2. Lyla
2
LYLA
I open a can of mixed vegetables and pour them into the steaming broth, my stomach roiling at the thought of eating them. This is all I have—thanks to the deadbeat I call a father who constantly steals my paychecks from me.
As I add more ingredients to the pot, my mind wanders to the envelope of cash on the table. It’s the rent money that I’ve fought to save, managing to keep it hidden before he could gamble it all away. He’s been a constant disappointment since my mom died when I was young, turning to alcohol as a coping mechanism and leaving me to pick up the drunken pieces.
I hear his heavy footsteps approaching our apartment door, and I realize it’s time for me to leave this toxic situation. I can’t take it anymore. The sense of loyalty and familial obligation has long disappeared. Dread settles over me when he steps inside, but I emerge from the small kitchen, ready to get this conversation over with.
Only, my father isn’t here. Just two menacing strangers the size of small mountains, taking up most of the space in our tiny living room. My blood runs cold as they stare at me, their dark gazes drifting over my body from head to toe. A primal instinct warns me they’re dangerous predators in human form and I’m their prey.
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice shaking with fear.
The tall man on the left steps closer and I recognize him right away. I’ve seen him twice before, when I’ve had to drag my father out of some illegal gambling hall. He peers at me with cold eyes.
Marco Vanetti is in my home.
Without warning, desire surges through me at the sight of his piercing gaze taking in my curvy figure. I try to push away the attraction, knowing this is not the time or place for it. Yet something about him draws me in, even though he’s involved in various criminal activities.
“What do you want with me?” I squeak, feeling both scared and aroused by his presence. My hands begin to tremble, and I clench them into fists at my sides.
His eyes flash with heat and my body responds against my will—against my better judgement as well, considering this man is a known killer.
He drags the tip of his tongue across his teeth. “I’ve come to collect a debt.” He takes another step forward with a hungry expression on his handsome face, and I assume he’s not talking about money.
“My father isn’t here,” I blurt out, backing up until I hit the wall.
“I know where he is, Lyla.” Marco smirks. “I’ve come here for you .”
Beads of sweat begin to roll down my spine. “Me? I… I don’t understand.”
Marco tilts his head while his gaze roams over my body again. I know what he’s thinking. It’s the same thing men like him always think, and he’s not getting that from me. I don’t care how sexy he is.
The other man remains quiet by the door while Marco does all the talking. “Henry has racked up quite a large debt, Princess. One he can’t afford to pay.”
Of course he has. Why would I expect anything less from my father?
I snatch the envelope of money off the table and extend it to Marco, my pulse racing with a mix of terror and attraction. “Here. Take this. It’s nine hundred dollars.”
Marco barks out a laugh while his friend chuckles quietly behind him, their dark eyes glittering with amusement. He studies the cash in my hand, and I feel a flush of embarrassment when he doesn’t reach for it.
“You’re about ninety-nine grand off the mark, sweetheart,” he tells me as he regains his composure.
Did he say ninety-nine grand? As in dollars?
“I… I can give you more next week when I get paid. A couple hundred on Friday,” I offer, knowing it will leave me with nothing. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to save mine and my father’s asses. But my words fall on deaf ears.
“Keep your money, Princess,” Marco says, using the condescending nickname that infuriates and excites me. There’s something alluring about this formidable man with his imposing stature.
Then, realization hits me like a train. He’s not here for my rent money. He’s here for me .
“No,” I protest. “We’ll just have to find another way to pay you. I can work off his debt. Surely you could use someone to clean your house or one of your businesses? And I’m a decent cook. I can?—”
He cuts me off with a growl that I feel all the way down to the apex of my thighs. “You will do none of those things, Lyla.” His nostrils flare as he simmers with anger. “I knew this was the right decision,” he mutters under his breath and I barely hear him.
“What decision?”
“Forget it. Doesn’t matter,” he sneers. “Let’s go.”
Go? I’m not going anywhere with him.
“Where is he? Where’s my father?” I begin to shift my weight from one foot to the other, wringing my hands in front of me.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s fine.” The sharp edge of Marco’s voice makes me shudder. Before I can question him further, he loses his patience and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Panic sets in as I fight to get free, even if it means falling to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shout, kicking out with my legs in hopes of landing a strike. His grip tightens around me before his hand comes down on my ass with a loud thwack that causes me to cry out.
Did… did he just spank me?
His silent friend laughs at me, and I glare at him as he opens the door before Marco carries me outside and onto the street. Desperation consumes me as we make our way toward a black sedan with dark-tinted windows. I scream for help, but no one comes to my aid. I don’t know why I bother, because no one ever comes to save you in this part of town.
When we reach the car, Marco sets me back on my feet, and I continue to plead with him. “Please, don’t take me. It’s not my debt. I did nothing wrong.” Tears well in my eyes, but I refuse to show weakness.
