SUN #6
Anzo sits casually on the edge of the desk and just looks at me.
I lift my head for a second, just to check, then quickly lower it again, staring at my hands resting on the Persian carpet.
Yeah, he has it easy with me. I gave in fast.
"What’s the size of your dick?"
That catches me off guard.
But I answer, because why the fuck not?
"Thought you knew everything about me. It’s almost nine inches. To be precise: eight and three quarters."
"Thick?"
"I’d say so. Why’re you asking? Doubt you’d want me fucking you. Mafia bosses don’t usually swing that way."
That’s when I see it. Anzo’s face shifts, just slightly. Something in his eyes goes dark.
"What do you mean, ‘that way’?"
"You know… stereotypes."
"Enlighten me. What stereotypes are we talking about?"
We stare at each other for a brief moment. Sure, he beats me in every other way, but that doesn’t mean he’s drained the last bit of fire out of me. I can’t say anything that insults him directly, but maybe I can piss him off in a roundabout way.
"A mafia boss fits the whole image of having a big, fat cock he uses to fuck everyone senseless. It’s kind of a trope, you know? Romance novels love that shit. That’s what the readers want."
Anzo glances at the floor, right around where my knees are. Looks like he’s either thinking about how to respond or doesn’t feel like giving me one.
So I press on, smirking, spiteful.
"But hey, you’re a beta. And betas usually swing both ways, right? So I can totally picture you taking dick. Nothing wrong with that, hell, I’m a bottom. Best position there is. You just lie back, do nothing, and still feel fucking amazing. What’s not to like? Someone else does all the work."
I want to laugh, but I hold it in. Pushing him just for the hell of it might not be the smartest move, for sure.
Anzo doesn’t react much. He just asks, calm as ever:
"You’ve never topped?"
I grimace a little.
"A few times. Wasn’t my idea. One of my exes really pushed for it. Not my thing, though. I’m a pillow princess."
He keeps staring. I’m starting to get a little impatient.
"So? You gonna tell me what you actually want from me now? If you’re expecting me to fuck you, you better get me some pills, ‘cause I’m not gonna get hard otherwise."
Anzo straightens up.
"What I want from you is… complicated, pet. I’m not that easy to satisfy. You’ll have to put in some effort."
"Define ‘effort’."
"First of all, your behavior. You need to learn respect. And I know that won’t be easy for you, because life’s spoiled you."
"You don’t know shit about me."
"On the contrary. I know enough. Even who you lost your virginity to."
I freeze. He could’ve dug that deep? Of course he could’ve.
"Poor Dogger. If he saw you now, on your knees with a collar around your neck, I don’t think he’d have gotten into that bar fight."
"How do you… know… how do you know about him—"
I’m stammering. Feels like a steel vice is crushing my chest.
"I don’t like showing up to a date unprepared, kitten," he says, almost smiling.
"What else do you know about him?"
"Just that he runs a bar with his new boyfriend in a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with us. His boyfriend’s an omega. They’re expecting their first kid."
I shut my eyes. I don’t want to hear this. It could be lies. Anzo trying to fuck with my head. Trying to break me.
I can’t let him break me.
And yet… I do. I press my hands to my face. A sob escapes my chest.
"Now strip, Sun."
The sob catches in my throat. I pull my hands away and look at him. He’s completely serious.
"I wanna take a good look at my newest acquisition," he says like he might smile, but doesn’t.
There’s no saving me now, so I start undoing the buttons on my pale green silk shirt.
Usually, I don’t have the slightest problem with getting naked, I love my body and I’m proud of it, but… this is different.
Still, I keep going. I shrug the shirt off, then get rid of my jeans. Finally, without a word, I pull down my boxers.
I feel oddly numb about whatever might happen next as I go back to my kneeling position.
Anzo watches me with intensity.
"You’re very pretty. And fit," he says, almost approving. "Haven’t seen many alphas more beautiful than you. If any. So you are, in a way… special."
"Oh yeah. I’m special, all right. You have no fucking idea. But I guess it won’t stay a secret for long."
He tilts his head. "And what won’t stay a secret?"
"My ass isn’t like other alphas’."
There’s darkness in Anzo’s eyes.
"On your knees, kitten. Show me."
With a grim look, I turn around and kneel facing away from him, letting him get a good look.
Anzo rises from his perch at the edge of the table and comes over. He crouches down, and then I feel his hands on my ass. I flinch, instinctively; his touch is cold, rough.
"Well, I’ll be damned," he mutters. "Didn’t think that was even possible in an alpha."
