Charming Savage (Cinder Crew: Mafia Fairytale Retellings)

Prologue Chris

The screen flickered, a grainy image sharpening as I zoomed in on her. Ella. Fucking Ella with her sunshine hair almost down to her ass like some goddamn princess. She paced the length of the cell, all wide brown eyes that hadn't yet lost their innocence despite the hell she'd been thrown into.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, feeling the familiar tightening in my gut as she moved. It wasn’t right, this pull toward her, but fuck me if I could help it. She stopped abruptly, and I leaned back in my chair, trying to keep my composure.

"Hey, Belle," she called out gently. The sound of her voice through the shitty speakers was enticing, and I rubbed a hand across my jaw, feeling the rough stubble there.

Fuck. My pants pulled as she laughed at something Belle said. There was no denying it – my body reacted to her like a fucking live wire, every movement, every smile lighting me up inside. My other hand clenched into a fist on the cold metal of the desk, knuckles white.

There wasn't supposed to be anything arousing about watching a captive on a surveillance camera. This was business, monitoring, making sure the merchandise didn't do anything stupid. But Ella wasn't just any captive, and my body betrayed me with every hitched breath I took watching her.

My pulse quickened, my dick throbbing as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, delicate wrist exposed, skin pale against the dark bruise where the cuffs had chafed. I shouldn't give a fuck, but I did, and it pissed me off.

I shifted in my seat, trying to adjust the growing problem below. She stretched, arms reaching above her head, and my eyes followed the curve of her side, the hint of ribs beneath the thin fabric of her tank top. A low growl rumbled in my throat. Control was slipping, and the more I watched her, the more I wanted to break every fucking rule I'd ever set for myself.

She was a job, a task, a thing to be dealt with. A product that's been sold. Yet here I was, hard as steel, wanting nothing more than to tear through those bars and claim her.

Son of a bitch. My hand slammed against the desk. This was a dangerous game, one where I was supposed to be in control. But Ella, sweet, sunshine Ella, was flipping the fucking board and I was tumbling down with it.