It had been 2 days since I was assaulted on my way to the airport and stolen away. They held a cloth up to my face, which I can only assume was soaked in chloroform, and I passed out into someone's arms, then I woke up here, in some stone-cold jail cell. I held out hope that Enzo would come to find me, but I knew it was futile, he probably didn't even realise I was missing yet.

After two days of staring at bare stone walls, I heard the click of lock in the door, and it creaked open. A huge burly man gruffled "come with me." I did as he said, worried about what may happen if I objected. I followed him up a stone spiral staircase, into a stone hallway. Everything around her was made of stone, and that made it freezing cold, or maybe I was just nervous, maybe both.

He pointed towards a large wooden door, indicating for me to go in, and so I did. On a sofa lay a man, perhaps in his sixties, and besides him were various other men and women, all younger, with concerned looks on their faces.

"Ah! Bonjour belle," the older man said, "English?" I nodded. I knew French pretty much fluently, so I knew he said 'Hello Beautiful', but I felt like I shouldn't let my captor knew I could hear what they said whenever they spoke French, it may be useful later on.

"I know you are the private surgeon of Don Lorenzo Arcaro." I nodded.

"Well, belle, I need you to..." he gestured to his stomach, which had a kitchen knife, one with a blade about the size of my middle finger, sticking out of his stomach.

"Don't you have your own..." I was puzzled.

"I am the Caïd of the Milieu, here in Françias, my name is Jean-Marc Duval, but just call me Jean. Your boss has upset me recently, so I though the least he could do is give me his personal surgeon, and looks like I needed you quicker than I thought."

"I don't know what you mean." Did Enzo just hand me over to this man? Surely not.

"I'm basically the boss of the French mafia, at war, currently, with the Italian Mafia." I nodded understandingly. "Ignore my family, they are a bunch of withering, smothering losers, also cannot speak English, luckily. Biological family, but not symbolically." He spoke some words in French and they all got up and left the room.

I noticed the tools on the coffee table, and proceeded to do what I do, and stitch this random man up.

"I have heard no talk of anyone worrying about you missing yet, within my web of connections," pondered Jean-Marc. I guess maybe Enzo didn't just hand me over, but he definitely wasn't looking for me at least. "I need to grow my alliances to help me take down Don Lorenzo Arcaro and his dumb mafia, then I can take over the drug and weapons business he has running." Ah, so Enzo was short for Lorenzo, I didn't realise.

Drug and weapons, I knew he fought people, but... I guess I never really thought about what he did, but it should've been obvious to me. The mafia aren't exactly babysitters or teachers, and they get stabbed and shot a lot.

"Tomorrow night I am holding a ball, and I hope to convince as many as I can to join me. My main target is the Russian mafia though, they are a huge crime family, perhaps the biggest and scariest in the world. You will join me." I guess I didn't really have a choice.

"I have already chosen your gown for you. Now, I don't want to turn up with a broken doll tomorrow, do I belle, at least not visibly. I will only punch you where your dress will cover it," he cackled an evil laugh, rang a bell, and in came the same burly man as before, followed by two more. They ripped my clothes, leaving only my underwear, and began beating me. The legs were completely free reign, as were kicks to the stomach, and whips to the back, causing me to feel blood trickling lightly down my back. I was then carried by one of them, as I faded out of consciousness.

Three maids came in, waking me up. I took in my surroundings. The walls were still stone, but I was not in the cell. Paintings hung from the walls, dark ones though, depicting awful murderous scenes. I was sat in a four-poster bed, with its purple curtains drawn back. One of the maids grabbed me by the hand and ushered me into the bathroom, as another one opened the curtains, letting a great light in through the window, and the other placed a grey dress on my bed.

After my shower, I noticed the three maids had left, leaving behind a bag of makeup and hair care products, and a pair of curlers. What the fuck was I doing here? When would I leave? Was I seriously getting ready for this dumb party? I guess I was. I looked at myself in the mirror, my legs dotted with black and purple bruises, my abdomen one huge bruise pretty much, and in so much pain, and my back was laden with long, angry, red whip marks. The cuts had scabbed over, and the dried blood I had just cleaned off in the shower, but there they were, in all their glory.

