XANDER VITTORIO LOVE STORY

Anya de Luna's POV

Terrified, I stare at Xander.

He looks a hell of a lot calmer than I feel.

In a matter of hours, I've gone from swapping clothes with Olga to being grabbed off the street to a car accident to being kidnapped.

It's surreal.

God.

Panic flares hot through my chest, and a hysterical breakdown threatens to overwhelm me.

If I weren't scared out of my mind, I'd actually appreciate how attractive Xander is. He has longish, dark brown hair, and strands fall over his forehead, making him look like one of the bad boys Papa Rocky Ace always warned me about. His eyes are brown with golden flecks giving me the impression he's a jokester. He's not dressed in a suit like Olga's other guards but is wearing black cargo pants, a black t-shirt, and boots.

There are tattoos on the back of his hands running all the way up his forearms, where I can see his veins snaking beneath his skin.

I have an overwhelming need to get to know him because he's locked in this tiny room with me. Without him, I'd be alone, and that's not something I can deal with right now. Honestly, I'm trying not to think about the fact that I'm in deep crap.

With anxiety tightening my voice, I ask, "How old are you?"

A frown forms on his forehead before he gives me a skeptical look. "Seriously? Do you understand how much trouble we're in?"

Turning my head away from him, I look at my knees and wrap my arms tighter around my shins. "I just want to know who I'm stuck with."

I want something to distract me from this horrible situation because thinking about the trouble I find myself in will make me lose my mind.

I should've gone back to the hotel. I never should've entered the club and agreed to swap clothes with Olga. If my parents were alive, none of this would've happened.

Xander lets out a sigh and leans back against the wall. "I'm twenty."

My eyes dart to his face again. The bruises near his left eye and jaw are turning purple, but it doesn't make him look any less attractive. "I'm eighteen," I whisper.

I'm only eighteen, and I've lost my parents. Now I've been kidnapped, and I'm stuck in a dingy room with a guy I don't know.

My breathing speeds up, and there's no stopping the wave of panic tearing through my insides.

A guy who kidnapped me.

Oh, God.

I duck my head, pinch my eyes shut, and bite my bottom lip as overwhelming anxiety and fear send shockwaves through my body.

What have I gotten myself into?

My breaths are coming so fast a strangling sound escapes me.

"Won't help to panic," Xander mutters as if being kidnapped is just another everyday thing for him. "It will piss them off, which means they'll kill you first."

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

I lift my head, gulping breaths of air. My eyes lock on Xander, and I gasp, "I'm just a tourist here. I'm an Italian citizen."

He shrugs. "None of that matters to them." His features tighten momentarily, but I can't place the emotion on his face. "Just do as they say." He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. "My father should already be looking for us."

I stare at him, confused that he's so calm.

"Why aren't you scared?" Maybe he knows something he's not telling me.

His gaze flicks to the door. "Fearing the inevitable is pointless."

My voice trembles when I ask, "What is inevitable?"

I don't want to know.

Not really.

Alexander brings his attention back to me. "You're already panicking. The last thing I need is you having a breakdown."

His reply makes my fear double in size.

Suddenly the question I've been trying to hold back pops from my mouth. "You kidnapped me? Because you thought I was Olga?"

If I hadn't swapped clothes with her, I wouldn't be in this mess.

Xander's jaw clenches, and then he nods. "Why?" An impatient look crosses his face. "Like I said, you're in the middle of a war."

Resentment toward the man beside me fills my chest, and I turn my eyes to my legs.

We hear footsteps outside the door, then a rattling of keys. When the door swings open, my mouth grows bone dry, and my eyes widen.

Two very scary-looking men come into the small room. They don't look Filipinos, though, and neither is old enough to be Olga's father.

Xander lets out a chuckle. "Riccardo Ponti." I hear him move, and shooting a glance at Xander, I watch as he climbs to his feet. There's a hate-filled expression on his face that makes him look just as terrifying as our captors. "Does Lukas know what you're up to?"

The man, who I assume is Riccardo Ponti takes a step closer to Xander. "Until the mafia and bratva cut ties, we don't report to Lukas."

Xander lets out another chuckle that sounds more like a warning. "Viktor and Lukas will kill you for this."

Riccardo gestures toward me, and the other man comes to grab my arm.

I'm yanked to my feet and exclaim, "No. Wait." Panic and terror swirl in my stomach, making me feel queasy.

I give Xander a pleading look, hoping he can stop whatever's about to happen, but he doesn't even look in my direction.

I struggle against the hold on my arm while crying for them to wait as they drag me out of the room.

I'm taken down a narrow hallway, where I notice four armed guards before I'm shoved into another room.

Riccardo takes a seat on a chair, and crossing his legs, his eyes slowly sweep over me. He seems to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and wearing a suit, he looks like an ordinary businessman.

The other man still has a biting hold on my arm, and all I can do is tremble, my fear too intense to try and think straight.

"Who are you?" Riccardo asks.

"I'm a tourist, an Italian." I have the futile hope that my nationality will keep them from hurting me or worse. My mind slams up a wall, refusing to think of death.

A frown forms on the man's forehead. "How are you affiliated with the Demonyo Mafia?"

My tongue darts out to wet my lips. "I'm not. I don't even know what the Mafia is."

He tilts his head, his dark eyes staring at me until I fear that I'll wet myself. "What's your name?"

"Anya...Anya de Luna."

"Never heard of you." He glances at the man holding my arm and orders with a bored tone, "She's worthless. Get rid of her."

An eerie sensation ghosts over my skin, and a feeling I've never felt before rattles me to my core. I'm not ready to die. Honestly, I'm terrified of dying.

Maybe if I explain the situation that I just swapped clothes with Olga, he'll let me go. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but something tells me not to divulge the information. Instead, I beg, "Please. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone."

The man gripping my arm says, "She was in the back seat with Xander. They looked cozy before we rammed into their vehicle. We could use her to break him."

I almost divulge that I don't know Xander but bite my bottom lip to keep from talking.

Riccardo again just stares at me, then asks, "What's your relationship with Alexander Vittorio?"

Lie!

"Ahhh..." I wet my lips again, my anxiety level through the roof. "I like him...love him! We...we're dating."

They will ask Xander, and if he tells them the truth, I'm good as dead.

At least I'm buying myself a couple of minutes.

"Take her back to the room."

I'm manhandled, and when I'm shoved back into the small room, my eyes lock on Xander.

Instead of asking Xander to verify what I said, the door is locked again, and we're left alone.

"Oh, God," I whimper, goosebumps spreading over my body. I sink to my knees, and wrapping my arms around my middle, a horrible sob escapes me.

"What did they do?" Xander asks, his tone too calm for my frazzled mind to handle.

"T-they wanted t-t-to know who I am," I sputter. I give Xander a pleading look. "I-I told them we're dating. They were going to k-kill me. I panicked and lied. Please don't tell them the truth."

When I'm done rambling, Xander just stares at me.

"Please," I beg again. "I didn't know what else to do."

When I start to cry, ugly sobs bursting from me, he says, "Calm down. I'm not telling them shit, so your secret is safe with me."

Intense hope washes through me, and I feel dizzy from relief.

"T-thank you," I whisper, uncontrollable sobs shuddering through me.

"It's the least I can do for kidnapping you," he mutters. He rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes.

All I can do is stare at the guy who's way too calm in the nightmare we find ourselves in.

XXX