Mafia King (Royal Mafia Book 3)

by Bella J.

  Her lips fell open, and her eyes closed as she leaned her head back, silently urging me to squeeze harder—which I did.

  “Come,” I demanded, my own lust now a raging inferno, threatening to incinerate me. “Come, now. And I want to hear you.”

  Her entire body went rigid as moans of pure ecstasy fell from her lips. It was fucking beautiful to witness this innocent broken doll come undone. The pleasure wracked through her body, and I could feel the shivers that moved through her, her body clenching my fingers tight. I didn’t stop working her pussy, and I didn’t loosen my grip around her throat until I was fucking sure I had milked every last drop of pleasure out of her.

  Her chest rose and fell with every breath she took, sweat beading on her forehead like shiny little pearls under the dim light. Dear God, she was fucking beautiful.

  When she opened her eyes, I let go of her throat. I didn’t want to stop touching her pussy. I wanted to keep on going, to see how many orgasms I could demand out of her body. To witness the beauty of her pleasure over and over and over again. But when my gaze met hers, I sucked in a breath. The bewilderment in her eyes, the utter confusion, it slammed against my chest like a fucking wrecking ball.

  What the fuck did I do? What did I just do?

  Chapter 14

  Doe

  I had no idea what just happened to my body. My skin felt like it had been lit on fire. Every muscle, every bone shuddered while tingles of ecstasy moved up and down my spine. My mind was void of every thought and all that mattered at that moment was his touch. I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want the feeling to end. I wanted to stay there…forever.

  As the last tremors of pleasure wracked through my body, confusion warped its way into my head. Feeling pleasure instead of pain was not normal for me. Wanting a man’s touch rather than despising it was not normal for me. Nothing about what just happened was normal for a woman like me.

  I opened my eyes and looked at the man in front of me. The man whose touch made me feel more alive than I ever had before. It was shocking, strange, and mind-shattering—taking me completely by surprise. And for a moment I couldn’t find my breath as I gazed into the depths of his dark, beautiful eyes. I saw it. The wild lust and primal need. It scared and thrilled me at the same time.

  But then he pulled back, breaking eye contact, and shattering the moment. He pulled a hand through his hair, the veins in his arms bulging beneath his tanned skin. “Fuck,” he cursed, and my heart wanted to claw out of my throat.

  “Have I displeased you, sir?”

  “What? No.” He rushed over to the table and poured himself a drink before slamming it down his throat. “No. You haven’t displeased me, Doe. It’s quite the fucking opposite.”

  “Then why…why do you seem angry with me?” I stood from the bed but made no attempt to move toward him out of fear. Despite what just happened, how good his touch felt for a while, I didn’t know him. I didn’t know his triggers yet. What angered him.

  “I’m not angry, Doe. I’m just…” He wiped his palm down his face. “Jesus. I’m losing sight of the line.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What line, sir?”

  He let out a laugh. “The fucking line I’m not supposed to cross when it comes to you.” He turned then looked up at the roof before dropping his gaze to mine. “Doe, you are the embodiment of my vice. Of the cross I have to carry every goddamn day of my life. And having you here is like opening a bottle of whiskey in front of a fucking alcoholic. It’s torture.”

  Oh, God. I was causing him pain. Torturing him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” But just as I wanted to drop to my knees, to plead for forgiveness, I felt two arms wrap around me. In shock, I looked up at him, his face mere inches from mine. Suddenly, it felt like I couldn’t breathe, his touch almost electric against my skin. It was so different. Everything about him, about me, about everything surrounding us, was so different.

  Silence fell over us, and all we did was stare at each other. I felt his warm breath against my cheek, caressing my skin. I wanted to say something, but I saw the warning in his eyes, and I knew my time for speaking freely had passed.

  He traced the back of his hand down my face. “You will never fall on your knees again, Doe. Not unless I order you to. Do I make myself clear?”