"See? I didn’t lie. I’m special," I mumble, hoping maybe the more unique I am, the better my chances of not being so ‘useless’ to him.
His finger runs down my spine, then touches my hole.
Another shiver. Gosh, I wish it were a good kind, but that’s not the case. The whole ‘being kidnapped and electrocuted’ thing ruined the idea of a sexy meeting with a mafioso for good.
"What would you even call yourself… a rose alpha?"
"I don’t know," I say, voice tight, feeling all kinds of wrong like this, exposed, vulnerable. "I wasn’t born this way. My parents don’t even know.
When I was like eleven or twelve, my body started to change.
Actually, I thought I’d turn out to be an omega.
But then I hit a growth spurt, and by seventeen my glands matured.
Turns out I’m just an alpha… with a different kind of outlet. "
"You produce slick."
"Yeah."
The whole thing feels almost clinical. I’m trembling like I’m cold, even though the room’s a normal temperature.
But then Anzo straightens up and walks back to his desk.
"Get dressed," he says, and I do it with pure relief.
"Will you finally tell me what it is you actually want from me?" I ask, kneeling again once I’ve buttoned up my shirt and pulled my pants back on.
"As I said, we’re going to start with your behavior. Do you know how to conduct yourself at the table with dignity and class?"
"I’m not sure my manners live up to your standards, but I can try."
"I can forgive a lot, overlook plenty, pet. But one thing I won’t tolerate is insolence." He narrows his eyes.
That’s when I feel it, Anzo gives me a reminder.
A faint electric jolt radiates from the collar around my neck. It’s subtle, barely there, but my whole body jerks. I wrap my arms around my waist instinctively, bracing for another, stronger shock. But it doesn’t come. Anzo just smiles.
How does he control it? Not with a remote, right? Is it triggered from that implant in his temple?
"Any kind of disrespect or disobedience, and that little tickle won’t feel so little next time. So keep yourself in check and act with some decorum at the table, because you’re going to be introduced to my family."
"What did I do to deserve the honor of dining with the great Ferro family?" I ask.
Another zap hits me.
Still fairly light, but sharp enough to sting. I gasp and exhale hard.
"I told you to drop the attitude. We need to strip it out of you, piece by piece."
He gets up and circles me like I’m on display.
"And the best place to learn manners is at the dinner table. So that’s where we’ll start."
"Tell me what I’m supposed to do then. Am I getting clothes? A room?"
"You already have a room. As for clothes, did you check your closet? I believe the boys brought over part of your wardrobe."
What? I freeze. That can only mean one thing, his goons went through my stuff. Entered the dorm, ransacked my closet.
I remember that beta at the front desk, his greedy eyes. No doubt he let them in once they waved some cash in his face.
"So I’m staying longer than I thought," I whisper.
Anzo doesn’t say a word.
"Or maybe forever. Until the day you get bored of me and crank that collar up to max."
Still no answer.
Clearly, the conversation’s over.
That’s when the door opens, and I see the same guard again.
"This is Matteo," Anzo says. "He’s your personal… bodyguard. He’ll take you to your room. Be ready in one hour. Then we’ll see how you behave at dinner. Trust me, a lot depends on how you handle yourself at that table."
"One more thing," I say quickly. "I know you’re married. How should I act around your husband?"
Anzo’s face doesn’t move a muscle.
"Don’t worry about that. You’ll know what not to do if you don’t want the collar going off. I believe in you, kitten."
He flashes me a smile that’s all predatory.
I just swallow hard, stand up from my knees, and follow Matteo out.
As we walk down the hallway, I have to ask.
"Is there anything I can do to get you to help me get out of here?"
"Shut your mouth," Matteo says coldly. And that’s it.
***
An hour later, I’m ready, just like Anzo wanted. I changed into a simple black button-up and black jeans, tied my hair into a low ponytail. Minimalist.
The whole flirting-with-danger thing is over. Now it’s time for part two: figuring out how to get myself out of this mess.
While I wait for Matteo, I pace the room. My feet keep pulling me toward the window.
Outside, I see the gardener carefully filling round planters along the path with small white stones. I watch him for a moment. His movements are calm, measured.
As I stare, it happens again.
The moment I press my forehead slightly against the glass, the man suddenly lifts his head. I can’t see his features from this distance, just a pale blur, but I’m sure he looks straight at me. For a moment, we’re practically staring into each other’s eyes.
Then he looks away and reaches for another handful of white gravel.
My previous idea of signaling him seems even more stupid than before.