Dark Mafia Heir (Mafia Vows #3)

Chapter 15

15

Vivienne

S igh.

Groaning, I roll over on the bed, lying on my back as I stare at the ceiling. It is another day to start again. Well, it's more like try again in my case. How does the saying go? If the going gets tough, rather die trying?

That can’t be it. I’m not going to die trying. I’m going to fucking succeed in getting out of this place, however I can.

I sit up, lean against the soft headboard. The covers slip below my breasts, and I don’t even pull it back up. What’s the point anyway? I slept naked and frustrated, and woke up even more frustrated. I might as well behave like the captive that I truly am.

Each time I remember the icy look in Antonio’s eyes when he unashamedly admitted to kidnapping me from the restaurant, I want to put a dent in that perfectly handsome face of his. Heartless bastard!

Folding my arms, I brainstorm alternative options I might need to use to execute a proper escape from Antonio Mancini’s fortress, but the only solution that presents itself is sex.

Mind-blowing continuous sex with the cold-hearted monster.

In a normal world, where ordinary innocent people carry on their day-to-day lives, it is understandable to advise a girl my age not to consider such a hopelessly degrading option— sex . I should maintain my dignity, prioritize my self-respect, rather sacrifice myself than willingly present my body to the Italian devil.

But there are two major problems:

The first one is, this world of guns, violence, and endless running streams of red is anything but normal. And here, a girl has to compromise to save herself.

The second one is, in this complicated case of mine, even compromising is not enough. Having sex with Antonio will not be enough to earn his trust and finally be rid of him. He is a man of means, a man with the looks. A man with e verything. And every single fucking thing; power, charm, charisma, intelligence, and all of those potentials work to my disadvantage. Sex with me can be sex with any other woman. One snap of his slender fingers or a commanding bat of his short eyelashes, and a hundred of them would gladly fall at his feet.

Sunken by the weight of burdens, I slip back into the covers, finding no strength to continue the rest of the day. The air is warm, the sheets are comfortable, my life is officially screwed over, and I miss my sister so much. My chest aches like a sledgehammer slammed right through, leaving a big fat hole behind. My father always said I was the stubborn one, the one who preferred things to go her way, the one who pretended to listen but hated to do what anyone else demanded of me.

I used to think he was right, until now.

Now, all I desire is to go back to sleep, and pretend that I can dream the rest of my life away till it’s all over. With the rest of my future looking bleak, sex can be put on hold, but sleep can’t. I am sure as hell not going to cry.

A soft knock on the door startles me. My heart lurches to my throat at the idea that I might have accidentally conjured the man himself from my thought, but soon enough, the hammering stops.

Antonio Mancini waiting by the door for my permission to come in? Ha! Laughable, indeed. If it was him, he wouldn’t bother to knock. Only normal people with respect for others do that.

I don’t get up, but my ears strain to pick out the smallest sound that can help me identify the stranger at the door. “Who is it?”

“Agatha.”

Oh.

Dragging the covers to my chin, I sink my head deeper into the pillow. The thought of how I threatened this woman with a knife to her throat lingers. A fucking knife, for Chris’ sake. Maybe I’m burying my head in subtle shame, or maybe I’m just pretending to be sick. She can interpret it either way when she comes in.

“The door’s unlocked.” Because the man himself would stir up a disastrous storm if he finds out, I keep the door locked.

Again, Vivienne, you are not the owner of yourself.

Like hell, I’m not.

The door clicks shut behind the old woman when she shuffles into the room bearing gifts: toiletries and something that looks like a pink maternity gown from view. Sitting up, I clutch the covers to my chest. Her brows dip, and a pout takes shape on her lips. She places the gown and tubes of toothpaste, cream, and a bunch of other things at the foot of the bed, walking over to the side to put the back of her hand on my head.

“Are you well, child?”

I’m looking into her eyes, melting under her motherly touch, wondering— Am I?

Are you well, Vivienne?

The answer is, of course, a very solid N-O.

“Yes, sure.” Being more self-conscious, I stretch the covers higher up, and shift my gaze away from hers.

Her kindness surprises and overwhelms me. Perhaps, she doesn’t remember, but the memory is as vivid as the day I was kidnapped—glinting steel held to her throat. God, how pathetic could I be? I wanted to run away from a killer, and I harassed an old woman.

Calming down, I encourage myself. It is not my fault that I am here. Again, compromise.

“Then why are you naked? Did you have a fever?”

“I might as well have. It’s hot in here.”

The air-conditioners are working just fine. I didn’t turn them on. Maybe I low-key just wanted to wallow in frustration. Who knows? The point is, I feel suffocated and need a way out. But my conscience pricks like a freaking needle, and I know I cannot continue a conversation with Agatha until I?—

“I’m sorry.”

Wide-eyed and startled, she takes a step back. “Whatever for?”

What does she mean by “whatever for?”

I could have hurt you, woman!

“For the other day. The knife episode.”

A hearty chuckle leaves her lips, and she goes around the bed again, picks up the items she dropped there, and starts moving about the room to fix them where they belong. When she is done, she ambles towards me and hands me the dress. When I take a closer look, I am relieved to notice the laces dangling at what I suppose is the back of the flowing dress.

Taking it from her, I keep it beside me on the bed.

“We all have our crazy days. That was your day, and I perfectly understood your need for fight or flight. I was available and vulnerable. If I were in your shoes, I might have done the exact same thing, child. I hold nothing against you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You are Nio’s own. No good can come out of holding a grudge.”

