Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

Sasha lay on her side, enveloped in the comforting darkness of the night, the soft rustling of the curtains the only sound in the still room. Her body had just begun to slip into the depths of sleep when a sudden, eerie sensation ran across the sole of her foot. It was light—almost a whisper of movement—but enough to jolt her fully awake.

She flinched violently, kicking her foot instinctively, and threw the duvet off in alarm. Her breath hitched as her eyes darted across the mattress, scanning frantically for the culprit. But there was nothing. No sign of anything that could have touched her.

Annoyed, she turned her head sharply towards Darius, her eyes narrowing. His dark silhouette lay still beside her, his breathing even but not deep enough for true sleep.

"Be in your place and learn to control your body," she snapped, her voice sharp in the quiet.

Darius stirred, barely awake, his brows knitting together in confusion. His voice was groggy yet amused as he muttered, "What did you say?"

"You heard me," she huffed, turning away in frustration.

His deep voice held a hint of a smirk. "I was sleeping. I didn't do anything."

Sasha was about to fire back when, out of nowhere, a cold, slithering sensation crept across her hand. Her breath caught in her throat. Before she could process it, instinct took over, and she shook her hand wildly, letting out a startled yelp.

Something—something real—was flung across the room.

The sound of its small body landing somewhere in the dark sent a shiver down her spine. She scrambled up, her pulse hammering against her ribs. One hand pressed to her chest, she tried to steady her breath, but her skin still crawled with the ghost of the touch.

Across the bed, Darius was watching her. A slow, amused smile spread across his face, his dark eyes gleaming even in the dimness.

"Was it funny?" she demanded, her voice a mix of outrage and lingering fear.

"Maybe." His smirk deepened.

Her nostrils flared. "How rich you are, and yet I have to sleep with lizards? Is this a jungle or what?"

Darius propped himself up on one elbow, his tousled hair falling over his forehead. "What do you think?"

She glared at him. "I think you have forgotten the importance of pest control. Since you're always so busy with your favorite work, let me remind you—this expensive house of yours needs it!"

Darius chuckled, his voice smooth as silk. "Calm down, or you'll scare the insects. We need proof for the pest control workers. Otherwise, they'll just say there's no problem, and then what? Should I tell them that my wife screamed the bugs away?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, her irritation growing by the second.

"Where am I supposed to sleep now?" she snapped.

"Were you sleeping on the moon before?" he shot back, his smirk deepening.

Deciding she had no patience for his teasing, she turned on her heel and marched towards the bedroom door. With one swift motion, she yanked it open and stepped out, slamming it shut behind her.

From inside, she heard his voice, laced with amusement. "Where are you going?"

She didn't answer. She had no interest in giving him the satisfaction of a response.

She strode down the hallway, her bare feet making soft sounds against the cool floor, and stopped at the nearest guest room. Flicking the switch, she let out a small breath of relief. The room was spotless. No unwanted visitors, no movement in the shadows.

Satisfied, she padded towards the bed, pulling back the covers. As she sank into the mattress, she switched off the lights and stared at the ceiling.

But even in the silence, she couldn't shake the sensation of that tiny, unwelcome touch from her skin.

And she had the unsettling feeling that, somewhere in the house, the lizard was still lurking.

The soft chime of a notification echoed in the quiet room, breaking the stillness of the early morning. Sasha stirred, her lashes fluttering as she groggily reached for her phone, the screen's glow reflecting in her sleep-heavy eyes. The moment she unlocked it, a single message from Darius appeared.

**Be ready by 4.**

She groaned, letting her phone slip from her fingers onto the sheets. Rolling onto her stomach, she stretched her limbs, her body still sluggish from sleep. A hoarse sound escaped her lips as she buried her face into the pillow, trying to delay the inevitable—getting up.

After a few moments of indulging in the comfort of her bed, she lazily extended her arm, feeling around blindly for her phone. Her fingers brushed against the device, and she pulled it toward her, blinking at the time.

**9:17 AM.**

Sasha exhaled, realizing she had no choice but to start her day.

By the time the clock neared four in the evening, Sasha sat in front of her vanity, putting the final touches on her appearance. Her reflection stared back at her—long, wavy hair cascading over her shoulders, soft makeup accentuating her sharp features, and a dress that hugged her in all the right places. Darius had told her to be ready, and as much as she loathed following his orders, she wasn't about to test his patience today.

