The Dominator : a dark mafia romance

Chapter 3

When I opened the door and saw her standing there, I wanted to capture the moment in time. It went from her being stoic, trying to hide her fear, standing tall and rigid in a gorgeous, clingy black dress, high heels, her hair up in a sophisticated style, to the flash of recognition that led to her forehead crinkling and her eyes staring at me accusingly.

I stepped in, closed the door behind myself, and I stood there, waiting for her to say something.

Oh my God. OH MY GOD! The hottie from the ice cream parlor. I couldn’t believe this! I told my friends about him and how gorgeous he was to the point that the subject had been banned because they got sick of my going on and on about him. I’d fricking dreamt about him, about him and his cherry stem-tying tongue. And here he was. This was him.

He’s tall. Like really tall, six foot three, six foot four, maybe. Caramel brown kind of curly, kind of messy-on-purpose hair, chiseled face, light brown, sort of whiskey-colored, eyes. He resembles his father. His mouth? Drool-worthy. He had a bit of a five o’clock shadow just like the other day. He was standing in a suit, a black suit with a dark blue dress shirt and no tie. That suit fit him very well. He looked like a million dollars. Five million dollars. He has to be close to ten years older than me. He has to be the sexiest fricking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Ever. But What.The.Fuck?

If this were ancient times or whenever arranged marriages were common and I’d been brought up to know that I’d someday have an arranged marriage, I’d have been thrilled at what was standing in front of me.

Obviously, I’d been betrothed to a wealthy gorgeous man. It could be worse. A lot worse. But this wasn’t ancient times. I’m not thrilled. I’m freaked right the heck out. Not only are my choices being taken away and not only am I under threat, but this is a fricking mafia family. What the heck?

“Athena,” he said, a little smirk on his face. That meeting at the ice cream parlor was so obviously no accident.

I stood still, totally in shock.

“Tommy Ferrano,” he said. “Nice to officially meet you.” He extended his hand.

I snickered and folded my arms. He gave me a little smile and pulled his hand back without reacting, then proceeded to circle me. Circle me! Fear prickled my scalp because I suddenly felt like prey; felt like a piece of meat. That’s exactly how he circled me.

“So, I’m told you’re missing a party right now, one that’s important to you,” he said, meeting my eyes with his and stopping directly in front of me. Close to me. Too close. In my personal space, really.

I nodded slightly, feeling my skin heat up under his appraisal. Damn, he was tall, broad, and authoritative. I felt like I was at a huge disadvantage.

I was. Of course, I was; I was standing here in his space. Not just his space, his bedroom.

“Come; I’ll drive you.”

He stepped back and opened the door with a sweep of his hand, motioning for me to go on ahead of him. Confused, I walked out. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw my purse on a table beside a big brass bowl with multiple sets of keys in it. He grabbed a set of keys and passed me my purse. He reached into his front pants pocket and pulled out my phone and passed it to me, his finger brushing my hand as he did. He gave me a little smile, eyes sparkling with what looked like mischief. I swallowed hard.

Once outside, he hit a button on his keychain and one of four garage doors opened. He put his hand on the small of my back and led me toward it. I flinched at the contact, but let him lead me there. He opened the passenger door to a black convertible sports car for me and closed it after I was in and then got into the driver’s seat and proceeded to back out of the garage, turning around and then driving forward down the driveway, through the now opened gate.

Talk about uncomfortable! He was so nonchalant, and I knew this wasn’t a situation that called for nonchalance. The brother had locked me up, took my phone, treated me like a prisoner. The father had threatened me. I’d been surrounded by burly goons up until now. But Ice Cream Parlor Hottie, err Tommy, was being the exact opposite. Even still, I was more uncomfortable than even before because this was him. This was the guy who’s going to decide my fate. And he was going to mess with my head; I knew it. He’d already come into my work and flirted with me, which was obviously no coincidence, and now he was here, with all the power, and dropping me off at my house with my phone, like it was nothing, like it was no big deal.

I just sat, frozen, with my hands in my lap, absorbing the fact that control over my own life had been snatched away from me. He was inches away from me, of course, and I could smell his cologne, which smelled leathery, spicy, a bit musky. He smelled good, not like the guys I knew who practically bathed in Axe. This man wore just enough. He had this presence, this masculinity and authority I couldn’t even put into words. I had no idea what to say, where to even start. So, I just sat there.

Around fifteen minutes later, when we were in front of Rose and Cal’s, he finally broke the silence.

“Say nothing about any of this to the Crenshaws or anyone else,” he said, leaning over close, uncomfortably close, looking in my eyes. “I’ll pick you up here in three hours. And so you know, Tia, obedience is rewarded; defiance is punished. Remember that.” He winked at me and flashed his watch at me, showing me the time.

I’m sure I must’ve looked at him like he’d lost his mind. I didn’t know what to say, so I got out of the car, feeling like something slowly crawled up my spine. I felt his eyes on me, watching me, until I entered the house. I looked back before entering and the way he was staring at me made my blood run cold. Gorgeous or not, he was obviously a very dangerous man, and I had no frame of reference for this situation. I needed to think.

