Her heart-shaped face is red, and her green eyes are puffy from crying. That raven hair of hers is a tangled damp mess. Still, she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Beautiful and all-fucking-mine.
“Get in,” I order.
She merely shakes her head. I stare down at her, knowing full well I’ll never be able to hurt her like I’ve hurt others who disobey me, she is the only person who will ever have my mercy. Though there are other ways of disciplining her.
Pinching her chin gently between two fingers, I force her not only to hear the words I’m saying but also for her to see me speak them.
“Do it, or I do it for you, and believe me, you don’t want me to do it.”
Her emerald eyes widen with fear, and she must be able to hear the threat in my voice because her body starts shaking furiously. Pulling away, she reluctantly climbs into the car, sliding across the backseat, going to the spot furthest away. There is ample room between us, and I decide to let her have this small space, giving her a sense of control since I just took most of that away from her. I should probably feel bad about how I ripped her from her father’s hands, uprooted her without warning from the only home she’s ever known.
A good man would feel terrible, but the truth is I’m too selfish to feel any remorse. All I feel is a sense of accomplishment. I’ve waited for a long time, watching as the Romero family struggled to stay afloat.
“Where are we going?” Elena surprises me with her meek voice, and I look over at her. She’s all doe eyes and innocence. Breaking her will be a crushing blow to her father.
“Home.”
She wraps her slender arms around her torso like she is hugging herself before turning away from me again to stare out of the window. Her small body trembles, and I can make out goosebumps on her creamy smooth skin.
“Turn up the heat, Markus.”
“Got it, boss.”
For the rest of the drive home, we sit silently—only the engine’s sound and the occasional sob filling the cab.
By the time we pull to the compound, I’m sweating profusely under my three-piece suit. Markus must have turned up the heat to well over a hundred degrees. As soon as Markus opens the door, I slip out of the car.
The fresh air cools me, and I inhale a harsh breath into my lungs. Turning around, I’m prepared for a fight, or at least a struggle and am pleasantly surprised to find Elena sitting on the edge of the seat waiting to get out.
Maybe this won’t be as hard as I had assumed it would be.
Eyes cast down, she wrings her hands in her lap nervously. Sliding off the seat, her small feet press against the gravel, and I contemplate picking her up to carry her inside when she winces at the contact. I love how fragile she is and how much I know she’ll need me to make it through everything I have in store for her. When I’m done with her, she will rely on me for every single thing she wants or needs.
Obviously, I’m far too trusting because she slips past me like a small mouse. Breaking off into a dead run, she dashes past the car and down the driveway. I’m not worried, though, since there isn’t anywhere for her to go.
She doesn’t make it far before one of my men grabs her, tugging her by the arm a little too roughly. I grit my teeth, my jaw clenching as I bite back the need to tell him to get his fucking hands off of her. Anger zings through me when he tugs her again, and she loses her balance falling onto the ground, scraping her knees and legs in the process.
“Let go of me!” She screams, sobs ripping from her lungs in quick succession as she pulls against Roger’s hold, trying to break free. The strap of her nightgown slips off her shoulder in the process, and she almost flashes a tit at my men.
Fuck no. No one gets to see what is mine.
Walking over to her, I gesture for Roger to let her go, and he does almost as quickly as he grabbed her, retreating two steps back. I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I need to get her inside and put her in some different clothes. My men have seen enough of her already.
Looking down at her exposed legs, I see scratches from where she fell, so I’ll need to make sure she isn’t actually hurt. Reaching down, I grab her by the hips, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my hands and toss her over my shoulder like I did earlier.
A growl forms in my throat as I become aware of how she barely weighs anything.
She doesn’t even fight me and rests motionless on my shoulder as I carry her into the house, through the foyer, and up the stairs to the bedroom we will share. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, my shoes slap against the tile as I walk across the room and deposit her on my bed… our bed. The moment her butt hits the mattress, she looks up and scoots backward until her back is pressed against the headboard.
Big green eyes brim with fear. I could tell her she is safe here, that nothing bad will happen to her. But that would be a lie. She isn’t safe yet, especially not from me.
“Stay here, get comfortable. I’ll be back soon,” I tell her as I slowly walk back toward the door. I’ve got blood to spill before I can tend to my new toy.
Looking at my beautiful prize one last time, I close the door and lock it behind me.
I let the anger that I was swallowing down boil up to the surface as I make my way through the mansion and toward the front door.
Stepping outside, I find Edwardo guarding the porch. He turns to look at me, his hand reaching for his gun before he recognizes it’s me.
“Is Roger still out here?”
“Yes, boss. He is doing a round over the west lawn. Is everything okay?”
“It will be…” I snap before walking off and into the night.
Chapter Three
Elena
Huddled against the headboard, I watch as the door closes, the last sliver of his face disappearing behind the wood and the lock clicking into place. The sound is only a reminder of how trapped I am here, how I was taken from one cage, and put in another.
At least with my father, I knew where I stood. Or I least I thought I did. I knew what was going to happen each day, and I had some freedoms, not many, but not none. Now, I have nothing. No structure, no freedom, no say in anything… not even over my own body.
My life is no longer my own. I’ve been sold by my father to this evil villainous man.
“She is now yours, do with her as you please.”
My father’s words replay in my head. I can’t believe he did this, sold me to Moretti.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I stare at the door. The room is lavish, manly, and blanketed in grays and dark blues. If the circumstances were different, I might actually be able to appreciate the beauty of it.
After a few minutes of staring at the door, I move off the bed to search for some type of way out of this room.
Walking to the first door I find, I discover an entire closet filled with clothing. I look down at my partially ripped nightgown. Who knew when I put this thing on tonight that it would be the last thing I would have from my old life?
I feel exposed and vulnerable in nothing but this, so I pull it off altogether and throw it on the ground. Quickly, I grab one of the shirts off a hanger.
I’m not sure if he is going to be mad at me for taking his stuff. Will he hurt me if I do? Punish me? Deciding it is worth the risk, I pull it on over my head and let it drift down before shoving my arms through the sleeves. The shirt is more like a dress, and the hem comes to rest against my bruised knees. A shiver snakes down my spine at the size difference between us. This man could easily hurt me, snap my neck, or take whatever he wants. My lungs burn, and I realize I’m not actually breathing.