists against the vertical edge of the wooden chair, my heart racing incredibly fast.

My shoulders ache from being wrenched back, but luckily for me, the stupid guard who strapped me didn’t bind both of my wrists behind my back; he bound them by the sides. I’d quickly adjusted the center of my wrists to align with the sharp edge of the chair.

I rotate my wrists to create more space before scraping against the wood. But with limited flexibility, the coarse fiber keeps rubbing my skin raw. In no time, I feel the sting of a bruise followed by the trickle of blood, which elicits a sharp hiss from me. But as twisted as it sounds, even blood could be a lubricant.

Eternity seems to pass as my hands and mind work in tandem. I should be in a meeting with some models as part of my international launch campaign. I should be cuddled up with Puddles after the meeting.

And I suddenly wonder if everything’s fine with this little life growing inside of me.

What about Enzo… Oh, God! He would probably be mobilizing what’s left of the Rossis for a war they couldn’t win.

Tears sting my eyes, but right in that moment, something snaps, and my wrists are free. Instead of exhilaration, my anxiety worsens.

Without hesitation, I loosen the ropes around my legs and midsection, and break free, heading straight for the bathroom to relieve my bladder. Then I drag the chair to a spot where I can stand on it and access the window.

I’d have called for help, but they seized every item I came in here with.

When I push against the glass window, it doesn’t budge. Shit. A bead of sweat rolls down my back as I look over my shoulder, toward the door, trying to listen for any noise. I hear none, so I continue to push the window unsuccessfully. Damn. I’ll need to break it.

My heart doubles its pace as I climb down and scan the room for an object… anything to break out. When I find none, I head to the bathroom and luckily find a short piece of an iron rod attached to the back of the toilet bowl under the flush tank.

Climbing back onto the chair again, I smash the iron rod against the window with sweaty hands. The glass breaks on impact with a sound that could put me in trouble if I’m discovered.

I freeze, heart hammering. There’s absolute silence, and I waste no time, carefully removing the pieces, all while stopping at intervals to listen for any sounds of footsteps.

Adrenaline surges in my veins as I hike up my dress, and I stand on my tiptoes, balancing my knees on the thin, dusty windowsill, before pushing my head out. I let out a sharp hiss once I notice the height. It’s a two-story building, and the possibility that I could fall to my death swarms my mind. But I’d rather die trying than die at the hands of this vile bastard of a mayor.

And the window is so small that I can barely fit the width of my body through. My heart refuses to leave my throat as I finally manage to slide my entire body through it, groaning in pain as the broken shards slice my skin.

Once I’m totally out and balancing the sheer weight of my body on my bloody fingertips around the windowsill, I pause briefly to summon my courage before stretching my heels to the narrow, stone ledge just below me.

For a terrifying second, I think I missed my step, but it’s just my mind being a bitch. I let go of my grip on the window above me and land in a crouch on the narrow roof. Phew…

Chilly air pricks my skin as I crab walk to the edge, where there’s a thick wisteria vine at the edge of the wall. I swallow, testing my weight on the branches before climbing down.

Finally, I sink my feet into the grass and hide behind a wall to catch my breath and plot my next move. I hadn’t thought of how to sneak past the army of security when I got down.

Shit. What do I do now?

At the same moment, I spot a guard heading my way. I hold my breath, quickly hiding behind a tree as he passes with a stern face and a gun in hand. When I’m sure he’s gone, I step out, eyes darting for some sort of cover.