How would I get a chance to think, though? I had three hours in a house bustling with activity, people everywhere. Kids that live here, graduating kids, their family members, Rose, Cal, the grandparents. I heard Ruby shouting my name. I couldn’t tell any of them what was going on with me, no way.

“Where were you?” she cried out, running to me, her dark ringlets bouncing. Rose was behind her, looking expectantly and cautiously at me.

“I’m sorry, I…” I didn’t know how to finish; I almost started to cry.

Rose rushed over and threw her arms around me. “It’s okay darling, come; let’s get something to eat.” She directed me to the dining room table, which was covered with dishes of food, people swarming it. She probably just assumed my father had disappointed me. She didn’t push for answers.

God, but I loved this family. I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea what awaited me in three hours’ time, but I knew one thing for sure – fear. I was afraid.

Mia bounded over to us. “Did you find your hottie and take off on us for a romp?”

She and Bethany laughed but Ruby was eyeing me suspiciously. If they only knew.

Tommy Ferrano had come into my work and had checked me out, made himself known to me, had flirted with me, even. How long had this been planned for? Where was my dad now? I didn’t even have a phone number to call and ask him what was going on. The look on his face as I pulled away was of defeat but then two seconds later it was as if nothing happened. Drinking coffee, talking on the phone, not looking devastated. Was it all for show? And Mr. Ferrano had acted like the whole marker thing was just a ploy by Dad. What was the real story here? Who was I dealing with, really?

I excused myself to the bathroom and sent Dad a Facebook message from my phone, demanding he call or text me immediately.

Dad! What on earth? These guys say I have to marry the mafia guy’s son to clear your debt. MARRY! And if I don’t do it, we could be what? Dead? And if he doesn’t like me, I still don’t get to go home, they have ‘other’ options. WTF? Please tell me this is a prank, Dad. Write ASAP, come to the house (I’ll be here 3 hrs.), or call my cell! After that I guess I’m back at Tommy Ferrano’s house (but they may take my phone again). It’s on the corner of Jane St. and River Rd.

I knew, after Mom died, that Dad had dealings with less than desirables. Maybe he did before, too.

I remembered people coming to the door for money after Mom died. I remembered hiding in my room during the poker games in our apartment when things would sometimes get loud and out of control. More than once I’d seen Dad with bruises on his face and blackened eyes. I vividly recalled his jaw being wired shut after a night when he’d left me alone the whole night and came back in the morning, unable to talk. I’d also had guys bust in behind me when coming home from school one day and beat Dad up right in front of me, calling him a lowlife deadbeat. What was I in for here?

Dad had always been fascinated with the mob world. Like, crazy-fascinated. He and I used to watch mob movies and he’d give me a running commentary with facts throughout, about real-life mobsters, about parallels, about code of conduct, hierarchies, and so forth. He watched mob movies, mob documentaries, and the mafia came up in conversation all the time. I never got the fascination but remember my mother getting pissed about him letting me watch The Godfather when I was about six. I was here, but not enjoying my graduation party. Despite the laughter and the fun everyone else was having, I was in my own head, but couldn’t delve deep enough to ponder my fate because the reality might be too difficult to face. I just felt numb and disjointed.

I kept staring at the clock and time was flying. I knew he’d be back for me and didn’t know what’d be in store for me tonight. How would I tell everyone I wasn’t going to the dance? Tomorrow was the day I was supposed to be moving into Nono and Nona’s. My room here was already almost totally packed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Cal put his arm around me as Rose served everyone generous slices of the large, beautiful cake with our three smiling faces on it. Susie was smiling at me with a sad look on her face. She probably figured Dad had disappointed me, too.

“Mm hm.” I tried not to choke up.

“We are so proud of you. You’re always a part of our family, okay?” He kissed my temple and moved away.

I nodded. He wasn’t usually the touchy-feely sort. My heart sank. I stepped out onto the porch and saw that Tommy Ferrano was there, parked on the street, waiting for me. I didn’t know if he was just half an hour early or if he hadn’t even left. I didn’t know if I should go to the car or go back inside and enjoy what might be my last thirty minutes of freedom.

“Tia, come! Open your graduation gifts!” Ruby called from the family room.

Damn that douchebag Greg O’Connor. It pissed me off that he’d do this to his kid. Pop had already told me that he’d broken the news to Tia that she wasn’t just a marker to be held temporarily, like her father had said. She was now property of the Ferrano family. My property, if I wanted her.

When I’d seen her in my bedroom it took everything in me to not rip her clothes off, throw her on the bed, and take her. She’d been mine from the minute Pop had told me about her and it didn’t take long for me to feel it down to my bones. I hadn’t even been with anyone since seeing her face that first time. I had zero desire to touch anyone. Anyone but her. And because I typically had pussy at my disposal every single day and it’d been weeks, I was on fire for this girl. She’d be in big trouble if I couldn’t bring this need in me to heel.

I thought about taking my frustrations out on someone else, to lock it down, save her from me, but I didn’t want anyone else. I didn’t even think I’d get hard for anyone else because I was looking forward to having her that much.