Jean-Marc wasn't lying when he said the dress would cover any marks of my abuse. It was a grey dress, hitting the floor, with no leg slit, so none of my bruised leg would be visible. The top of the dress had a corset, that uncomfortably pressed into my abdomen, and it was so painful, I winced every time I moved. I won't even get started on the unbearable pain I felt from my back. I wondered if the cuts might open up and bleed through the dress, I hoped to God they didn't; Jean-Marc would probably kill me. I did my makeup and hair, and sat on the bed of my bed, waiting.

After about half an hour, there was a knock on the door. I could already hear loud music and talking from in my room, which became even louder as I followed one of the maids down to the main hall. I saw Jean-Marc, talking to a group of people, and when he saw me, he gestured for me to go to him. He put his arm around my waist, squeezing tightly, knowing how much it hurt. I winced. This was his way of saying don't do anything stupid.

"Katarina, this is Mr Deshi Chen, and his beautiful wife, Mrs Kimora Chen, they are part of the Chinese Crime Syndicate, the Triad. Mr and Mrs Chen, this is my personal surgeon, Katarina Mendez," stated Jean-Marc, still squeezing my waist hard. I smiled, as much as I could with the soaring pain going through me.

"Hěn gāo xìng rén shi nî," I said (Nice to meet you.) They both looked stunned, not expecting me to address them in their native tongue. I happened to be quite good at languages, but I never showed it. I knew Mandarin, Russian, Spanish and French. No Italian unfortunately, but I wished I did, so I could understand what Enzo and his men said to eachother. Mr and Mrs Chen smiled back at me, replying in perfect Mandarin.

This unsettled Jean-Marc, who gripped even tighter, and I shut up. It was time for the meal, everyone took their seats and dug in. There were a few toasts, mostly by those part of the French Mafia, but the occasional other person too. After the final course, Jean-Marc turned to me, saying "Now we meet the head of one of the various crime groups in Russia, the biggest I may add. You best be on your best bloody behaviour or I swear, I will kill you."

We walked up to a private room, where a group of men and women sat, but before I could see their faces, Jean-Marc turned me to the champagne, and told me to start pouring.

"Don't spill a drop Belle," he called over to me from where he sat with the group, "or I will cut your fingers off and send them to Don Lorenzo Arcaro." The group began to chuckle. When I turned around with the tray of full champagne flutes, I dropped the tray.

"Dedushka? Tetya? Dyadya?" I said, confused (Grandfather? Aunt? Uncle?). Jean-Marc jumped up and slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. There was a bit of a commotion, and as I was helped up by my cousin, Lyamina, I noticed my other cousin, Vladimir, had a knife to the throat of Jean-Marc.

"You scumbags you, she's a fucking servant," he spat.

"That is where you are wrong. That is Katarina Romanovich, my granddaughter," spoke my grandfather.

"But... but... but... Reznikov, you know if I knew I wouldn't have touched her..." pleaded Jean-Marc.

"Jean-Marc, frankly, we do not care, you laid a finger on family. No one touches family," said my uncle, Lomovstev, pulling a gun out of his waistband and lifting it, shooting Jean-Marc in the head, right between his eyebrows.

I screamed when I heard the gun shot, I had never seen someone murdered. I had seen many deaths at the hospital, but never someone murdered right before my very eyes.

"Chto ty zdes' delayesh'?" asked my aunt, Irina. (What are you doing here?)

"Menya pokhitili," was all I could muster before collapsing. (I was kidnapped). My corset was way too tight and I couldn't breathe, but it was only made worse by the bruises and cuts on my back. When I came to it was about fifteen minutes later, I think. Someone had removed my dress and replaced it with more comfortable clothes. No doubt, whoever it was, having the shock of a lifetime when they saw the hundreds of bruises that lay hiding underneath.

"Moya prekrasnaya vnuchka, poydem domoy," said my grandfather. (My beautiful granddaughter, let us go home.) I nodded in agreement. Back to his house in Moscow.

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Hey guys!! Hope you like the story so far! Please vote and comment, I would love to know your thoughts!

So Katarina is part of one of the largest crime families in the world? How come she had no idea? And why was she referred to as Katarina Romanovich by her grandfather, when before she was Katarina Mendez?

I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

I also wonder what Enzo is doing....... find out in the next chapter!

Hope you are all staying safe during lockdown! <3