Champagne Deception (17 page)

“Calm down.  They’re all signed and dated.  I think they could make a big splash.  People like to see an artist’s early work.”

“Okay, but let’s save it for another time.  This isn’t the last event we’ll ever host, although it might be if we don’t get upstairs and start setting up!  It’s almost 7:30, Coretta!” He shoved his wrist in her face, forcing her to look at the time.

She exhaled heavily.  “If you hadn’t moved them, I would have found them right away and we wouldn’t be rushing!  Okay, let’s just go upstairs.”

She flounced away from him with
a sulky attitude in her step.  Hands tightly at his sides, he followed her, unable to believe that they had argued minutes before the commencement of such a long-awaited event.  Upstairs, they immediately parted ways as Lorenzo went to chat with his brother and Coretta returned to the lighthearted company of Mario and Graziana.  Outside, the sun was rapidly vanishing, paving the way for a black and moonless sky.  An unseasonable chill pervaded the air and gusted into the cellar.

*****

Coretta put the finishing touches on a tray of Italian hors d’oeuvres set on a table lined with bottles of the finest champagne.  It was eight o’clock precisely, and the gallery was finally about to open its doors to introduce her paintings to the world.  Swallowing a breath of nervousness, Coretta smoothed the fabric of her scarlet cocktail dress while listlessly twirling her dark, shoulder length hair.  It was time to open the doors to the public; she couldn’t wait another minute longer.

With trembling fingers, she unlocked the doors and opened them wide for the avid art lovers who stood lined up in the balmy
spring air.  Immediately, they pushed through the doors, clamoring to reach the walls and place early bids on her best paintings.  Coretta smiled in stark disbelief; this kind of fame and popularity were so new to her. She mused how a few months ago she couldn’t even get an art dealer to look at one of her paintings, and now here she was with a gallery opening devoted to her work.  Discreetly, she pinched her forearm, giggling silently as she observed the customers fight over her paintings.

From the darkest corner of the gallery, Coretta
continued to watch in awe as the elegant art lovers fussed over her labors of love. Emerging from the shadows and strolling over to the buffet table for a glass of champagne, Coretta scanned the room for Lorenzo.  That quarrel had been so stupid.  She shouldn’t have blown a fuse just because he misplaced a few of her paintings.  And maybe it hadn’t even been him who misplaced them.  In the frenetic commotion of recent days, maybe she was the one to blame.

Before she could reach the buffet table, a strident beeping assaulted the hushed atmosphere of the gallery as the lights simultaneously dimmed to black.  The recently opened gallery contained no back-up generator, and the entire space was immediatel
y as dark as the moonless spring sky.

Groping in the blackness, Coretta bumped her knee against a metal table and squealed with pain as the group on the other side of the room became agitated.  The sounds of bodies bumping into each other and glasses crashing to the ground elicited a scream from one woman and grumblings in Italian from several of the other guests.

Coretta spoke up and addressed the crowd in her most authoritative voice: “I apologize for this inconvenience.  Apparently, there has been some sort of electrical failure that has caused a blackout.  I would advise you to take out your cell phones and use the lights from those devices until I can find some candles.  A candlelit art reception, not bad, right?” She spoke lightheartedly, trying to allay the concerns of her guests.

As a handful of people dug into their pockets for their cell phones, Coretta felt a body press against her backside.  “Excuse me,” she murmured to whomever had collided with her.  The moment she spoke, a gloved hand smacked against her face and covered her mouth while a menacing arm pressed into her belly and knocked the wind out of her.  Gasping for air, she wriggled in the death-grip of the gloved man, frantically biting on his covered hand to get him to release her.  As her teeth sank into the thick fabric, his grasp tightened even more around her waist until she thought her ribs would shatter.

Roughly, the man dragged her backwards towards the darker recesses of the gallery.  Lighting the way with a tiny flashlight clenched between his teeth, he pushed Coretta down the stairs into the cellar.