  I swallowed, my mouth dry and my mind a mess. But I managed to say the words, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.”

  To my dismay, he stepped back, his arms no longer wrapped around my body. I didn’t know whether I hated it or not. Whether I wanted—needed his embrace or not. All I knew was when he turned his back on me and walked out the door, the sound of the lock echoing his exit, there was a part of me that wanted him to come back. For the first time in my life, I wanted my master to come back.

  My legs felt weak, shaky. If it wasn’t for his latest command, I would have fallen on my knees right there.

  I sucked in a breath and clutched my hands in front of my chest, glancing around the room. Earlier, I was too confused, too tired to notice anything. After Karina helped me clean up and the doctor checked my vitals again, sleep took me.

  Left to right, my gaze swept across everything around me. There was the chair he had sat in earlier, the table where the quarter of a bottle of bourbon and his glass still stood. I looked over at the door, then back to the table, and hesitantly walked toward it. With gentle fingertips, I traced circles around the rim of the glass.

  Master V used a glass almost exactly like this one. But his drink wasn’t a golden brown like the one Antonio drank. It was clear. Like water. I remembered him saying vodka when he ordered one of his housekeepers to refill his glass.

  I glanced at the bottle and read out loud, “Bourbon.” Thank God Master V preferred his slaves literate and educated. He reminded me every day how he hated stupid bimbos with tits for brains.

  “The professor tells me you’re struggling.”

  I remained silent, my gaze settled on the floor.

  “He says your writing isn’t improving.”

  I watched his shiny black shoes as he paced up and down in front of me. I wanted to scream at him, ask how I was supposed to learn when my mind was nothing but a pit of darkness with echoes of despair. My body hurt. My heart hurt. Every breath I took hurt. But he expected me to focus, to learn?

  “You know I don’t tolerate anything less than perfection. And that’s exactly the feedback I’m getting about the progress of your writing. Less. Than. Perfection.”

  My face was covered with the long, dark, dirty strands of my hair. I imagined it being a veil, something that could hide me from the monster glaring down at me from his pedestal of evil.

  Shivers spread down my spine, my skin assaulted and tormented by the cold. Another reason I couldn’t seem to get those damn letters perfectly between the lines and to distinguish the b’s from the d’s.

  “You know how I feel about you being illiterate. How I despise stupid bimbos with tits for brains. Should I see your repeated failure to excel as a way for you to defy me?”

  “No, Master.” I pulled my fingers back, my nails scratching against the cold floor as I balled my hands into fists.

  “It’s been months. The professor is convinced you should have shown a certain degree of improvement by now. He even goes so far as to suspect dyslexia. Dyslexia!”

  The rise of his cold, hard voice made me cringe. His simmering anger was starting to turn into rage. His rage meant pain for me. Tears and cries.

  “I’m sorry, Master. I will try harder.” I would do anything if it meant sparing me the consequences of his wrath. The blue bruises from the last time he made his disappointment in my learning ability known was still painted on my ribs and flanks. Did he really think I would willingly put myself in position to deserve punishment?

  His pacing stopped, and for a few seconds, there was only silence…until I heard the crack of a whip as it landed on the cement floor. Tears already burned my eyes, my mind searching for words I could say in a bid
for him to show me just the smallest amount of mercy.

  “I promise I will try harder. I will not disappoint you, Master.” A tear escaped and fell to the floor, staining the cold cement with my fear and heartache.

  Then he started to pace again, another crack of the whip. I shuddered. I cried. My skin was already burning with anticipatory pain while my stomach twisted into painful knots of dread.

  “Hold out your hands.”

  “Please. Please. I’ll do better.” I couldn’t stop pleading. I didn’t want to be punished.

  “Hold out your hands.”