She’d stood there looking surprised, then confused, then defiant, and I couldn’t wait to get her back to my place, to my bed, where we could explore a variety of her emotions together. Fear, submission, satisfaction.

Now she was on the porch of the Crenshaw house, staring at me sitting in my car. I tilted my seat back to show her I was in no hurry. She disappeared into the house.

I told Rose, Cal, and Ruby that I had something to take care of and that I didn’t know when I’d be back. Rose and Cal assumed it was just to do with my dad and, as usual, gave me space. Ruby pummeled me with questions.

“I can’t, Ruby. I can’t talk about it.”

“When will you be at the dance? Nick texted me and he really wants to see you.”

“I don’t know. I’ll try. But if I don’t come, don’t worry.”

“If you don’t come? If you don’t come! This is the last hurrah before you become a grown up. What do you mean if you don’t come?”

She was in hysterics. It was time for me to leave.

“I have to go,” I said, pulling her into a quick hug, “I’ll be back ASAP. Okay?”

Mia and Bethany were approaching, so I decided to make my exit tout de suite before the questions started coming at me rapid-fire.

Ruby looked so confused. It wasn’t like me to leave her in the dark. I hated to walk away, and I hoped she wouldn’t follow me. I didn’t know what to say. I was confused, myself!

I left the porch and walked toward the car. Tommy brought his seat back upright and stepped out to open the passenger door. I got in and when he closed it, I glanced over my shoulder at the house and saw Ruby and Rose watching me from the front door with confusion on their faces. Of course they were confused. I was getting into an expensive convertible with a man they’d never met.

I put my seatbelt on. Tommy turned the ignition and drove off. I sat, frozen, numb, not sure what to say or do. Then we approached Nick on the street, jaywalking, heading toward Rose and Cal’s house. He made eye contact with me and then his jaw dropped because Tommy sped up and then swerved to just miss hitting him. My eyes shot to Tommy who was staring straight ahead, a devious smirk on his face. Did he know who Nick was to me?

When we got back to my house, she followed me back upstairs to my bedroom without a word, until the door was closed. Then she dropped her purse on the floor and her fists balled up. Now she was shooting imaginary daggers at me from her eyes.

“Would you please tell me what’s going on?” she blurted. “The story my father told me is very different from what your father told me. And your father didn’t say much. You’ve gotta admit, this is not normal.”

I removed my suit jacket, dropped it on the bed, rolled up my sleeves, sat on the sofa that was in front of the bed, and propped my arms on the back of it. “Sit.”

“I’d rather not,” she said, staring at the ink on my left forearm. She swallowed hard. She was trying to hide that she was intimidated.

Her legs went on for miles in that tight black dress. She wore heels and damn, she had a smokin’ body. The temperature in the room rose as we sized one another up. I undid my top shirt button and moistened my lips.

“What’s going on here is this.” I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs, looking at her face. “Your father owes my father something and he’s paid that debt off using you as currency.” This was all I knew, although I did plan to get to the bottom of it. I shrugged like it was no big deal.

“Why would anyone pay a debt with a person? And I’m not my father’s property; he had no right to agree to those terms.”

I liked how she was looking me right in the eye. I smiled at her.

“So, your father arranged a marriage?” she continued, “And even more strange, you agreed. And my father agreed to this as well?”

I mulled the question over for a moment. “Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?”

She was on the verge of losing her temper. I wanted that. I wanted her to lose her temper so I could bring her in line. I could barely stand waiting for that moment of realization – that moment when she got an inkling of what she was in for.

“We’ve had no real resistance from your father. He handed you over willingly, knowing you might be married into my family and that you might not be. Even said it was a bit of a relief. My father would like to see me married before he retires and hands over the helm of the family business. I haven’t agreed to anything. He’s given you to me as an option.”

“What if I refuse? Wait, what do you mean a relief?”

“This isn’t up to you,” I answered.

She winced, “Um, yeah, it is. You can’t force someone to marry you.”

“Can’t I?” I gave her a smile.

Her forehead crinkled. “Then what if you don’t take that option?”

I tapped my index finger on my lips for a moment, assessing her body language. She shuffled uncomfortably, no doubt dying to get out of those heels and away from me. I didn’t want her out of the shoes. I wanted her in them, them and nothing else. I wanted those heels up behind my ears.

“Then I’d get to decide what happens to you instead.”

She let out a slow breath. “And what would that be?”

I smiled, “Could be any number of things.”

“Like?”

I snickered. She was trying to mask her anger and fear underneath a bit of snark, but she was failing.

“Could I be… killed?” she asked me.

I raised my brows. “Or worse.”

Confusion swept over her face. She didn’t know what I meant. She doesn’t know there are things worse than death. She doesn’t know that many women sold into slavery wished for death because of the hell that was their existence.

“So you’re having trouble finding someone to marry?” She eyed me up and down as if I was something she scraped off her shoe. “That’s why you’re doing this?”

“Not exactly.”

He sat on that couch staring at me like he wanted to have me for breakfast. He was, to me, what a cunning devil might look like if he were disguised as a handsome man. Oozing with sex appeal and danger. And deception. And more danger. And arrogance.

