Ruthless Captor: A Mafia Romance (Corrupt Minds Book 3)

by Camille Alexander

  “I may still do just that. You're not out of the woods yet. So don’t run off that smartmouth of yours, or you’ll wish I had killed you last night.”

  I was tired of being scared, and I’d cried enough to fill up a bucket. I was done. I glowered at him with such hate that I fully expected his head to explode and shatter into a thousand pieces. I was even more livid when he looked amused. The asshole was enjoying my frustration. What was he? A sadist?

  “Well, kill me or feed me. But decide fast because I’m bloody starving.”

  “You may want to get rid of that before I leave.” He pointed to the jug and I could have sworn I blushed.

  He left the room and closed the door. I was astounded when he tied only one hand to the bed. The thrill of being able to move was an almost spiritual experience.

  Chapter Five

  GIANI

  Seeing her naked body in the light of day made me squirm in my seat. I tried not to show it, but my cock was crowing, again. Her breasts were perfectly round and full, her pink nipples erect from the chill in the air. Her ass was a perfect peach, and when she turned to me while naked, I saw her pussy and almost choked on my tongue. Fuck, this woman was perfect. Why couldn’t she be an unattractive mob daughter with a double chin and hair like straw? Did she have to be such a goddess?

  I smiled inwardly when she got all feisty. She was a cute pain in the ass. I still hadn’t decided what to do with her, so I thought I’d mull it over. What I did know was that I couldn't keep hooking up with blondes with big tits in nightclubs every time I thought of her pussy.

  I found her name on social media. Celina. The name suited her; she did feel like heaven to the touch. Pity her mouth was just south of heaven, but who was I to criticize? I was no angel. She had a Pisano temperament; she probably couldn’t help it.

  I was fully prepared to shoot her the night before. It would be the most sensible thing to do. My mind was telling me one thing, and my dick was telling me the opposite. Story of my life. It wasn’t too late to go through with it, but I wasn’t so sure that my finger would pull the trigger. I called down to the deli and ordered a few bagels. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down to watch the news.

  I wished I hadn’t. The news was full of reports of a very successful businessman’s daughter who was kidnapped. I flipped through a few channels; all of them ran the same story. The shit was about to hit the fan, and I needed help.

  I couldn't involve Vinny, so I called Tony. He wasn’t one to judge.

  “Tony, I got a problem. Can you meet me at the deli in an hour?”

  “Sure. I have a feeling I know what it’s about.”

  Never could pull the wool over Tony’s eyes. We’d been through too much together on the streets.

  When the bagels were delivered, I took two to Celina and placed them down on the nightstand where she could reach them. Without saying a word, I put down a clean jug with water and left the room.

  ***

  GIANI

  The breakfast rush at the deli had come and gone. I was grateful that we had a quiet place to talk. Tony sat across from me. He had a kind face—looked more like a teacher than a gangster, an English teacher with countless schoolgirls crushing on him. His blond hair was cut short and his horn-rimmed glasses added at least ten points to his perceived IQ. He was sharp. His clear, light blue eyes mirrored the wisdom of an old soul.

  “So, you’ve got a problem? I don’t suppose it has anything to do with the daughter of a certain gangster whose hitman you dusted.” Tony took a sip of his hot chocolate while he peered at me over his glasses.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “The ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look you’ve had since you walked in here.”

  “Tony, I’m in a world of trouble.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  “I tried to, but no. Now, I don’t know what to do with her.”

  Tony wasn’t an impulsive guy. He had the patience of Job, and when it came to sticky situations, he took his time in thinking it through. I could almost see the cogs turning over inside his head. Not that I was a dunce by any stretch of the imagination; in fact, my principal used to crap all over me because, as she used to put it, “Giani, you have far too great an IQ to be acting like such a fool.” Those sorts of comments usually escaped her wise lips as I stood in her office, having metered out punishment to a fellow student. As I grew older, I learned the hard way that keeping your cool got you a lot further in life—pity my father never cottoned on.