Sliding down the stairs uncontrollably, Coretta reached in vain for the banister, which was obscured in the darkness.  Tumbling rapidly to the bottom step, she landed roughly on her buttocks.  Immediately, she staggered to her feet, wiping dust and grime from her clothing.  She sucked in her breath to avoid inhaling the air in the cellar that reeked of mold and putridness.  From a few feet away, a man’s labored breathing shattered the silence in the cellar.  His footsteps pounded down the stairs.

Wildly, her mind raced, as she bumped into boxes and furniture, trying
desperately to find the exit.  She needed to escape this unknown assailant who had tried to push her to her death down the stairs.  Crippled by the utter blackness of the room, she slammed into the wall, bumping her forehead painfully.  Ignoring the ache that instantly exploded in her head, Coretta ran blindly, panicking as the heavy footsteps edged closer.  She dared to look behind her and saw that the assailant was grasping a flashlight between his teeth.  From that slight illumination, she could discern that he was wearing a dark ski mask and thickly padded clothing that were grossly out of place on the May night.

She backed away from him, taking advantage of the small circle of light that expanded across the room. 
She had only been down to the cellar a few times, and for the life of her, could not remember where the exit was.  All she knew was that she was underground in the middle of a massive blackout being hunted by a violent stranger in a mask.  The sensation of blood running cold through her veins chilled her from head to toe.  Then, she felt all the blood drain from her face, making her skin go cold and clammy as the masked man lunged forward and placed a gloved hand around her neck.

Unable to scream or move, Coretta went limp, hoping to appease the maniac with her cooperation.  Running from him had only
incited his anger, and she did not want to try any monkey business with his hand so precariously placed at the temple of her life pulse.  But his grip did not relax.  Instead, he slapped her viciously across the face as she winced and her whole body started shaking.

“Who are you?  Why are you doing this to me?” She asked in a violently trembling voice.

He made no reply.  The only sounds were his harsh breathing and the clatter of feet upstairs.  Surely, someone would notice that the reception’s hostess was missing.  Even if the lights were still out, her disappearance would have to be obvious.  And Lorenzo would search for her…

She flinched as the man struck her again before squeezing her waist and pushing her towards the exit.  Keeping a vice grip on her body, he shoved her through the door until they were both standing outside.  He held her tightly as he forced her up the stairs, following closely behind.  She tripped up the stairs as one of her high heels fell off her foot and tumbled down to the entrance of the cellar.  Hobbling unevenly on one foot, she reached the top of the stairs.  If he would just loosen his grip for one second, she could take her other shoe off and run in stockings back to the gallery. 
Back to safety.  But his hold on her only tightened as he dragged her towards a dark sedan, parked carelessly between the lines.

He pushed her against the vehicle, retrieving
a lasso of rope from his pocket.  Swiftly, he secured her arms behind her back and tied her wrists roughly with the coarse rope.  As she felt him restrain her, she let out an instinctive scream that pierced the mild air.  He made no verbal response but grunted inhumanly, instantly shoving a foul-smelling rag into her mouth so she couldn’t make any more noise.  He pushed her into the backseat of the car, quickly fastening her ankles with the rope.  Locking the back doors, he rushed around to the front, furiously starting the engine and driving jaggedly out of the parking lot.

*****

“That scream!  That was Coretta!  Oh my God, where is she?” Lorenzo cried to no one in particular as the guests still moved around chaotically in the semi-darkness.

The lights had only been out for a few minutes, but it had all happened so fast.  He had been initially unable to locate Coretta after she instructed the guests to use their cell phones as lights, but he hadn’t thought anything of it.  How could he have let her out of his sight?  These thoughts hammered him as he ran out the gallery’s front door.  From the adjacent parking lot, the distinct sound of a car engine caught his attention.  Blinking, he watched as a dark sedan raced out of the parking lot.  In his gut, he knew Coretta was in that car and had been kidnapped.  The car had fled too fast for him to note a license plate, but that wouldn’t stop him from finding her.  In a flash he recalled the near fatal collision on the highway when a sedan had swerved mere inches from his body.  Deep in the pit of his gut, he knew this was the same car, but he didn’t have a clue who was driving it.