  Cries ripped through me, my tears allowing the dark spot on the cement to grow. “Please—”

  The whip sliced through the air, the sound snapping right next to me as it landed on the ground. “Hold out your hands!” He yelled so loud, so abruptly, I relieved myself as fright possessed every muscle in my body. The warmth spread down my thighs, my knees, pooling around my pathetic frame as I remained on my hands and knees on the floor. The humiliation. The pain. The excruciating torture that was my existence threatened to tear my mind apart.

  With shaky hands and a weeping soul, I held out my hands, keeping my head down. When the first lash struck, the thin leather of the whip sliced across the skin covering my knuckles. I cried out, but another strike broke the sound of my scream. It took every ounce of strength not to pull my hands back. To not try and protect myself from the pain.

  Lash, after lash, after lash, Master V continued to strike my hands. The searing pain moved through my wrists into my upper arms, my strength withering with every hit. My fingers felt like they were being cut straight through the bone, the shocks of pain slamming against my fingertips.

  Lash, after lash, after lash.

  When I opened my eyes and looked down at the cement floor, I saw my blood join my tears, creating a picture of absolute misery and agony.

  That day Master V mutilated my hands, the slice of his whip causing cuts so deep one could see the bone. And after he was done, he forced me to brace myself on my wounded hands while he defiled my body with deep, painful, torturous thrusts. But not before he gagged me, telling me that he was sick of hearing my cries.

  With torn skin on my hands and a gag in my mouth forcing me to endure my pain in silence, Master V continued to torture my body for what seemed like hours.

  That night he beat and raped me into being the professor’s best and brightest student.

  A tear fell on the top of my hand, and I stared down at the white scars that still marred my skin. It happened a long time ago, long enough for the scars to have faded. But it was still there. It was there to remind me that nothing but perfection was acceptable.

  The lock on the door clicked and I hastily placed the glass down. I turned to see Karina standing by the door with a tray in her hands.

  “You’re up.” She smiled. “I hope you slept well.”

  I shifted uncomfortably as I clutched my hands together.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m…I know you’re my new master’s sister, but I’ve never learned the right way to address…someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” She stifled a laugh. “You can call me Karina. There’s really no need to be formal with me, Doe. I told you the other night that you don’t have to be afraid here. Okay?”

  I nodded, my fingers nervously twining together.

  Karina placed the tray down on the table and noticed the bottle of bourbon. “I see your master has been here.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and I had to wonder why. “Master,” she scoffed as if the word was completely absurd to her. “Here.” She lifted the silver dome from the tray. “The doctor said you’ll be able to eat now, but suggested that we start with something light since we’re not sure…well,” her voice grew soft, sympathetic, “we’re not sure what type of food you’re used to eating.”

  I glanced down at the bowl, pieces with an array of colors mixed together.

  Karina picked it up and held it out to me. “I thought a simple fruit salad would be a great way to start you off on a healthy diet.” The smile she gave me was warm, kind—exactly the opposite of what I was used to. And for the first time, there were two words I wanted to say—not because it was expected of me, or because I would be punished if I didn’t, but because I truly wanted to say it.

  “Thank you.”

  Another smile. “You’re welcome, Doe. Come, sit down. Eat.”

  As I took a seat and stared at the bowl in front of me, Karina walked around the room. “I’ll have to talk to my brother about this. Now that you’re well again, I see no reason for you to stay in this room, all hidden and locked away.”

  I looked up at her. “You will give me another room?”

  “Yup.” She turned to face me. “And I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you choose the room you want. How does that sound?”

  I swallowed hard. I couldn’t understand why she was so kind to me. What I did to deserve it. The smile on her face faded while her eyes turned from happy to sad.

  “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, Doe. I can only imagine the kind of horrors you’ve suffered, and no one deserves that.” She walked closer, clutching her hands in front of her. “I know this must all seem strange to you. A new place, all the new faces. But I promise you that no one will ever hurt you again.”

  My gaze dropped to my lap. “He made the same promise.”

  “Who did?”

  “Your brother. He promised that Master V will never hurt me again.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  I shrugged. “Promises, lies, it’s all the same to me.”