He’d come into the ice cream parlor on my last day there and flirted with me. Today, he looked like the same guy, but acted different – almost like he was the evil twin. His eyes and his overall demeanor were vastly different. The light and playfulness in his eyes wasn’t there. There was intensity instead, something I could only describe as a sort of darkness, or evil.

His body was broad and muscular, but not bulky. His arms were muscled and because his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, I could see swirly tribal-looking tattoos on his forearm. His jaw was tight as he assessed me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know if I should try to reason with him, to plead for him to let me go, or to sit and shut up, and wait see what his next move would be.

I couldn’t take this pain in my feet any longer. I sat on the bed, leaned over, and loosened my shoes. My feet were freaking killing me. I wasn’t used to walking in heels this high. I’d wanted to look grown up for my high school grad and they definitely helped with that, adding to my 5’4” height. I let them dangle and one fell to the floor. I flexed my toes in relief. I looked up and he was staring at my legs.

I wanted to ask ‘what, exactly?’ again but suspected I wouldn’t get a straight answer, so I said, “I’m, uh, I’m expected tonight at a graduation party. And tomorrow I’m supposed to move into my own apartment, and–”

He cut me off. “Obviously, things have changed.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“If there’s anything important from your old life, it can be picked up. Or we don’t look back and I replace everything.” He was still looking at my legs.

“So, that means…” I wasn’t getting it. Did this mean he wanted to marry me? He didn’t even know me!

“Let’s see how this goes, call it a trial engagement,” he said, answering my unspoken question. “There are some ground rules. I’ll fill you in on those shortly. Right now, I have something to do. It’s best you stay here until I go over the rules with you.”

“Wait, trial engagement? What if I refuse?”

He snickered and then raised a brow at me challengingly. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

I believed that. A chill crawled up my spine. “So, I’m your fiancée now? Just like that?”

He grinned. “Just like that.” He got up, and left. He just left me sitting on the bed.

I heard a text alert on my phone. I pulled it out of my purse. Nick.

Can’t wait to c u tonite ;) U looked hot today. So who the fuck was that asshole in the convertible?

The door swung back open, and Tommy snatched my phone from my hand. “You can have a phone after we go over the rules.” His eyes were a bit crazed as he looked at the screen and then put my phone into his pocket. “You won’t be seeing Nick again.”

The door shut.

Trial engagement? Based on what, on an order from a mafia godfather? No romantic candlelit dinner with a guy who loved me, down on one knee in candlelight, telling me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. Nope. Instead I got a forced engagement with underlying threats. Lovely. What now, though? How could I get out of this without getting hurt or killed or without Dad getting hurt or killed?

Her phone rang a little while later with the name, “Mia” on it. I ignored it. Then a text came through from the name “Bethany” with “Where the bleep r u and who was THAT who you left with?” I shut it off. My own phone rang immediately afterwards. I glanced at the screen and debated rejecting the call, but shook my head and answered, “Yeah, Pop?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Who do you think will win the playoffs? Shit, what do you think I mean? What about the girl?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I answered.

“Of course, you have, Tommy. Please. Like I don’t know you. You tell me you really haven’t decided and I’ll be–”

I cut him off, “Pop, give me five minutes, will ya?”

“I’ll give you a few days. Dinner Sunday at my house. If you’re keeping her, bring her with you. Then we’ll celebrate. If you come alone…well…”

I had things to do. The sooner they were done, the sooner I’d be back in my bedroom with her.

“Gotta go, Pop.”

“Okay, my boy,” he said, and I could almost see his cocky smile through the phone.

I ended the call.

I was pacing. What else could I do? I was in this bedroom, waiting for him to come and tell me what his rules were. Rules. Pff. I couldn’t believe this.

A million thoughts flitted through my brain, and I couldn’t think straight. All I could do was pace back and forth and back and forth. I could try to walk out and leave, but what would happen if I did? All the scary dudes and the gates and everything made me think it’d just be a waste of my time. But there had to be a way out of this. Could I reason with this guy?

I stepped into the bedroom a few hours later. She was in my bed, watching TV. The sight of this girl in my bed stirred my sex drive big time. She’d taken her hair down and it hung down her back like a glossy curtain. Her shoes were on the floor; she had her feet tucked under herself. She was against my pillows, hugging one against herself. Her eyes were a little puffy, most of her make-up gone. She’d been crying.

Her eyes widened at the sight of me as I strolled to the other side of the bed and sat down beside her. I could see she was trying to stay frozen in place but she was failing. Trembling. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a heart-shaped ring box. I set it down between us. She stared at the box like it might bite her.

“You’re not ready to wear it yet, that’s fine. I’ll put it on the table. We’ll discuss later. Our engagement’s contingent on several things; we’ll see how it goes. In the meantime, there are a few rules. Want a drink? We can discuss.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. A tear slid down her cheek. She was chewing her juicy-looking bottom lip. I was so fucking turned on right now.

Before I could calculate the move, the back of my hand touched the tear. She winced. Involuntarily, I groaned low in my throat. It must’ve sounded like a growl to her. Goosebumps rose on her arms. I pulled my hand back, got up, then walked to the wet bar, dropping the ring box on the dresser on the way.

