The Arrangement: An Age Gap, Mafia Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)
The Arrangement: Chapter 26

Waking up, there’s an undeniable grin plastered on my face, feeling like I’ve been wrapped up not just in these sheets, but in Maksim himself. It’s kind of wild, the way his scent lingers, a comforting, strong embrace all its own.

Lying here, I can’t help but replay bits and pieces, each memory sparking a fresh wave of butterflies. It’s a new side of me, one that Maksim’s somehow coaxed into the light, and I’m not mad about it. Not one bit.

I roll over, my hand instinctively searching for the warmth where Maksim lay just a short while ago. There’s something about the residual heat that feels like a hug, a promise of his presence. I keep the dopey grin off my face, feeling every bit the love-struck fool. It’s ridiculous, how much I want to stay tangled up in him, not just in these sheets, but in this life, in everything.

I shift, getting comfortable on my stomach, my gaze settling on the gentle dance of flames in the fireplace. The crackle and pop of the fire are soothing, almost hypnotic, providing the perfect backdrop for my thoughts to wander.

This weekend has been an eye-opener in so many ways, revealing layers of Maksim I hadn’t dared hope to replace. Seeing him with Adelina, witnessing the tenderness, the effortless love… it’s confirmed so much for me.

I’d had this nagging doubt, this question mark looming over the whole situation with the baby. But now, watching the play of light and shadow, feeling the warmth of his bed, I know. I have to tell him. The fear of how he might react, of the potential perils his world could pose, is dwarfed by the certainty that he’s a good man, a good father. And somehow, someway, we’ll navigate this together.

The sounds of laughter and morning chaos drift up from the kitchen, Maksim, Adelina, and Irina all contributing to the symphony of a lively household. It’s a music I’m growing fonder of by the minute, a total contrast to the solitude I’m used to. With a smile tugging at my lips, I dart into the bathroom for a quick shower, the warm water a welcome embrace.

As the steam wraps around me, my hand drifts to my belly, a gesture that’s becoming more instinctual by the day. There’s a surreal quality to it, this knowledge that I’m carrying a new life inside me. Excitement bubbles up, tinged with a healthy dose of fear. The reality of becoming a mom is daunting, thrilling, and a thousand other emotions I can’t quite name.

Showered and dressed in a rush of newfound energy, I’m practically buzzing to get back to them, to immerse myself in the warmth of their company. But as I make my way downstairs, a draft catches my attention—the front door, inexplicably ajar.

Frowning, I approach, a sliver of unease slicing through the morning’s joy. I push the door open wider, peering out into the bright day, searching for any sign of why it was left open. The quiet street offers no answers, just the peaceful hum of a typical morning.

With a shrug, I dismiss the nagging worry, attributing it to forgetfulness, maybe Irina or Maksim stepping out briefly.

Just as I step outside, soaking in the calm of the morning, a chill runs down my spine. Something’s off.

Before I can turn, a hand like a vise clamps around my wrist, yanking me backward. Instinct kicks in—I try to pull away, but it’s like being caught in a bear trap. I barely catch a glimpse of the assailant before his other hand slams over my mouth, and suddenly, I’m in a world of trouble.

My heart’s pounding so hard I swear it might break through my rib cage. Panic’s clawing at me, and I’m suddenly yanked out into the daylight that’s become harsh and shadowy, making everything look sinister. The rough hand clamped over my mouth silences me before I can even scream. I’m fighting, kicking, and twisting, trying anything to get free, but it’s like I’m battling a freaking iron statue.

Then, I’m off my feet, dangling in the air like some damsel in a bad movie, except there’s no hero coming to save me. This dude’s strength is just unreal. He’s hauling me to a car, and I see the trunk open, ready to swallow me whole. Hell no. I’m not going out like this. I thrash harder, desperation giving me a boost of strength, but it’s like trying to fight a tidal wave with a spoon.

Dumped in the trunk, the cold hits me hard, and that slam of the lid is like the final nail in a coffin. But I’m not giving up. Maksim, Adelina, the little life inside me—everything flashes before my eyes, and hell, if I’m not fighting for them.

