Page 194 of Mafia Billionaire's Surprise Baby

Marisol nods. “I have some things to say to him.”

I love a woman hell bent on vengeance.

“Cool. So. We getting out of here or what?”

She deflates slightly. “I’ve been trying for months,” Marisol admits. “I am also being held here.”

“By your own father?”

She nods.

“Why?”

“I… have disobeyed his wishes,” she manages to grit out.

I wrinkle my nose. “Well. I suppose that’s a problem that does come with having a father.”

“Sorry.”

I wave my hand. “It’s fine. Old news. More to the point, we need a way to get the hell out of here.”

Marisol shrugs. “Like what?”

I feel positively feral when I look at her.

“Can you drive one of those food trucks?”

* * *

We make our move the next day.

The guards watch their stupid telenovela. They don’t think we can do anything important. Clearly, someone’s taught them that women are not to be concerned with.

They’re clearly fucking stupid.

One of the things that Marisol and I do is put something special in their afternoon coffee. Marisol showed me the little greenhouse that’s attached to the house, and there’s something in there, taking advantage of the sweltering heat.

Aloe Vera plants.

Which make a great laxative.

We put enough in the afternoon coffee of the guards and the food delivery workers, to make them more than a bit uncomfortable. Marisol delivers the coffees, as she is always supposed to do, apparently, and she makes sure that every single one of the six men around us drinks their coffee to the fullest.

It’s not a sedative.

But…

It’s enough of a distraction.

When the last guard leaves, clutching his stomach, that’s when we make our move.

“Come on.” I grab Marisol’s hand.

She’s more than happy to comply.

We sprint for the little pickup truck connected to the kitchen via a doorway. The door is still open, and we book it straight through.

Climbing in the truck, Marisol starts it.