My room was pretty self-contained with a small fridge, a fully stocked bar, an office area, sitting area, ensuite bathroom, and doors that led to a balcony that had a hot tub and stairs that led down to the backyard where there was a pool and patio. Pop had bought me this house and presented it to me a few months ago on my 29th birthday as a surprise. I had the money to buy my own house, with cash even, but had been content living in the condo. In hindsight, I should’ve known that this, the engagement, was the next step. It had five other bedrooms, quarters for staff, and a two-bedroom pool house. Why did I need all this space unless I was starting a family? I was still getting used to having people around all the time.

He’d been inching me toward taking the next step and now was gifting me a bride so I could easily step in to be handed the reins. I was thinking it’d be my wedding and his retirement party all on the same day.

I poured two glasses of red wine and handed her one. She now sat with her legs dangling over the edge of my bed with a look on her face that told me she was trying to hold it together despite wanting to fall apart. This trait would serve her well as my wife. Through her black stockings I could see that her toes were painted red, the same as her fingertips. The same as the shade her lips had been when she arrived. Her lipstick was gone. I could barely restrain myself. I couldn’t wait to taste those lips and make those toes curl.

“Come.” I grabbed her hand and led her to the sofa. She pulled her hand away but sat beside me.

“It’s unfortunate that your father put you in this situation,” I said, “And I have no respect for what he did. But that said, this is the situation. You were given to me as a gift. That makes you mine.”

She blanched. My heartrate picked up pace with excitement; I wouldn’t show her that excitement yet, though.

“So, it’s important to me that you understand and follow my rules. Not following these rules is dangerous. Deadly.”

She kept her eyes focused on the carpet.

“Rule number one, I own you.”

Shock flashed across her face as her eyes met mine. I felt it in the groin, so I said it again.

“This means exactly what it sounds like. I own you. You’re mine. Mine to do what I want with. This means you obey my orders. If not, you face consequences. Being mine means that if I want you marrying me and I choose to give you everything that’s mine, that’s what happens. If it means keeping you in my bedroom and using you however I want, never letting you see the light of day, that’s what it means. If it means shipping you off somewhere and selling you to a pimp in Bangkok or Tijuana who wants to turn you into a five-dollar whore that’s what it means. You need to understand the gravity here and come to terms with this as soon as possible. The sooner the better. Any privilege or comfort you get is because I allow it. I can take it away. All of it. Do you understand?”

She didn’t answer. She looked down at the floor and her chin started quivering.

“The concept of ownership might be foreign to you but it’s a concept you need to learn fast. Tia, look at me.”

She looked up and what I saw in her eyes was pure and utter defiance. Perfect. A muscle in my cheek involuntarily twitched. I wasn’t ready to reveal all my cards yet, but she needed a glimpse. And I wanted to push her, see what she’d do.

I stood up and continued, “Because I own you, I’ll do what I want to you. Since you chose not to answer my question, I’ll reiterate: if that means that I want you to wear my ring and have my babies with the run of this house, you’ll do it. If it means you simply stay tied to my bed until I get tired of fucking you, so be it. I’m in charge. You obey me, things go well. You defy me? They don’t.”

Fear flickered in her eyes for a beat, but she continued to stare up at me, right into my eyes, trying to be brave. I liked it. I liked it a lot. Yeah, I’m a sick fucker. And the only thing scarier than a sick fucker is a sick fucker with power. If I was going to have to marry to get all the power I’d damn well get as much pleasure as possible from it. Fear and defiance rolled up in one? She was perfect. Maybe that’s why I’d waited so long. This was coming for me. Her.

Yeah, Dare was right; Pop did do good with this choice for me. In the moment I was feeling something new. Bliss? She was mine and I felt it deep inside. John Lewis was right about the rush here. I’d never felt this level of excitement, this sense of ownership with a woman before. I was standing in front of her, towering over her, and I was going to wipe that defiance right off her face.

“Do you understand?”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed.

I snickered and continued,

“I’ll let it sink in for a moment, then. Rule number two, you reveal nothing to anyone about anything that you see, hear, or suspect to do with my business activities, my family, my personal life, or my preferences. You don’t discuss me with people outside of my family or my house and you don’t disclose information about me or what happens in this house or especially in this bedroom with anyone. The rules are simple. I’m in charge and you keep your mouth shut. The rest we will figure out as we go. I hope you’re a smart enough girl that I don’t need to lay out consequences. Hearing about who I am, you probably have an idea of what I’m capable of. If you don’t, you will soon enough. You shouldn’t test your limits with me. I’m not a patient guy and I like doling out punishments. A lot.”

She closed her eyes. Now she was trembling not so subtly. Fuck, my cock was straining against my pants. I sipped my wine, put it down, then strode over to close the blinds on the doors that led to the deck. When I turned back around to look at her, she sat holding the wineglass, eyes squeezed shut tight. Then she took a deep breath, looked up, and stared me right in the eye. The girl hadn’t said anything yet, but she had balls. I could see it. I looked forward to some sparring.