  “What happened?”

  “I planned on hitting the mark in his apartment, but he got a call from someone and rushed out as I got there. He took me by surprise and sprinted down the passage like a jackrabbit. I caught up with him on the last staircase where he slipped and fell. He hit the tar with a thud but kept on running to his car, so I put two into his back. The Pisano woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I couldn’t afford to have a witness. I’m not in the habit of killing innocent people willy nilly, so I knocked her out to find out what exactly she’d seen. Now, I’ve dug an even deeper hole for myself, it seems.”

  “What’s she like?” Tony was still calm and collected.

  “She’s a Pisano! She’s a feisty one, with a mouth on her, but the worst part is that she’s a knockout. If she were anyone else, I’d screw her brains out.”

  “She’s a bright cookie, too, from what I hear. She has her own finance and management company.”

  “Great. Brains and gorgeous tits. That’s all I need.”

  Tony chuckled, and as he did, I smiled ruefully.

  “This sounds a little like Stockholm Syndrome in reverse, Giani.” Tony chuckled. But then, he got serious again. “You have to make a decision either way. You can’t keep her locked up in your apartment forever. You don’t have too many options here, G. You either kill her or set her free; either way, you’re fucked.”

  “Remind me again why I asked for your advice?” I pulled my fingers through my hair, then cradled my head between my forearms.

  “I think you knew what you had to do before you called me, Giani. You’re just looking for affirmation.”

  And there it was—the ugly truth. He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t have the stomach for this one.

  “Does Vinny know?” Tony asked.

  “No, you’re the only one I’ve told.”

  “Good, it’s better that way. The more people know the more likely the secret will come out. I’ll do a bit of digging and see if the Pisano’s have any knowledge of the hit and the kidnapper. But apart from that, there isn’t much I can do. You’re going to have to figure this one out by yourself. Sorry, G.”

  “That’s what I get for being a fucking knight on a white horse, I guess.”

  “No one’s as surprised as I am, Giani. Looks like you’re getting soft. A pretty girl will do that to a man.”

  ***

  CELINA

  The chain that tied me to the bed was long enough for me to get to the bathroom and back. Thank God! I was tired of wetting myself in an effort to fill up a pitcher. Apart from seriously pissed, I was bored as hell. There was a magazine on the nightstand, but now was not the time to take up origami. Maybe I could fold the cover into a paper jet, like we used to do as kids, and throw the pointy end at his eye. Only a bored abductee could think of such stupid shit. I had to focus on getting away from my abductor, not making imaginary paper jets, for fuck’s sake.

  He had an advantage over me—he knew who I was. Was he silent about his identity because he was contemplating letting me go? I guessed I’d find that out the next time we spoke. If he introduced himself to me, I’d say my Hail Mary’s. I wondered how such a beautiful man could be so cruel. If we’d met under different circumstances, I would be happy to be in his strong arms, my hands holding onto his tight ass while he … You really need to get laid more often, Celina.

  The hunger was making me crazy but not half as much as the memory of his fingers inside my sex and his tongu
e in my mouth. Surely Stockholm Syndrome developed over time; was I just a quick study, or desperate for a real man to take me?

  My feelings towards Salvatore were strained from the start. He was handsome enough, but he needed constant reinforcement. At first, I thought it was because his ex had cheated on him, or so he said. Turned out she couldn’t wait to get away from him. I never understood why women were jealous of their men’s exes. We could learn a lot about a guy from an ex and possibly spare ourselves a whole lot of heartache in the process.

  Sex with Salvatore was planned; the word “spontaneity” never made it into his toolbox of crazy sex tricks. He wasn’t a bad lover, just not an exciting one. I always dreamed of a lover taking me roughly, driving hard into me until I lost all control in an orgasm so epic, that it would be classed as illegal in most states. It went without saying that I would choose such a manly creature, cunningly “allowing” him to shag me senseless. If he were an asshole rapist, I’d break off his pecker and hand it back to him, with condolences.

