Chapter 8
Kaiser
When Bella walks in, she stops short at the sight of her father surrounded by men in masks.
“Papa? What’s going on?”
I’m in the back, keeping still to blend in with the shadows. From here, I can see every microexpression that flits over her face.
Her skin pales, but she doesn’t scream. She takes in the sight of us in our masks with remarkable calm. First, she squints at St. James, then sweeps her gaze to Damien, who’s sitting behind the desk.
The tingles in my palm spread up my arm. My fingers flex convulsively.
“We had some business to discuss with your father,” Damien rasps. “And now you.”
She blinks. “Me?” With her slight build and pale white-blonde hair, she looks innocent as a girl.
Looks are deceiving. She belongs in a devil mask of her own.
“It’s okay, Bella,” her father says, but he sounds like he’s just been sentenced to death. Bella flinches.
“You’re lying.” Her shoulders hunch and her breath comes faster. She’s recognized the stakes.
If I don’t do something, she’s going to act rashly, and I have no idea what she’ll do. She’s wild, unpredictable. I’m not worried about her hurting us, but if she tries something, I’ll have to stop her, and I don’t want to hurt her. Or for her to hurt herself, fighting me.
Two strides and I’m standing over her. I’m over a foot taller, so her head tilts back.
“Calm down.” My voice is muffled in the mask. I lean down so she can look me in the eye.
It only takes her a second. “You,” she gasps.
“Me.” I can’t hide the satisfaction in my voice. My hand aches, wanting to touch her, to claim her, but I make myself wait.
Her posture relaxes. “What are you doing here?” she demands. A bit breathless but more annoyed than frightened. She reaches out slowly, and her hand hovers in the space between us, pausing as if she’s waiting for me to stop her.
Normally, I would. I don’t let anyone touch me. But I don’t stop her. I let her fingers brush my face and draw the mask down.
A sweet honey scent fills the air. Little Miss Psycho isn’t afraid. She’s aroused.
Or maybe both. Little shivers run over her body.
I want to scoop her up and carry her away.
Out of this office and away from her father and my brothers’ prying eyes.
I don’t want Damien or St. James seeing her reaction to me.
But they already have. St. James, in particular, sees everything and will turn a person’s weakness against them.
That’s how we turned Fraternitas from a gang of street kids into a secret society that rules an entire city’s underworld.
I don’t want them looking at her. She’s mine.
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea.
The thought of owning her has become so satisfying.
She’s the only one in the world who’s ever gotten under my skin.
When I saw the chance to own her, I took it.
St. James came up with this whole arranged marriage contract.
I should hate it, but I like the idea of owning someone fully.
She’ll hate it, and I like that even more.
“I’m here to sign this.” I show her the contract. “A marriage contract between me and you.”
She looks dazed. She shakes her head a little, confused.
Her whole world is crumbling. Once she finds her footing, she’ll fight me, and I can’t wait.
I’ve already won.
I can’t keep the triumph out of my voice when I explain, “The deal is done. You’re going to be my wife.”
She reacts immediately, jerking back. Instinctively, I grab her. I set a hand on the juncture between her neck and shoulder and grip her trapezius. The upper trap muscles hold tension.
I love the way she relaxes, responding to my touch. I squeeze the tight muscle, and she sighs, her mouth going lax.
Her skin is perfect. It looks so soft, I wish I could feel it, but even though they’ve been tingling lately, my fingers are still too calloused, too numb. Usually, I hate touching bare skin with my dead man’s fingers, but with her? I can’t get enough.
My cock is trying to beat a path out of my jeans. She’s practically purring as I hold her by the scruff of her neck. My perfect little kitten.
I want to pet her all over.
She’s not afraid of me, either, not really. Most women can sense the danger lurking inside me. Even the ones who are drawn to my good looks end up fearing me.
But Bella is different. She might be able to survive me.
A better man would feel sorry for what I’m going to inflict on her, but I feel only excitement.
I’m not capable of love. I lost that ability long ago.
But controlling someone completely? Now that I crave. I never thought I’d want a woman like this, but I want Belladonna Bosco. If only to punish her for making me feel things.
And now I’ll have her. She’ll be my bride and under my control. She won’t be allowed to touch herself anymore, unless I give the command.
Last night while she slept, I broke into her bedroom and studied the dog-eared chapters of her favorite romance novel. I plan to buy my own copy and memorize the passages she reads the most.
We’ll recreate each scene, one by one. She’ll be my little toy to play with every night.