I unbuttoned my shirt the rest of the way and shrugged to let it drop. Her eyes never wavered from mine, but I saw her swallow hard. I sauntered toward her.

She shakily raised the glass of wine to her lips and tipped it back and drank it all at once. Then she slammed the glass down on the coffee table and stood. She eyed me from head to toe to head again. It made my heartrate pick up. She was ready to fight with me.

I summoned as much inner strength as I could muster, despite wanting to cower and weep, and I glared at him. I glared hard.

“If you think for one fucking second that you can just steal my life from me you’ve got another–”

He cut me off, physically. In an instant, he lunged from several feet away to in front of me, and then his hand was on my throat. He used his grip to press me against a wall. He towered over me, staring down at me, breathing heavily, his lips an inch from my temple. He wasn’t squeezing, but the grip was possessive, making a point.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he said slowly in a low and scary voice, his eyes burning into me.

His body was flush against mine, and his erection poked me in the abdomen. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

Holy shit. I forgot how to breathe for a second.

I finally gulped against his hand and tried to regain my bearings. I was breathless, totally surprised, and pretty much petrified. I tried to slink away from him, but he tightened the grip on my throat just a little. My hands came up and I tried to pull on his wrist to get him to let go. He wasn’t cutting off my air supply, but it was firm and scary. His jaw tightened. My nails dug into his wrist until I drew blood. His eyes darted down and when he saw the blood, I saw something shift in his gaze.

“I was about to dare you to give me a reason, but it looks like you just did.”

He let go of my throat and hauled me by the arm to the bed, then threw me down on it so I was on my stomach. He instantly climbed onto me, and pinned my arms above my head. I let out a groaning protest and tried to struggle. I felt his dick digging into my ass. Oh no. Please no.

He let one hand go and caught both of my wrists in the other hand, re-pinning them to the bed. His free hand ripped my dress upwards so that the part that was covering my bottom tore. Humiliation, mortification, the plethora of emotions flooded through me.

Underneath that dress was a pair of black lace stay-up stockings. I also had on a black lace thong so my dress wouldn’t have underwear lines. I never thought when I’d put them on they’d put me in peril. I thought, I’m about to become an adult, I’m going to dress like one. Now I regretted that with every fiber of my being because it meant that Tommy Ferrano was looking at my might-as-well-be bare ass, looking at lingerie on me, and I was helpless to do anything about it. I was totally pinned.

“Look at this…” He palmed at my rear end and snapped the thong quickly.

“No! Don’t!” I screeched. His palm was hot. Or maybe my skin was hot. I didn’t know which. He rubbed it for a second.

His mouth was right against my ear and hot breath tickled me, so I squirmed, and then he growled low in his throat. “You’re a very naughty girl telling me no.” Then his hand wedged under my hips and he cupped me between the legs. I gasped. I felt a finger dip into the panties and touch my opening. Oh no. God, no.

He groaned. “How come you’re wet down here, Tia?” He let out a little chuckle, a supremely pleased one. “Could it be? Do you enjoy being overpowered?”

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, and held my breath. His finger circled leisurely and then I felt him gyrate ever so slightly against my behind.

“You do. Fuck. And you’re all mine.” His tongue was now tracing from my earlobe up the ridge of my ear. “How did I get this lucky?”

“Not karma, that’s for sure, asshole. And I will never, do you hear me, never ever be yours.” I grunted this, trying to squirm away. Why did I say that? Why was I provoking him?

I was infuriated at the idea of my future being ripped away from me and crumpled up like a sheet of paper. I was furious with my father for doing this or for doing nothing about this. I was mad at myself for not being stronger, not finding a way to get this guy off of me.

I was also mad because he was right, I was wet down there. And I didn’t understand why my body was reacting like this. Yes, this was the super-hot guy from the ice cream parlor who made me melt when he tongued that cherry provocatively. And okay, this was the same guy I’d rubbed myself thinking about that same night and the next night, imagining being under his body. But I imagined nothing like this.

I’d been wrong, so wrong, to fantasize about this guy. This was a dangerous man who had me pinned to his bed, who’d grabbed my throat, ripped my graduation dress, who threatened me. Who’d said he owned me. Who’d said scary things that were a nightmare come true to any woman.

“You’re disgusting,” I spat.

His finger left and his weight was no longer on me but then he slapped me hard on the ass. I shrieked. Then he slapped my ass again and then stuck his finger in me again. I frowned and held my breath.

“Oh, but you are mine,” he whispered, “I like your spirit, Tia. And I look forward to breaking it.”

Despair crested over me at those words. He let go of me then and he was off the bed. I whimpered, devastation filling me, but I stayed still. He stood behind me; I could hear him breathing heavily.

A long moment passed, and then I heard a zipper. Oh no. No, no. I scrambled up and tried to bolt for the door. He was fast. He caught me by the arm and walked me back to the bed and pushed me down.

“I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, Tia,” he said, watching me scramble up to the headboard. “You can relax.”

He kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks and then dropped his suit pants, leaving him in just a tight pair of black boxer briefs. He fetched the dark blue shirt he’d been wearing earlier and tossed it at me. It landed beside me. He looked so calm. How could he be so calm with what he was doing to me? What kind of sick psycho was I dealing with?

“You can sleep in that. Hurry back.” Smirking, he motioned with his chin toward what I’d already discovered was the bathroom door on the opposite end of the room. He stood there, arms folded. He looked even better without clothes than I’d imagined, not that it was comforting – not one bit. His tattoo traveled from just above his wrist up his arm and over his shoulder. He was strong, muscular, someone I’d have a lot of trouble fighting off.

He eyed me hungrily. “Like what you see, Tia?”

I shook my head. “Not at all.” I grabbed the shirt and headed for the bathroom, hearing him laugh at me as I closed the door.

I sat on the floor against the door for the longest time, crying face buried in my knees, ass on the cold floor. I heard a door. Maybe he was gone.

I took off my ripped dress, removed my stockings, which now had a big snag in them, kept my bra and underwear on, and put the blue dress shirt on. I caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked horrible. Tear tracks and black eye makeup streaks on my cheeks, my eyes all red, my hair a disheveled mess.

I washed my face with hot water and a fluffy white washcloth that had been on the vanity and then hung my clothes up on a hook beside the shower stall. This bathroom was luxurious. The whole master suite was. And I couldn’t wait until I could try to forget it existed.

The shirt smelled like his cologne. It felt foreign to have that scent on me. I felt bile rise in my throat at the idea of it, the idea of him clothing me in things that smelled like him. It seemed so… primitive.

Taking two big breaths, I hesitantly stepped back out into the room, hoping by some miracle that he’d left. He hadn’t. The lights flicked off, but not before I caught a glimpse of his form in the bed. He was sitting up, the blankets down around his waist. He was waiting for me.

I flicked the lamp off a second after she came out. When I saw her wearing my shirt, I thought I’d combust. I needed to turn the light off to regain my composure. She looked edible. I decided that second that it’d be a rule that she’d sleep either naked, with me wrapped around her, or in the clothes I’d worn that day, so she’d smell like me, either way.

Where these sudden possessive feelings had come from was a mystery. But the second I decided to accept her as a gift I instantly became obsessed with the idea of having someone who was mine. Just mine. It didn’t make sense because I could easily find someone who wanted to be mine, but the minute Pop told her she was mine, something in me had changed. I never wanted that before. That I’d wanted her to smell like she was mine must be some primal instinct.

“New rule. Rule number three: you either wear something I’ve worn when you get ready for bed, or you sleep nude. Get in.” I moved to the center of the bed and lifted the covers to welcome her into them. She stood, frozen in her tracks.

“Do I have to come get you?” I asked.

She stood there, not moving, so I flicked the lamp back on and got out of the bed. She backed up, holding her palm out at me.

“Can’t I please sleep alone? I don’t know you.”

“No. It’s time to get to know me. Don’t worry; I’m not fucking you. Yet. We’re just sleeping together.” I loved that she was saying please.

She let out a whimper and covered her mouth to try to stifle it. Gone was the defiance she’d had in her eyes. She was crumbling.

“Get in. Or I’ll put you here myself.”

She shook her head at me, blowing her hair out of her eyes. I reached for her hand. She flinched, didn’t take it, and then walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, staying as close to the edge of it as she could. She did a karate chop move down the middle of the blankets. She was trying to draw a boundary line. Fucking adorable.

I got back in and slid over, obliterating her Berlin wall, then climbed on top of her. I pinned her wrists above her head and nuzzled into the crook of her neck. I ran my nose up the length of her throat until my mouth was at her ear. She smelled amazing. She smelled like me, but like a woman, too. Her throat smelled like vanilla and cherries. Of all things. She stiffened under me.

He ran his nose up and down my neck, burying it in my hair. His hand travelled up my leg and then it landed on my hip. He dug his fingers in and then his nose trailed down my throat and across the opening of the shirt. He undid a button and then another button… with his teeth.

“Please don’t,” I whispered into the dark, pulling my hands from his grip and putting them out to stop him. He pinned them above my head, this time tighter. My eyes were adjusting. Then his nose was in my cleavage.

“Big day for you today, huh?” I felt the hum of his lips against the skin between my breasts. If I weren’t so petrified, I’d have been turned on. He was obviously attempting to be seductive.

“You could say that.” I tried to be sarcastic, but my voice came out in barely more than a whisper.

He lifted his head and let go of my wrists. His fingertips grazed my lower lip and I winced.

“Relax, I’ve said I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” he said to me, his voice so deep it felt like it vibrated inside me. Then he rolled over onto his back. I tried to stay as still as possible but was shaking like a leaf.

He continued, “But I want something tonight from you.”

I winced again, trying to stop my mind and heart from racing. “What?”

“I want you to crawl into my arms and I want you to relax, like you wanna be here. If you can do that for me tonight, sleep curled up against me, I won’t fuck you.” He stopped for a moment and then continued, “If you don’t do what I ask, you’re getting fucked hard and rough.” He put his hands, fingers laced, behind his head, flexing his biceps and looking at me expectantly.

