I have been in love with the man I was going to marry since I was 15. Logan and I had known each other since I was 10. We grew up together, we were best friends. I wanted to be his for the rest of my life, and I wanted him to be mine as well.
Then why did I have a pit in my stomach as I stared at myself in the mirror, in the most beautiful wedding dress, accessorized by the most gorgeous veil that was pinned in my beautifully styled chestnut-colored hair?
Why did I feel my heart beating faster than it usually did?
"Are you okay, Sibel?".
Angela's voice broke me out of my trance, making me turn around to look at her.
Maybe my heart was pounding so fast because I was excited.
"Yes, I'm fine.
Of course", I said, pushing down my unreasonable feelings.
"You don't seem fine, Sib", she pointed out.
Angela had a sixth sense for these kinds of things; she could always tell.
But what exactly could she tell? I was fine.
I love Logan, I want to marry him, and I will in a few minutes.
"It's just that the corset is a bit tight.
Oh, could you go get me some water?
With a straw?".
"Sure", she said with a defeated look before leaving the room.
The feeling didn't budge, it kept growing.
I got up, pacing around. Taking deep breaths.
I was fine, I'm fine.
I should be saying I do soon, and I feel overly excited.
I can't wait, I'm excited.
I'm not scared.
I turned to look out the window.
There he was, Logan.
Dressed in a perfectly fitted tux, his dirty blond hair is styled perfectly, just as I requested.
He was chatting away with a wide smile on his face with his groomsmen; he was happy.
So happy.
I was happy, he's made me so happy.
The pit in my stomach was only the size of an apple now, and I was breathing just fine.
I heard the door open, it was probably Angela.
"Angela, have you seen the groomsmen? Daniel cleans up nicely—".
I felt a cloth covering my mouth and nose. I scratched at the hand, but it wouldn't budge. It was a man, his grip was too strong.
I tried to scream, but I felt myself get weaker and weaker until I shut my eyes...…
I opened my eyes and regretted it immediately. Groaning in pain as I felt the biggest headache I've felt in years, even worse than my bachelorette hangover. The room was spinning, and it wasn't at all familiar, although I could tell it was very richly and gorgeously furnished.
Whoever my captor was was loaded and had good taste.
My memories started to come back the moment I looked at what I was wearing, my wedding dress.
Where was I?
Who took me?
I looked around and noticed a cup of water and some pills. Possibly a painkiller.
Like I would trust my kidnappers enough to drink their water.
However, how possible was it that a kidnapper would put me in such a lavish room, not tying me up or anything? Also, in a very comfortable bed.
I finally managed to stand up There were 4 doors, two I assumed were the bathroom and perhaps a closet.
My suspicions were verified when I opened one, finding an overly grand white and gold-themed bathroom, with a tub and a shower, and a wide counter space, with a ridiculously large mirror that covered the entire width of that part of the wall. The mirror gave me a view of what I looked like.
My wedding makeup was still holding up okay, which meant I hadn't been here for more than 5 hours.
I swallowed, feeling thirsty.
I rushed over to the sink. I thought they couldn't possibly poison tap water, could they?
I took some sips and then went back to the room. The other door, I suspected was the closet, was locked. So were the other two doors, but the wide double doors made me think that was the exit door.
I proceeded to knock on that door.
"Hello?!
Whoever you are, open this door now", I yelled, banging with both hands.
"Hey!
I know you can hear me!".
"Yes, I can", I heard a male voice say matter-of-factly, from behind me.
One of the four doors was open, which led to a balcony, where I assumed he came from.
He was dressed in a black suit, his hair just as dark as his pitch-black shoes.
I sized him up, admitting I could not outrun him; his legs were far too long, but I was open to trying. I could also not overpower him, he looked like he could snap my neck in one try.
He also had this look about him that made me wonder if he snapped necks for a living.
Although he was very handsome, I found it hard to admire him when I wondered if he had a gun underneath his suit.
"Who are you?
And why am I here?" I asked, mustering up as much confidence as I could.
The expression on his face didn't give anything away, but I could tell he was sizing me up, too.
I shifted my weight, standing up straighter.
I could be stronger than I look.
He couldn't tell that.
I watched his eyes go over to the bed, no. The side table by the bed, with the water and pills.
"You should take those, your head must be hurting", he said, his voice didn't sound like a kidnapper.
He was right, my headache was killing me, and I wasn't sure I was holding my head up properly.
If we had met under any other circumstances, I'd say he was absurdly good-looking and rich. Probably owned his business or took care of a family enterprise.
He talked like someone who was used to giving out orders and not exactly offering or suggesting anything. Almost like what he had just said tasted a bit sour in his mouth.
"You didn't answer my question", I retorted.
He looked at me now, taking long strides towards me, his hands still in his pockets.
At this moment, I couldn't help but feel like prey, waiting for the inevitable. I wouldn't be surprised if he exposed his tiger-like canines at this point.
I moved backward slowly, more scared of the more plausible possibility that he had a gun and would shoot me if I tried to run.
My back hit the door, stopping me from going further.
He was only a few steps away from me at this point, he was just about closing the distance till I darted over to a table, taking a ceramic sculpture.
It felt expensive, and lethal too.
Even a man as big as him would go down with a strong enough blow.
"Don't come any closer", I warned. Holding the object so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
He obeyed, though, even though I saw a wave of amusement flash through his stone-cold face.
"Yes, I have a gun, but I have no intention of shooting you.
If I wanted you dead or hurt, you would be by now", he explained.
One of my brows arched instinctively. I felt my nose twitch in anger.
"You kidnapping a woman on her wedding day is not hurting her?
Drugging her and dragging her to God knows where.
Are you on drugs?".
At this point, I was sure he was a serial kidnapper, perhaps a serial killer, and I was his next victim.
"If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be standing there with that in your hand".
"Oh, where are my manners?
Thank you for not caving my head in yet.
You are so kind, however, can I repay you?" I said sarcastically, making a sour look, pushing down the urge to roll my eyes.
Who did he think he was?
"You have quite a mouth.
The last time I saw you, you seemed pretty pleasant.
I guess first impressions lie", he said, turning away. He walked over to the couch, then took a seat. He reached for the liquor bottle beside him and poured himself a drink like this was a normal Sunday afternoon.
"Why am I here?" I asked, my patience flying out the balcony.
"If you won't take an Advil, at least join me for a drink.
Take a seat", he said, gesturing to the couch in front of him.
I was so sure I was snarling at him at this point; he had to be crazy if he thought I was just going to have a drink with my captor.
"Answer my question", I pushed further, crossing my hands and not moving an inch.
"Sibel", he said. I didn't know how he could make my name sound like a threat.
"I've been more than generous, I suggest you take a seat".
If my name wasn't a threat, that was.
"Well, you're not gonna shoot me.
So you might as well answer my question", despite my flight or fight instinct pleading with me to listen to my captor who had just admitted he had a gun, I wasn't backing down. Not until he told me what he wanted.
"I'm Damiano Gusto.
And you are going to be my wife".