Her eyes will turn black as I stroke and tease her. She’ll beg me, and I’ll make her please me before I spread her legs and slam my dick home. I’ll use her ponytails as hand grips. I’ll make her drink my cum and spank her tight ass pink before licking the cum out of her.
And then I’ll do it again.
And again.
She’s watching me now, and I focus. I’ve spent so many nights fantasizing about her, but now my dreams are coming true. She raises a brow at me, silently questioning what I’m doing.
I massage her trap, loosening the muscle before I squeeze my fingers tighter. “Better?”
Her eyelids flutter, like she wants to surrender to me. But she fights it, her brow furrowing. I’m touching her in front of everyone, laying my claim, and she knows it. She wants to shake me off, but it feels too good, so she doesn’t.
I’m starting to understand her. To know her intimately. With a little training, she’ll be easy to control.
“I don’t understand.” She glances at her father, tensing a little again. She’s just realized he’s not stopping me from touching her. He’s no longer her protector.
She looks back at me, and my chest swells. That’s right, little one. I’m the one who controls you now.
“You’re right, Bella. It’s not okay, but it will be,” her father says.
He’s a small man, petite like his daughter.
She favors him, even though his skin is a shade darker than hers, and his hair is brown, while she’s dyed her hair an unnatural blonde.
“I know it’s sudden, but this arrangement will benefit all of us. ”
“Yes, it will.” Damien stands up. He fiddles with his cufflink, drawing everyone’s attention to the glittering skull ring on his tattooed hand. Unlike my ring, the skull on his finger is wearing a crown. “It will profit us greatly, and it will keep you both alive. Come and sit, Miss Bosco.”
Bella flinches when she hears her full name. She hunches a little, and I keep a firm grip on the back of her neck as I maneuver her in front of the desk. I have to leave her side to get a chair for her to sit in, but I return quickly.
She’s scared and now wired with adrenaline. I want to soothe her but also let her know she can’t escape.
She’s a wild one, and my brothers are trusting me to keep her under my thumb. Literally, if necessary.
This whole situation is fucked. No one knows why, after a career of discretion, Benjiro Bosco threw caution to the wind and murdered one of the most powerful men in Metropolis.
Benjiro covered his tracks, but St. James was suspicious and ordered an autopsy.
The Poisoner is known for his proprietary blends, and the arsenic blend used to trigger a heart attack in Alfredo Vesuvio had never been used before.
The regular autopsy didn’t find it, but Atticus did.
We’ve partnered with the Poisoner before, but this reckless move left us stunned. St. James and Atticus dug deep into the history, and a pattern emerged. Over the past ten years, there have been several high-profile deaths that can be traced to the Poisoner. He’s not as discreet as we thought.
The Vesuvios suspect him, but they don’t have proof. When they find out, they’ll do everything in their power to wipe him and the only person he cares about—his daughter—out.
I’m not going to let that happen. Today, we signed an official alliance with the Poisoner. The marriage will secure it. After I told St. James I wanted Belladonna for my own, he thought this up. It’s perfect.
Except my future bride is on edge, her gaze flitting around the room like she’s gearing up for an escape attempt.
I almost want her to run so that I can chase her.
I step between her and her father.
“You’ve been following me,” she accuses.
“Yes. He has. We assigned Kaiser to keep an eye on you a few months ago,” Damien says.
She blinks, as if she expected us to deny it.
“Kaiser?” she asks me. “That’s your name?”
I nod.
“Last name?”
“Just Kaiser.”
She frowns like she thinks I’m holding out on her. I’m not; Jaeger and I don’t have a last name. Then she says, “Like a Kaiser roll.”
The fuck?
“Kaiser roll.” She does a little shimmy in her seat. Brat.
“Bella,” her father warns.
“We’ve had our eye on your family for some time,” Damien says. “We’ve had certain agreements with your father over the years. Now, he has broken them, and he owes us a debt.”
“I stay out of my father’s business,” she says. “Are we in trouble?”
“Not if you do as you’re told.” St. James finally sees fit to speak. Bella startles, as if she’s forgotten he was lurking there.
“Me?”
“We’ve updated the contract with your father, but it requires collateral.”
“I’ve agreed to give Kaiser your hand in marriage,” her father says.
Bella sits frozen. I rest a hand on the back of her neck. “Breathe.” I can’t have her passing out on me.
“Marriage,” she repeats like she can’t believe it. “But… I don’t want to get married.”