Owned by the mafia boss

CARMELA

I did not do well in cages.

Especially those that resembled my worst nightmares.

I stood by the leaded windows as daylight leached from the sky. A ball of anxiety throbbed inside me as night descended on the sleepy suburb. Silhouettes of homes disappeared, melting into pitch-black nothingness. Warmth sapped from my bones as the evening mist dissolved the taillights from the last departing guests.

What would he do when he returned?

Clues presented themselves in the bedroom’s strange décor. Bronze rings stuck out from the four-poster bed. A cast-iron lattice comprised the headboard. A hook screwed into the ceiling beam. I opened his walk-in closet. Steel boxes lined the top shelf-were they gun safes? I swept aside the rack of bespoke suits, heart pounding when my fingers touched a bundle of nylon rope. Beside it sat a leather blindfold.

My breathing hitched.

We were so incompatible.

I’d never known this side of him. Michael was supposed to be one of the good ones. The gossip surrounding the newly minted consigliere never mentioned the room with sex toys. This bondage crap pushed my boundaries to their limit.

The things I will do to you.

Jesus, he wasn’t kidding.

Several uncomfortable minutes passed with a walnut-sized lump lodged in my throat. I pictured Michael fisting my hair, bending me over the mattress. A violent shiver ran down my spine.

Footsteps tapped outside.

Oh shit.

I held my breath as the door creaked. A shadow seemed to melt inside.

The light stroked Michael’s silhouette with warm colors, illuminating alluring details-a lean form rippling with muscle, the sharp edges defining his angular cheeks, the elegant slope of his nose, and his hooded eyes-lately, always narrowed.

Calculating.

He’d discarded the jacket. The untucked T-shirt combined with his swagger would’ve made James Dean proud. His irises were a vibrant shade of amber, and as tempting as whiskey on a chilly evening. Black stubble covered his jaw and chin, chiseling his angular features. Completing the look of perfection were his playful grin and the dimples shaping his face. I absorbed his every detail, as though I’d find a secret in his wrinkles that’d free me.

The urge to flatten my hand against his chest to keep him at bay was overpowering. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a decent man.”

“Carmela. Sweetheart.” He brushed his knuckles against my frozen cheek. “I was nice to you because I wanted to get laid. You’re easy to manipulate, and I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

Michael looked bored with the turn in conversation. “I’ll be one hundred percent real with you starting now, except around my children.”

“Have you reconsidered?”

Please say yes.

“No. Cold feet?”

“I’m no coward. I just don’t like to be locked in a freak show for hours.”

“Freak show?”

He followed my gaze to the bronze rings, the ceiling hook, and the walk-in closet filled with rope. He lifted his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t tie you up on our first night together.”

“I didn’t realize you were into ropes. Michael, that is…intense.”

Before this, I would’ve attached a thousand different words to Michael-glib, carefree, lighthearted. Everything I’d associated with him had vanished in private.

I’d been deceived. He was a friend of the family who dropped in on Christmas with his adorable kids. The same man who cooed at my sister’s newborn had blackmailed me into an engagement.

This was Michael-unmasked.

He fixed me with a stare that heated my blood. “Intense is how I like it.”

“So you’re a sadist.”

“I’m many things, Carmela.”

“Clearly. Why do you do it?”

“Having a woman at my mercy makes my cock hard.” He was so flippant and crass, far from the gentleman who’d kissed my knuckles.

“I’ll never look at you the same again.”

“But you are looking at me.”

As if my attention could’ve wandered with him in the room. Michael used to be a bright spot in a dark universe.

“I never gave you the time of day for a reason.” My throat tightened when his smile grew. “Maybe you should’ve taken a hint.”

“That you wanted to be chased?”

“I wasn’t interested because I’m not attracted to you.”

“That’s why you got all dolled up and offered yourself as a sex slave.” Michael smiled, and gooseflesh pricked my arms. “Never thought you’d do that. It’ll be a great story to tell the grandchildren.”

Whoa.

“Michael, you need to dial back your expectations. When I fantasize about sex, it’s without leather cuffs.” Judging from Michael’s walk-in closet, he was the least vanilla guy on the fucking planet. “You’ll be happier with someone else.”

“I don’t care about my happiness.” He bulldozed past that alarming statement and adopted a chastising tone. “Shouldn’t you have higher priorities than my sex life?”

“It’s all I can think of.”

He tapped my chin. “Well, get your mind out of the gutter. We have rules to discuss.”

“Rules?”

“Yes, hon. Rules. Did you believe I’d let you run amok where my kids live and sleep?”

He still hadn’t shown evidence that Dad was alive.

“I have to see my father. You owe me proof.”

“Your dad is fine.” The glimmer in his eyes disappeared. “I give you my word.”

“Is that good for anything?”

“Why would I lie?”

Easy. “Because you enjoy screwing with people.”

“I’d rather fuck you than mess with your pretty head.”

“You’ll never touch me, especially with that bondage shit.”

“You’re sending mixed signals, Carmela.” Michael resisted when I pushed his chest. “Bringing up my kinks over and over.”

It was hard not to launch at him with everything I had. “I want to see my father!”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my decision, and I’m saying no. When the timing is right, I’ll allow a visit.”

That dug the rusted nail into my pit of rage. “Is this a sick game? Keep me in suspense about whether my father is alive?”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“You don’t want to see Ignacio. Trust me.”

So he’d been tortured.

Tears slammed into my eyes as I pictured my dad huddled in a concrete cell, gashes marring the face I loved, and God knows what else.

Hate swirled into a heated frenzy. “Whatever you want out of this marriage-you’ll never have my love.”

“But you’ll love my kids.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but I couldn’t form the words. There was plenty of room in my heart for two innocent kids, but absolutely none for Michael. Falling for a man almost killed me once. It dragged me into a pitch-black place, and I emerged with mental scars that still bled.

I’d tolerate Michael.

But love him? Never.