Without a helmet, Lorenzo climbed onto his
motor scooter, cursing under his breath when the ignition didn’t start right away.  Three tries and the scooter finally shifted into action as Lorenzo took off in the direction where the mysterious sedan had been heading.

*****

In the backseat, Coretta stayed as still as possible, fearing that the kidna
pper’s next move could be to stuff her in the trunk.  The possibilities of what fate could await her were too terrible to contemplate.  Instead, she looked out the window, memorizing every road and landmark they passed.  For some odd reason, the assailant had not blindfolded her.  Perhaps there just hadn’t been enough time because he had gagged and bound her from every other angle.

He hadn’t uttered a syllable since abducting her, and his silence was more terrifying than any verbal assault would have been. 
Just speak
, she thought urgently. 
I need to hear your voice
. 
At least then I’ll know you’re human and not some monster. 
But he was a monster, she realized.  Whoever was doing this to her was definitely a fearsome creature.

The car moved at breakneck speed, swerving in all directions and climbing carelessly over curbsides.  As the rag made her mouth go dry, she battled with herself not to become ill. 
Her lungs felt tight and strained as she took in short breaths through her nose.  The lack of oxygen threatened to make her fall unconscious, so she widened her eyes to stay awake.

As her fear-glazed eyes
expanded, she focused them on the man driving the car.  From her back seat vantage point, and with his face obscured by a ski mask, she couldn’t discern much about his appearance.  But something about the back of the man’s head looked familiar. Too familiar.

She strained her eyes to find some revealing clue about the man’s identity.  She gasped and choked reflexively against the gag as a curly lock of blond hair popped out from the back of the ski mask.  Shifting her gaze wildly to the driver’s thick
, football player frame, she shook convulsively.  Jonathan!  It was Jonathan!  She knew with every bone in her body that the bully who had kidnapped her was none other than her toxic ex-boyfriend. 
That’s why he hasn’t said anything.  He knows I would recognize his ugly voice!

Despite the fact that Coretta had determined the man’s identity, she felt more frightened than ever.  She hadn’t seen or spoken to Jonathan in a month.  During that short period, he had obviously lost his sanity.  He had never been physically abusive in their relationship, but that didn’t mean a thing now.  He had pushed her down the stairs, gagged and bound her, and was speeding away with her as his prisoner.  Coretta’s convulsions intensified.

She steeled herself against the tremors in her body, redirecting all her energy to the feat of staying still.  The tremors subsided, and her mind tried to devise an escape plan.  If she weren’t bound at the wrists and ankles, she could jump from the car when Jonathan stopped for an inevitable red light.  But she
was
fully bound.  And far from stopping, the car only continued to gain speed.

Abruptly, the car screeched off the road and tumbled into a ditch.  Coretta screamed against the
rag as Jonathan chuckled low under his breath in the front seat.  Did he think she wouldn’t recognize his foolish laughter?  Or did he just not care now?  She watched in abject horror as he climbed out of the car, slamming the door and making his way up the shallow ditch on hands and knees.  Coretta’s heart plummeted into her gut as she realized that he was leaving her.  Now she was alone in a ditch without the ability to move or call for help.

Tears streamed down her face as his footsteps clunked onto the pavement before disappearing down the road.  Was he going to lea
ve her here indefinitely?  She could die a slow, painful death if he never came back and no one found her.  Trying to quell her fears of the unknown, she focused her thoughts on Lorenzo.  Darling Lorenzo.  She wasn’t in this ditch right now.  No, she was on Lorenzo’s terrace, peering into his emerald eyes, and sipping champagne…