The engine roars, and I’m trying to keep my cool, trying to think despite the fear. But panic grips me tighter than any physical chain could. I start kicking and punching the lid with all I’ve got, my screams tearing through the cramped darkness. For a second, there’s this sliver of hope that someone will hear, that this nightmare will end as suddenly as it began.

Forced to face the reality that no one’s going to hear me, I try to calm the storm inside. Deep breaths, Tory, deep breaths, I tell myself, trying to push away the terror. The car’s moving further and further away from Maksim with every moment that passes.

Kicking the trunk is useless. I’ve seen enough movies to know the trick, but it’s not working. It’s like this car’s built to keep nightmares inside. So, I stop, conserve my energy. I’ve got to think, got to be smart about this. There has to be another way out, another way to get back to Maksim and Adelina. And I’m going to replace it, no matter what.

The music’s blasting so loud outside this metal coffin, it’s a wonder I can keep a single thought straight in my head. But I’ve got to focus, got to dig deep into my memory of the self-defense class I’d taken when I’d first moved out on my own. The instructor told us car trunks have an emergency release button inside.

Fumbling around in the darkness, my hands search desperately for the latch I’m sure is supposed to be here. But my hands come up empty, no latch, no lever, nothing. Maybe the car’s too old, or maybe not every car has one. Great, just my luck.

Next, I move to the back of the seats, thinking maybe there’s a chance they fold down or there’s some kind of release mechanism. But again, nothing. I’m trapped in a metal coffin. The realization sinks in—I’m stuck here until they decide to let me out, wherever and whenever that’s going to be.

The thought sends a fresh wave of panic through me, but I clamp down on it. I can’t afford to lose it. Maksim has to notice I’m gone soon. He’s smart, observant. The hope that he’ll realize I’m missing, that he’ll come for me, is the only thing keeping the despair at bay.

I curl into the fetal position, trying to conserve my energy, to prepare for whatever comes next. I have to be ready.

Time stretches into an endless void, each second an eternity in the suffocating darkness of the trunk. The car’s movements become a monotonous rhythm, lulling me into a state of hyper-awareness where every sound, every shift feels amplified.

I try to piece together our route from the turns and stops, but without sight, it’s like trying to solve a puzzle in the dark. Frustration gnaws at me, but I push it down, forcing myself to stay focused, stay sharp.

The car slows, the music cuts off, and the world outside falls silent. My heart leaps into my throat. This is it. We’re stopping. Panic and anticipation twist inside me, battling for dominance. I take a deep, steadying breath, trying to brace myself for what’s to come.

The engine shuts off, and for a moment, there’s complete silence. Then the sound of car doors opening and closing pierces the quiet, followed by muffled voices. I strain to listen, to catch any clue or hint of where we might be, but the words are indistinct, the conversation frustratingly out of reach.

Suddenly, light floods the trunk as the lid is thrown open, blinding me after hours in darkness. Blinking against the brightness, I see figures looming over me, their faces obscured. I’m momentarily frozen, the shock of the transition from dark to light disorienting me. But then survival instinct kicks in. This might be my only chance.

Hands reach in to drag me out and I kick, aiming for any part of them I can reach.

‘Not without a fight,’ I hiss through gritted teeth. There’s a moment of surprise from my captors, a hesitation I use to my advantage, twisting and turning in an attempt to break free.

As they grapple to regain control, their hands rough and insistent, I feel the cold bite of something binding my wrists. Panic surges anew, lending me a burst of desperate strength. I twist, fighting against their hold with every ounce of my being.

In the chaos, my fingers replace purchase on something unexpected—the edge of a mask. With a sharp tug, the mask peels away, and the face beneath is revealed in a moment of startling clarity.

Nicky. My heart stops. Nicky, of all people. His eyes widen in shock, mirroring my own, before a veil of resignation falls over his expression. Before I can process the betrayal, a cloth is thrown over my eyes, plunging me back into darkness, the reality of his involvement a bitter pill I have no time to swallow.

They work quickly now, their movements efficient, as if eager to rectify their momentary lapse. I’m hoisted once again, the world tilting around me as they toss me back into the trunk. This time, there’s no fight left in me; bound and blindfolded, the feeling of helplessness is overwhelming.