  “Doe, I know my brother can sometimes be a bit…unsympathetic. And God knows he and I, we have our fair share of differences. But he’s a good man beneath that hard exterior he flaunts so well. And one thing I know about him, he always keeps a promise.”

  I struggled against threatening tears. My heart and my head were battling against each other. My heart wanted so much to believe the good in the world had finally found me. But my heart told me not to let my guard down, not to hope. Hope had the power to destroy everything.

  “Anyway,” she clapped her hands together, “you eat and enjoy. I had some clothes sent over from the boutique for you. I’ll go get them.” She glanced around the room one more time. “And I’ll see what I can do to get you out of this goddamn prison.”

  She smiled at me before turning and walking out the door.

  My mind was reeling. I didn’t know how to cope with all the smiles and kindness. It was completely foreign to me, and I had no clue what to make of it.

  The bowl of fruit remained untouched in front of me. My stomach grumbled. Hunger was something I knew too well. I also knew never to eat unless my master had commanded it. And even though Karina told me that I had nothing to fear, that I should eat, I couldn’t. I wanted to. I wanted to take the spoon and eat every last piece of fruit in the bowl. To taste the different flavors of all the different colors. But I couldn’t.

  Tears slipped down my cheeks. My most basic instinct to eat when hungry was completely warped. It was beaten into submission just like I was. No matter how much I wanted to eat, I couldn’t rewire my mind to do so because…he didn’t give me permission.

  Chapter 15

  Antonio

  Lucio tossed the file in front of me. “This is everything we got on this Vadik Volkof fuck.”

  I nodded. “The girl?”

  “We took care of it.”

  “Good.” The last thing we needed was a corpse lying around for the feds to find and link to us.

  Dante shook his head. “Still can’t believe the fuckers shot her right in the fucking open for the world to see.”

  Lorik leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I don’t think these Russian sons of bitches care about who sees and who doesn’t.”

  I picked up the file and opened it. “What did we find?”

  Lucio took a seat at the other side of my desk. “Va
dik Volkof, born in Perm, Russia, but owns multiple estates around Moscow. Billionaire who—according to the world—makes his money through his power engineering company inherited from his dead grandfather. ”

  I cocked a brow. “According to the world?”

  Lucio rubbed one hand around his fist. “His company makes millions, but he earns his true wealth by dealing in human trafficking.”

  I grabbed a picture of the ugly motherfucker and closed the file while staring at the photo. Light hair. Middle-aged face. Super evil fucker.

  “Basically,” Lucio shrugged, “if there was ever anyone we didn’t want to go up against, this fucker is it.”

  “Did we find anything about Doe?”

  “Nothing.” Lucio shifted in his seat. “There’s no link to Vadik that I can find. In fact, according to the world, this girl doesn’t exist.”

  I tossed the picture on my desk. “Well, she’s important enough for him to want her back.”

  “Is that an option?” Lorik stared at me questioningly.

  “Is what an option?”

  “Giving her back?”

  “You’re kidding, right?

  “I dunno, man. If this fucker is going to go around town killing people, I don’t think we have much of a choice in the matter.”

  “It’s not an option,” I said with finality then turned my attention to Lucio. “Do you know where they’re hiding?”

  “No idea. We ran the plates of the vehicles caught on the security camera, but they’re fake.”

  “Of course, they are.” I sighed. “You took care of that, right? The security footage?”

  “I’m going to take that question as a fucking insult, cous.”

  Dante got up from his seat and walked to the window. I knew he was staring at Rafe and Layla playing outside in the garden. I also knew how torn he felt. Torn between his loyalty toward our family, and the love for his own. Layla and Rafe changed his life completely. And understandably so. God knew I fell in love with my little nephew, his innocent little face fueling my need to protect what was ours. Right now, they were all in danger. I realized that when I witnessed these Russian fuckers put a bullet in the waitress’s skull.