For a split second, I think I see something other than cold impassiveness in his eyes—a flicker of sympathy or maybe even remorse. Then it’s gone in an instant, replaced with a steely resolve, and in one swift motion, he shoves me into the back of the car before climbing in next to me. My heart races. There’s no escape from this man and whatever fate awaits me.
His counterpart takes a seat behind the wheel, remaining silent as he navigates through the bustling streets of the city. My chest is tight as I search for a way out of this, but I know my efforts are pointless. I’m trapped.
Marco’s massive thigh presses along mine and I sense his gaze on me again, making me squirm under his intense scrutiny. Despite my fear, or perhaps because of it, my body betrays me with an undeniable urge to feel more of his touch.
Annoyed with myself, I attempt to put distance between us and slide toward the passenger door. He drags me back to him, more of his muscular body pressing against me and making my nipples peak beneath my cheap cotton bra.
Defeated, I sit still, silently fuming over how my father—the one person left in this world who’s supposed to love and protect me—has gotten me into this mess.
He wasn’t always this way. He used to be a good dad, but after Mom died, everything fell apart. He drank himself into a dark hole, spending everything we had chasing his gambling high.
Deep in my thoughts, I lose track of time until we approach a large gate, far outside the city limits. My eyes widen when the metal doors open, revealing a long driveway that leads to the most stunning mansion I’ve ever seen. It’s an elegant estate, with classic architecture and well-manicured grounds. A place I couldn’t dare to dream that I’d ever call home.
For a moment, I entertain the thought that being held captive here might not be so bad after all. Then I chastise myself for having such foolish notions and remember I’ve just been kidnapped by one of the most vicious men on the east coast.
Marco steps out of the parked vehicle and offers his hand to me, but I can’t bring myself to take it—it’s too late for him to play the gentleman now after stealing me away from the only life I’ve ever known.
As I exit the car of my own volition, my body brushes against his and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. An unexpected urge to be near him overtakes me, but I resist and scan my new surroundings instead. Even with apprehension swirling in my stomach, I can’t deny the beauty of the isolated mansion before me. It’s evident that Marco has spared no expense to create this private sanctuary, but it feels like a luxurious prison to me, and I wonder how long of a sentence I’ll have to serve.
His firm grip on my elbow pulls me back to reality, and he leads me inside. “C’mon, I’ll show you to your room,” he says, guiding me up a massive staircase.
I fail at hiding how awestruck I am as we walk down a long hallway with numerous rooms on both sides. Then, he opens a door at the end of the hall to reveal a bedroom that’s bigger than my entire apartment. So big it comes with its own sitting area, wet bar, and bathroom suite. A grand four-poster bed dominates the main space while cream-colored furniture adorns every corner. Through the window, I see a picturesque backyard complete with a stone patio, outdoor kitchen, pool, and a meticulously kept garden.
As I admire the colorful flowers below, Marco opens another door. “This is the wardrobe. It’s already been stocked.”
Confused, I peer inside to find multiple racks full of dresses, blouses, skirts, and pants. Shelves hold rows of shoes and handbags. And there’s an island in the middle displaying more jewelry than any woman could need in a lifetime. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was in some high-end boutique and not just a walk-in closet.
“Whose stuff is this?” I ask, an unfamiliar pang of jealousy hitting me in the stomach.
“It’s yours, Lyla. Everything should be in your size,” he replies blankly before glancing at his expensive watch.
“Why would you do this?”
“There are casual clothes in the dresser too,” he announces, pointing to a chest of drawers along the wall. “For dinner tonight, you’ll wear this.”
I watch Marco retrieve a long, silky white dress, and my body tenses with defiance. The draping neckline and figure-hugging silhouette would no doubt accentuate all my curves, but I refuse to be persuaded by designer garments.
“I am not wearing that,” I snap, glaring at him and pushing away the dress. “It’s dinner, not a wedding.”
His smug expression fuels my anger. “Only virgins wear white in weddings,” he taunts. “And I doubt you’re one of those.”
In a moment of recklessness, I raise a hand and slap him across the face. Shocked by my own actions, I stumble back and wait for swift retaliation. But to my surprise, Marco laughs, rubbing his fingers along his cheek.
Then he leans toward me. There’s nowhere for me to go. “I like it when you fight me, Princess. It only makes my dick harder.” His words send a jolt of arousal through me, but I’m quick to dismiss it. This is wrong on so many levels, and I will not give in. “You will wear the dress tonight.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” I retort, and his grip on my arm tightens.
“Wear the dress, or you’ll dine naked.” Then he storms out of the room, leaving me seething with anger.
Beneath the fury and false bravado is a simmering lust, a strong attraction I’ve felt since the first time I saw him. I knew then he was at least a decade older, and I was nothing like the women he’s used to being with. Yet somehow, I’ve ended up here, with him now. And I wonder how long before I give in to temptation.