  The window was too far away from the bed, so I couldn’t go over to it and peer out. Not that it would do me much good as it was facing a brick wall, but just the thought of sunlight and blue skies made me soften. His eyes were so big and blue; my captor’s, not my ex’s. His face was perfect symmetry: a strong nose, full lips, strong jawline, and his hands were exquisite, intimate. I was a sucker for a good pair of hands and feet. He was the quintessential tough guy with pretty boy looks.

  There I was, distracting myself with salacious thoughts, while somewhere out there, the man in charge of my fate was mulling over his decision to either kill me or set me free. The silence was deafening.

  ***

  GIANI

  I thought about what Tony said. I wasn’t getting soft. I just didn’t see the point of killing someone unless I had to. If I killed Celina merely because she was a Pisano, then I’d be forced to wipe out entire families. And that made no sense. I didn’t advocate the killing of anyone except thugs who had it coming. I would wait to hear from Tony before I made any life-altering decisions about Celina. In the meantime, I would keep my head down and my zipper tightly shut.

  Mrs. Palmer was shuffling down the passage towards me as I got off the elevator. She was a sweet enough old lady, but she talked the hind leg off a donkey. A proud mother and grandmother, she carried a bag big enough for a virtual Rolodex of family photos. Clearly, the spoiled little shits had better things to do than visit their mother. In all the time I’d lived at my new digs, I never once saw anyone visiting her. Ungrateful little assholes. If I had a mother who cared for me, I’d make an effort.

  It was around two when I sat down on my bed and switched the TV on in my room. I was exhausted from the mental gymnastics, and the shit hadn’t even started yet. I wondered what Celina was doing down the hall. Was she hungry? Bored? Pissed? Horny? I was afraid that if I finished what she’d started the night before, there’d be no coming back. Why was this such a difficult decision? She was a Pisano who saw me kill one of her family’s men. She sure as hell wouldn’t leave and pretend that she never saw or heard anything. She knew my face, and it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to find me. No! She couldn't know who I was before I figured out what her family knew.

  Lying on my bed thinking of the feisty beauty next door was more than I could handle. I decided to rather get up and find out what she was up to. Perhaps her ferocious tongue would rip me from my childish obsession with her pussy and restore some semblance of reality to my fucked up mind.

  She was silent on the other side of the locked door. I had visions of opening the door and facing the business end of a side table leg she’d gnawed off. I had to remember who Celina was.

  “You awake in there?” I waited for an answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Go to the bathroom, and flush the toilet.” Fool me once …

  “Why?” It was a strange command, I gave her that.

  “Just do it.” Cheeky bitch.

  She didn’t answer me, but a few moments later I heard the rush of water as she pulled the lever of the toilet. I turned the lock and opened the door. She was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, her black hair cascading over her shoulders, settling on her round breasts. I noticed for the first time, a fine tattoo just above her right clavicle that read ama la vita along the shaft of a wispy feather.

  Her black eyes were alert and defiant as she waited for me to make my move. I stood looking at her, really looking, before I spoke.

  “Are you hungry?” Wow! That was profound.

  “I couldn’t face another sandwich if that’s what you’re asking. Don’t you have any food in this house?” She crossed her arms like a mother scolding her child for leaving crumbs on the kitchen counter.

  “My apologies, princess. I didn’t realize I was depriving you of vital nutrients derived from kale and other fine vegetables.” What a cheek! She was lucky I fed her at all. She was a captive, not a fucking house guest.

  “Why don’t you go buy some proper ingredients? I’ll cook us a meal that requires actual plates and cutlery.”

  “You better watch your mouth. It may get you into more trouble than you’re in already.”

  “If I have to eat another sandwich, you may as well shoot me now.”

  I tried not to laugh out loud. “Fine. Make a list and I’ll go shopping. You stay put.”

  Chapter Six

  GIANI

  I left the apartment armed with a list of ingredients and very precise instructions on which brands to avoid. I deduced from the culinary term she threw about that she knew her way around the stovetop. I was hungry too, and looked forward to a home-cooked meal—a rarity in my life.

