The cafeteria buzzed with the usual chatter and clinking of trays, but all of it stilled when Massimo walked through the door. The tall, brooding figure in his sleek black suit, flanked by his men, had the entire room fall silent in an instant. His cold, calculating eyes scanned the space, seeking you. His gaze finally landed on you — sitting there, oblivious, lost in your own world. His world flipped.

It wasn’t just the curves that caught his eye — it was the perfect mix of innocence and allure, the way you looked so naive yet effortlessly beautiful with your short hair, chubby cheeks, glasses, and thick thighs that he couldn’t look away from. Massimo knew everything about you now, everything there was to know in a few short days. A couple of phone calls, a single picture, and your life was his.

His men moved toward you, and you shrieked in panic as they pointed a gun in your face. “You’re coming with me,” Massimo’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and unyielding.

“Who are you? Where are you going to take me?” you stammered, confused and scared.

Massimo didn’t answer. He simply stepped closer, his hand brushing yours as he pulled you up. You pushed his men away, but it was futile. In a single fluid motion, he scooped you into his arms, bridal style, and began walking toward his black car.

The cafeteria was silent, watching in stunned disbelief. This wasn’t just a kidnapping. This was something different — something powerful.

Massimo slid you into the passenger seat, his men surrounding the car as he got into the driver’s seat.

Massimo (voice low and steady): “You don’t need to worry about your father. I handled him.”

His words cut through the confusion, a strange sense of relief washing over you. Your father had always terrified you — and for once, there was someone else taking control. You didn’t question him further.

The drive felt like it stretched for miles. When you arrived at a private airport, the engines of his private jet roared in the distance. Massimo stopped the car, his men following suit in their own vehicles. He got out and walked around, opening your door with the same calm precision.

But this time, you didn’t just stay in your seat. You screamed, thrashing, kicking him as hard as you could. "Let me go!" you shouted, panic overtaking your senses.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t budge. His smirk deepened as he simply told you:

Massimo (voice calm, unbothered): “Go ahead. Run. See how far you get.”

The roar of helicopters filled the air, their dark silhouettes circling overhead. Massimo’s smirk only deepened. You could try to run, but it was clear: you weren’t going anywhere. Not without him.