Married To The Mafia: Book II

11 - Sticky Note.

"Marcel! You startled me."

He smiled slowly, taking his time to let his lips spread to the corners of his face. "That's putting it mildly, given how pale you look."

Pamela watched him, tongue-tied, as he reached calmly behind him and lifted a double-barrel shotgun crosswise against his chest, one hand on the trigger, the other on the barrels. Pamela would have felt better had he been fidgety, jumpy, restive or sweaty, instead, he was as still as a millpond, smiling at her like she had casually dropped by for a cup of coffee. His smile was as disconcerting as it was bone chilling.

Now, Pamela tugged at the cable ties as anger and fear seeped through her in mixed proportions as she remembered the events that had unfolded. How stupid of her. Marcel hadn't left the kitchen but had waited in the dark to be sure if an intruder had really entered his house.

He'd tied her up with the help of Boris, who had been very rough and unfriendly. He was a far cry from the gentle, loving, always-smiling aide she'd know for three years. It hurt to think that he'd been pretending. But did that hurt like Marcel's betrayal? No. She'd known him for far longer than that.

"Why are you doing this?" She'd asked him after they'd tied her up.

He smiled. "My answer will depend on how much you overheard."

She licked her lips nervously. "I didn't hear anything. I swear."

"So you were really playing hide and seek behind the fridge?"

Her mind started to race wildly with spine-chilling thoughts. She had to think of a way out, and fast too. "Marcel, please."

"Stop saying that word it irks me."

"Why are you doing this? I trusted you."

Marcel sighed dramatically and sat on a sofa from across her. "Well if you must know. I have been pretending all along."

That wasn't rocket science. "Why?"

"Because dear Pamela, you are the key to one of the most biggest trust funds in the world. I need that money. At least my boss does."

"Your boss?"

"You think Peter was the only one? You thought everything was over with his death?"

"I don't know what to think, Marcel. But what I know is, this is not you. There is good in you Marcel." She paused to let that take effect. "That Marcel that stood up against Fatimah to save me is still in there somewhere."

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I admit, at that point where I was condemned to die, my hormones went into overdrive and I acted the knight in shining armour, but later, I realized I had nothing to lose if I worked for the higher ups myself and be useful to our cause and what is that? To retrieve the money your dad stole."

Pamela took in deep breaths to calm herself down, before saying in a fierce whisper, "My dad was not a thief!"

"No? Whatever. I have nothing to say to you. I'm just glad you came here all by yourself. You made my job easier. At first, the plan was to marry you and get the codes to unlock the accounts bearing your names, but now that the cat is out in the open, I'll take you to my boss and we'll force it out of you."

Her brows drew together in confusion. She'd heard about this from Fener but she hadn't taken the crazy man serious. "I don't know what you're talking about. What accounts?"

"Off shore accounts. And you have the codes to it."

"I have nothing!"

He laughed and walked towards her. "Don't stress yourself honey. Rest." He stroked her hair. It was all she could do not to spit in his face. "We leave tonight."