Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

"Oh my God, Tom Cruise is such a heartless bastard," Jessica said, tossing the newspaper aside. "It's hard to imagine a father cutting off his own daughter like that, just because of his cult's rules? This is terrifying!"

"He's always been like that—completely brainwashed by Scientology. When I divorced him, it was such a relief," Nicole replied, pulling her three-year-old son, Connor, from under the table.

The little boy giggled, arms outstretched. "Mommy, hug!"

"Oh, you adorable little rascal, sweet as pie," Jessica cooed, scooping him up before Nicole could, planting kisses on his chubby cheeks.

"Who's this little handsome guy? Mwah!"

"Who's this little handsome guy? Mwah!"

"Who's this little handsome guy? Mwah!"

"Hey, that's enough—your spit's all over his face," Nicole grumbled.

Jessica laughed. "He's so cute; he'll be a heartthrob when he grows up. I'm just getting him used to it."

Then, curiously: "By the way, when I got home last night, Martin rushed out, saying he was heading to Italy. Didn't get a chance to ask—what's he doing there?"

"Something about a friend's family in trouble. He went to help," Nicole said.

"A friend's family? Who?"

"I don't know."

…

Martin's hasty trip to Italy was indeed for Vanessa Hessler.

The previous night, she'd been kidnapped. Martin's bodyguards couldn't stop the abductors but, during the getaway, slapped a tracker on the rear bumper of their van amid the chaos.

They'd trailed her ever since, reporting back to Martin.

He'd promised Mutassim to protect Vanessa—no backing out now.

So, Martin flew to Italy himself.

…

The van sped five hours from Milan to a villa at the foot of the Alps.

Vanessa, blindfolded, was hauled out, struggling futilely.

An hour later, her blindfold was yanked off. She blinked against the light, taking in her surroundings: a basement-like space, windowless, musty, with junk piled in the corner. A single overhead lamp swayed slightly, recently turned on.

Before her stood four masked men, eyeing her intently.

"Who are you? Money? I'll pay—just don't hurt me," Vanessa said, steadying her voice.

The men exchanged glances, silent.

One stepped forward, hand diving into her blouse from the collar.

Vanessa gasped, twisting instinctively, but bound to a chair, she couldn't escape.

Another grabbed his wrist. "Idiot, this is the client's prize. What the hell? Don't you want the rest of your pay?"

Vanessa's composure cracked. As a beautiful woman, she knew her fate if she stayed with these men.

"No, don't hurt me. I'll give you more money—more than they're paying."

The leader hesitated, but the groping man's greed won. "Boss, look—"

"Shut it. We keep our word. Wait for the client."

He pulled his men aside, sternly warning, "Listen up, you fuckers—no funny business. Our employer isn't someone to cross."

Over an hour later, footsteps echoed overhead.

They grew closer.

The door above creaked open.

Vanessa twisted, seeing a short, middle-aged man descending the stairs.

"Giuseppe! It's you!"

Giuseppe LaRocca, 49, a notorious Milanese jeweler, had once tried to coerce Vanessa into an affair under the guise of film investment, only to be savagely beaten by Mutassim.

Terrified of Mutassim, Giuseppe had backed off, steering clear.

Until now.

"Heh heh heh, that's right, Vanessa. You didn't expect this, did you? In the end, you're mine." Giuseppe's laugh was sinister as he approached.

Vanessa paled. "What do you want?"

"Heh, what do I want? I once wanted you as my mistress. Now, you'll be my slave."

"I'll sue you! I'll ruin you!" Vanessa cried.

"Sue me? You think you'll ever leave? Even if you do, I'm a respected businessman. Your protector's dead. Who'll the law side with—you or me?"

"You bastard."

"Thanks for the compliment. Let's see how a bastard like you tastes."

Giuseppe reached for her.

The leader interrupted. "Sir, about the remaining payment…"

Giuseppe, forgetting the men, snarled, "What's the rush? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Sorry, boss, but our job's done. Whatever you do next, we don't want to see or hear. Pay us, and we're gone."

Vanessa seized the moment. "No, don't leave! Save me—I'll pay you more!"

The leader wavered, but loyalty to Giuseppe held.

Slap! Giuseppe struck Vanessa. "Shut up, slut."

To the men: "Let's go upstairs. I'll pay you."

"Cash," the leader said.

"Yes, cash."