  I passed a clothing store on my way to the grocers. Celina looked ridiculous in the sweatsuits I had lying about. Perhaps she’d be less bitchy if she felt more comfortable in clothes that fit her. The sales assistant in the women’s department was about the same size as Celina, so I asked her to pick out a few items she’d need for a “week’s holiday.” The irony hadn’t escaped me.

  With a bag full of appropriate clothes, including a few toiletries, and a small mountain of fresh ingredients, I returned to my apartment an hour later. I dropped the food bags on the kitchen counter and took the bags with clothes to Celina’s room.

  “You decent?” I shouted through the door.

  “Are you?”

  “Touché.”

  I opened the door and stood back before I entered. Celina was sitting on the edge of the bed. Flashes of the night before arrested my senses, but I pushed them aside and dropped the clothes on the bed.

  “What’s that?” She looked a little nervous.

  “Don’t worry—I’m not a pervert. It’s a few outfits and toiletries. I can’t take you seriously when you’re drowning in that sweatsuit. You’ll ruin dinner for me.”

  I removed the chain from her wrist. “Don’t make me hurt you, Celina, because I promise you this. I will kill you if I have to.”

  I dragged myself out of the bedroom while she got dressed.

  ***

  CELINA

  I emptied the contents of the bag he left onto the bed. Jeans, sweaters, sneakers, underwear, shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, a hairbrush, and a few odds and ends. I was confused. Why would he dress me in clean clothes and then clean me? This guy was an enigma. I wasn’t going to complain, though; I was tired of drowning in my current couture.

  I couldn’t resist a long warm shower. I washed my hair, shaved my legs, brushed my teeth, and picked an outfit to wear. I looked good in jeans, so I wore them. Surely he wouldn’g kill a woman draped in tight jeans. When I’d dried my hair and put on some perfume, I knocked on the door.

  The key turned in the lock before the door opened. I stepped out gingerly from my prison and looked around to find him standing just outside the door, watching my every move. I was the mouse and he, the cat, deciding on whether to toy with or kill its prey.

  “Thank you for the clothes.
” I loathed him but I had good manners.

  “You’re welcome. The kitchen’s this way.”

  He followed me as I walked slowly down the passage to the rest of the apartment. The living space was an open plan area. A spacious living room with white leather sofas and chairs with a lounge, dining space, and kitchen made for an attractive home. The kitchen was wasted on someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t cook. Brand new burners on the gas stove looked unused. The dark marble counters had likely never seen a pot or bowl, and the dishwasher still had its plastic on. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it.

  “Do you have any wine?” I hoped a drink and a home-cooked meal would make him more agreeable. It was worth a try.

  “Red okay?”

  I was stunned when he didn’t put up a fight. Why was he being so decent? I felt like a death row inmate choosing my last meal. “Uh, yeah. Red’s good.”

  “I put away the big knives, just in case you had any bright ideas. The food is over there.”

  “Where’s the fun in it if you know it’s coming?” I said in a droll voice.

  He poured red wine into a glass and put it down on the counter.

  “Thank you, ah …. Look, this isn’t working. I need to call you something. I don’t even care if you make up a name—if I’m going to have a grown-up conversation with you I need to call you something.”

  “How about, boss?”

  “Not a fucking chance. Try again.” I grimaced.

  He looked at me, amused at my little outburst. “Giani. My name’s Giani.”

  “Okay, Giani. That’s better. Now, when I want to tell you to fuck off I can say your name just in case you’re unsure of who I’m talking to. Now, you like spaghetti, or do you prefer linguini?”

  ***

  GIANI

  If she was as adept in bed as she was in the kitchen, I’d have to keep Celina alive for a little while longer. I watched as she chopped, peeled, and stirred, her tight little ass making my cock crow with lust. Whoever said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was an idiot. The way to his heart is through his dick, and Celina was moving her way firmly in the direction of my “heart.”