A sudden knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned her head slightly just as the door creaked open, revealing Darius standing in the doorway. His dark eyes swept over her, taking in her perfectly put-together form.

"You're ready," he noted, more of an observation than praise.

She didn't respond.

"Come down," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a sigh, Sasha rose from her seat and followed him downstairs.

The car ride was mostly silent, save for the low hum of the engine and Darius's deep voice as he spoke on the phone. His fingers gripped the steering wheel with effortless control, his entire presence exuding authority. Sasha sat beside him, her hands clasped in her lap as she stared out the window.

Her stomach gave an uncomfortable twist. She hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Glancing at the time on the dashboard, she realized it was already evening. She hesitated for a moment before speaking up.

"Can we stop by a restaurant?" she asked, turning to look at him.

Darius momentarily shifted his gaze from the road to her, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Why?"

"Actually, I'm hungry," she admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed to bring it up.

"You can eat after a few hours," he dismissed casually. "It's our reception, not someone else's."

Sasha frowned. "But I haven't had lunch."

That made him glance at her again, his brows furrowing slightly. "Why?"

She sighed, shifting in her seat. "I was in the garden for a while and lost track of time. By the time I realized, it was already late, and I had to get ready quickly."

Darius didn't respond immediately. Instead, his expression remained unreadable as he refocused on the road.

"So, can we stop somewhere? I'll eat quickly," she added.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Sasha half-expected him to ignore her request entirely, but then, without a word, he turned the steering wheel and pulled the car into the parking lot of a small café.

Before she could say anything, he stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him. She watched through the windshield as he disappeared inside.

A few minutes later, Darius returned, slipping into the driver's seat and tossing a paper bag onto her lap. The warmth of the bag spread through her fingers as she peeked inside, finding a strawberry donut, a slice of pastry, and a couple of muffins.

She blinked at the contents. "You didn't even ask what I wanted. What if I don't like this?"

Darius, already fastening his seatbelt, turned his head toward her, his expression darkening. Without hesitation, he reached for the bag, gripping it as if he was about to toss it out the window.

"Then let me throw it away," he said flatly. "You can go inside and get what you want yourself."

Panic surged through her. Her hands shot forward, grabbing onto his arm tightly.

"No, no, no! Don't!" she pleaded hurriedly. "I like it! Please, I'm hungry."

Darius arched a single brow, watching her with mild amusement. Slowly, he handed the bag back to her. The second her fingers wrapped around it, she snatched it close, clutching it like it was a treasure.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, barely audible, before he put the car back into gear and drove off.

Sasha took a bite of the donut, chewing thoughtfully as she stole a glance at him. Even when he was frustrating, even when he was cold, there were moments—fleeting, subtle moments—where she could almost see something softer beneath his hardened exterior.

Almost.

And yet, she wasn't sure if she wanted to see more.

As they reached the venue, Darius took Sasha's hand in his, his grip firm yet possessive. He didn't ask for permission—he simply claimed her, as he always did. The moment they stepped out of the car, the flashing lights exploded around them, relentless and blinding. Cameras clicked in rapid succession, the paparazzi eager to capture a glimpse of the enigmatic mafia king and his stunning companion.

Muscular guards, dressed in tailored black suits, moved with practiced efficiency, forming a human barrier around them. The press and curious onlookers were kept at bay as they navigated through the crowd and into the grand venue.

Inside, the decorations were nothing short of luxurious. Deep purple orchids adorned the archways, their velvety petals contrasting beautifully with arrangements of soft pink and white roses. Crystal chandeliers bathed the hall in a golden glow, illuminating the marble floors and velvet-lined walls. It was the perfect blend of power and elegance—just like Darius himself.

Sasha felt the weight of lingering stares. Darius's men, seasoned criminals and ruthless enforcers, openly admired her. Some with curiosity, others with less-than-innocent intent. She ignored them, lifting her chin slightly in defiance.

The moment she entered, Lea appeared, her eyes lighting up. Without hesitation, she pulled Sasha into a tight embrace.

"I'm so glad you're here," Lea whispered against her shoulder.

Sasha, despite everything, found comfort in her warmth. They moved to a quieter corner and settled into plush seats, engaging in quiet conversation. Lea's laughter was soft, but there was an ease in it—a rare sight for a woman who had endured so much.