I almost bite down on my tongue when she indirectly points out Antonio’s ownership over me and focus instead on her ability to forgive. How is it possible that a woman with such a golden heart and an invisible halo hovering over her head works for a man like Antonio?

It’s almost enviable. If I had a shred of her piousness, I might have settled in twenty-four hours after my abduction.

Thinking about it stirs a flame in my chest that I thought I could sleep away.

Settling in? Bullshit.

My father was right. I am resilient and stubborn. And I pretended to listen and subdue but hated it when anyone else demanded something from me.

Antonio didn’t play fair with me, so I wasn’t going to either with him, and as long as I am concerned, he dragged in the wrong fucking cat.

I am Vivienne Cole, and I am prepared to rain shit on Antonio Mancini’s parade. If he thinks he’ll easily break me, he has another thing coming.

“Thank you, sincerely. You will make my stay here a little less awkward.” I hold my head up high and stare out the window. “Say, Agata, I’ve been wondering: what can a girl like me do for fun around here?”

I don’t look at her but catch a glimpse of shoulders moving from periphery. “Fun? I’m not sure, child. This fortress wasn’t designed to be a kid’s playground. But I guess. . . It is a sunny day. You can lounge by the pool. I can ask someone to buy and bring up a selection of the finest bikinis for you to choose from. Nio wouldn’t mind, as long as you behave.”

Kicking the covers off with a wide, lopsided grin, I strut to the bathroom.

Of course, he wouldn’t.

Before I shut the bathroom door behind me, I don’t fail to appreciate the old maid for her kind-heartedness and naivety.

“Thank you, Agatha. Really, thank you. ”

One hour later, and I’m emerging from the cool crystal-blue waters of the swimming pool like a water goddess on a mission to teach the mortal men on the island a lesson they will never forget.

The scorching sun beats down on my skin, making the water droplets sparkle like tiny diamonds. I feel the warmth seep into my pores, and I don’t bother reaching for a towel to dry off. Instead, I let the sun do its work, evaporating the water from my skin as I bask in its radiant heat on the pool chair.

The warmth is exhilarating, and I feel alive, refreshed, and rejuvenated after my swim.

But something else prickles at the side of my face and makes my body tingle in an anxious awareness. I don’t need to crack my skull to know what it is. He’s watching me.

From the moment I stepped out into the sun, wearing the sleaziest one-piece swimsuit from Agatha’s selection, Antonio had his eyes on me. From the window in his room, he had the perfect view of everything, from the beautiful sight of nature, the glinting diamond reflection of the pool, to the crisscross ropes on my lemon bikini that barely shielded my assets.

A huge shadow falls over my poolside chair, and when I open my eyes to the sight hard eyes and long hair, the curve on my lips tilt higher.

What Nio doesn’t know is that I wasn’t built to behave. I’m only prepared to give him an even more perfect view.

I brush my hair behind my ears and smile up at Lorenzo. His gaze brushes over my body and lingers for a second, until he seems to remember that action, as brisk as it was, can get him killed.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Like you, I thought the pool would be a great side to clear my head.”

I nod, pretending to understand. “Busy day?”

He shrugs, and there’s a look in his eyes, like he’s trying not to see me. “Something like that.”

I hadn’t noticed it before, probably because I got off on the wrong foot with almost everyone in this house, but Lorenzo is . . . kind of cute. If cute was any way to describe a hot man with a hard exterior.

He starts to move away, and I jump on my feet to follow him. “Hey, Lorenzo, can we be friends?”

That makes him pause and turn to stare at me, first with wide eyes, and then they grow a fraction wider. I think it was my question that put that look of concern there, but I should have been a bit more observant.

If I was, I’d have noticed that Antonio’s window was now empty, and the man that should have been standing there now lurked behind me like a second shadow.

I don’t make it through a protest. Lorenzo spins upside down when Antonio throws me over his shoulder, and marches off wordlessly with his strong hands clamped down on my ankle.

In a matter of seconds, I’m in my bedroom, the door bangs shut behind us, and I’m flung on the bed like a rag doll.

“Turn the fuck around, gattina. Right now.”

“What are you going to do?” I glare at him. “Spank me?”

The growl that rips through his throat is beastly when he lurches forward and, with unearthly strength, flips me around so that I’m lying on my stomach.

Blunt fingernails dig into my thighs, strong hands go around my waist and grip my hips, and?—

A loud smack echoes in the room when he spanks me across the butt cheeks. He smacks me again, hard palms connecting with my soft flesh, and I gasp.

My fingers curl into the sheets, grasping as I struggle to suppress a moan. And I may or may not have arched my ass higher against his crotch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Antonio as livid as he is now, and it excites me because the source of his anger is, in fact, me. His obsessive possession over me.

I shouldn’t like it. I shouldn’t want him to keep spanking me, but I do anyway.

I feel him move away before I hear the thunder in his voice.

“The next time I see you flirt with another man, he’s going to lose his fucking head, I swear to God.”

Nostrils flaring, fingers clenched, and jaw set like a man on a mission to obliterate his adversities, and yet, I still unashamedly find him hot.

Rolling off the bed, I pretend to be upset and narrow my eyes at him. My ass stings, but pleasure zaps through my body rather than pain.

“Have I ever told you how much of an asshole you are, Antonio Mancini? If yes, then I don’t think I have told you enough.”

I stomp towards the bathroom, intentionally brushing past him as I move. “You are an asshole, and, it doesn’t matter how many times you act like it, I don’t fucking belong to you or anyone else.”

I slam the door shut.