Meanwhile, Darius and Leon were occupied with their men, discussing business in hushed tones. The presence of powerful allies and potential threats kept them on edge, their sharp gazes constantly scanning the room.

Then, a man—likely in his late forties, dressed in an expensive navy-blue suit—approached Darius. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, and he held a half-smoked cigar between his fingers. The heavy scent of tobacco clung to him as he exhaled slowly, eyes flickering toward Sasha with a lecherous smirk.

"Nice choice," he muttered, taking another puff of his cigar. His gaze lingered on Sasha in a way that made Darius's blood boil. "She's damn sexy."

The temperature around Darius seemed to drop. His fingers curled into fists, his jaw clenching tight. The air thickened with unspoken violence as he turned to face the man, his voice dangerously low.

"Don't forget," Darius said, his tone like a blade, "she is your queen. Or I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your head."

A tense silence followed. The older man exhaled a slow, amused chuckle, holding up a hand in mock surrender. "Just joking, man. Calm down."

Darius didn't blink.

Before the conversation could escalate, Leon appeared at his side. "It's time," he said, nodding toward the grand stage.

The tension remained, but Darius allowed himself to be pulled away. The guests were summoned, their murmurs filling the space as they gathered around the large, multi-tiered cake. Sasha stood beside Darius, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across her delicate features.

She hesitated. The spotlight was on her now. Eyes bore into her, scrutinizing her every movement. Swallowing her nerves, she cut a small piece of cake and, with obvious reluctance, lifted it to Darius's lips. He accepted it without expression, his gaze never leaving hers. Then, he returned the gesture, feeding her in turn.

A round of applause followed, mixed with a few suggestive whistles and murmured remarks.

"Was it delicious?" someone called out.

Another voice added, "It has to be—otherwise, what's the point of all this sweetness?"

Darius's expression darkened. He understood the implication immediately. His men weren't just talking about the cake.

The crude remarks continued.

"Come on, Darius. Share that delicious cake with us too."

Another voice chimed in. "We've waited all evening for this moment."

Darius had enough.

He shrugged off his coat and tossed it to Leon, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. His movements were slow, deliberate—like a predator preparing to strike.

"Come," he said, voice laced with warning. "I'll feed you the cake myself."

The men stiffened, clearly realizing they had pushed too far.

"Why are you taking it to heart?" one of them stammered. "We were just pulling your leg."

"Yeah," the other added, his smirk faltering. "It's normal for people to tease young couples." His eyes flicked to Sasha, his meaning clear.

Darius didn't give him time to say another word.

His fist connected with the man's jaw in a sickening crack. The force sent him sprawling to the ground, his chair toppling over. The second man barely had time to react before Darius spun around and landed a brutal punch to his stomach. He doubled over, gasping.

The first man recovered and lunged at Darius from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck in an attempt to strangle him.

Leon didn't hesitate.

He grabbed the wine glass from the table, shattered it against the edge, and drove the jagged shards into the attacker's head. Blood and wine mingled as the man stumbled back, releasing Darius instantly.

The second man, seeing his brother wounded, moved to retaliate—but Darius caught him first, gripping his collar and delivering a bone-crushing blow to his face.

Together, Darius and Leon rained down punches, beating them black and blue. The guards finally intervened, dragging the bloodied men away.

As the dust settled, Lea ran to Leon, her face pale with worry. She clutched his shirt, searching for injuries.

"Are you hurt?" she murmured against his chest.

Leon said nothing, merely running a reassuring hand down her back, his fingers lingering at the curve of her waist where their unborn child grew.

"You shouldn't have been here," he murmured. "You need to be careful."

"Where would I go without you?" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Leon exhaled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We're leaving, Darius."

Darius gave a brief nod. He watched as Leon and Lea exited, their forms disappearing into the night.

The hall slowly returned to normal. The guests resumed their conversations, as if the violent altercation had never happened.

Darius, ever composed, retrieved spare clothes from his car. After changing into a fresh shirt, he returned to the venue, looking as untouched as ever.

But something was off.

He scanned the crowd.

Sasha was gone.

A wedding planner approached. "Sir, it's time for your dance."

Darius didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and dialed Sasha's number.

It rang.

And then, finally, she picked up.