“You’re crazy.” I breathed. What a maniac. This was messed up!

He reached over and flicked the lamp back off. “Well?”

I took a deep breath. “You’re, like, fucked in the head, aren’t you?”

Stupid, Tia. Why would I say something like that to him?

“Yeah, and I have a gun,” he announced. “Who gives the crazy guy a gun? Oh yeah, and a goodnight kiss; I want that, too. Keep me waiting and my list of demands may keep growing.”

I was wide-eyed. Gob smacked. I heard an impatient-sounding huff and then I was gob smacked and scared. I got the impression he wanted me to give him a reason to take me against my will and / or show me his gun. I wanted neither, so I scampered over to him and then hesitated. He pulled me into an embrace, my head falling onto his chest. Both of his arms were tight around me. He kissed the top of my head and his palm slowly slid down my back until it rested on my rear end. He was hard, all over.

“Relax,” he whispered against my hair and then he kissed my forehead.

“Get your hand off my...” I started and he moved his warm hand up to my waist before I could finish the threat that hadn’t quite formed on my tongue yet, pulling the shirt up with it. I could hear him breathing hard. I could feel his heartbeat and it felt like it was racing. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and gulped. How bizarre to have my head on the chest of the man from the ice cream parlor, the man I’d had on my mind the past few days. But this wasn’t that guy, that guy was from my fantasy. This guy looked just like him, but looks were where similarities ended. He’d behaved in a way I’d never imagined. The fact that this guy had taken ‘ownership’ of me and had forced me to lay here with him was repulsive.

“Don’t tell me not to touch what’s mine again. You get a pass tonight because of the day you’ve had, but don’t make the mistake of thinking whether or not we fuck is anything but my decision to make.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. This was a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. He started to stroke my hair.

“No. Don’t,” I said.

“Tell me no or say don’t one more time and the deal is off, Tia.”

His hand trailed back down to my ass. He drummed his fingers on it, letting me know he was waiting for me to protest. I clamped my mouth shut. I believed him, so I made myself shut up and stay still. Every muscle in my body wanted to sprint, to run, to scream, to fight, to kick, to scratch, but I just stayed there, trembling.

“Now kiss me,” he said.

I chewed my cheek and kept my eyes shut tight, like that’d help.

“Naw, I’ll kiss you. I’ve been dying to taste these lips since that day I walked into that ice cream shop.”

He flipped me over onto my back and then he was on me, his lips were on my lips, his body hard against me. He touched my lips softly with his at first and his lips were soft but strong. He got my bottom lip between his lips and he sucked on it. I couldn’t breathe. He made an “Mm” sound against my mouth, then said, “You didn’t kiss back, but I’ll give you a pass tonight.”

Then he flipped back so that I was again on top of him. His hands were on me, one on my lower back and the other in my hair. My cheek was against his chest, his legs were parted, and our pelvises were touching. He was rock-hard. If I could see myself, I’m sure that I’d see that my eyes were bugging out of my head.

His fingers massaged my scalp; he was playing with my hair a little. After a long moment of silence, I started to take stock of the day. The day that I’d been so excited about for so long had taken such a turn, one I wouldn’t have guessed would happen in a million years, a trillion years. Right now, I should be at a party, getting tipsy. I should be cheers’ing with my friends about the fact that we’d made it through high school and should be comforting poor Ruby who had another year before she could go off to college.

I should be getting geared up to move out on my own, buy my own groceries, have full control over the remote. Living in a foster home filled to the brim with kids meant you almost never had control of the TV. It’d always been a democracy there where regular compromises had to be made on what would be watched. It meant if you didn’t tackle the bag of cookies on grocery shopping day the only snacks around until next week was fruit. It meant hustle and bustle and loudness, occasional spats, frequent cold showers because someone else used up all the hot, but lots and lots of hijinks, and so much laughter.

I should be excited about the next chapter in my life. Another chapter was starting, though. Only, it was one I hadn’t anticipated. Instead of having the night I should be having I was in the arms of a criminal. My life was at stake. My father’s life was at stake. Either I got to be married to this criminal, got to be his unwilling sex slave, or got shipped off to be someone else’s sex slave.

If anyone had told me that morning I’d spend the night in the bed and in the arms of Ice Cream Parlor Hottie in his hacienda style house, I’d have told them they were nuts, but the very idea of it would’ve melted my panties off. I’d never have been able to predict what’d wound up transpiring.

I guess the moral of the story was, Be Careful What You Wish For.

I was exhausted in mind and body. I had somehow gone from trembling to completely still against him. He was holding me in strong arms like I was something precious. What a contradiction!

His hand occasionally moved either up or down my back and every once in a while, I’d feel his lips or fingers moving in my hair. A whimper involuntarily escaped my lips and then he was pulling my leg up at the knee to drape it over him. I was pretty much totally on top of him, trying hard to ignore the erection poking me against my inner thigh. I tried to ignore what was happening despite the fact that it was scaring the heck out of me. I worried that the longer I lay here awake the more likely he would do something sexual. I decided I should try to sleep. I just wanted this day over. I had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but today had kicked me upside the head and it needed to just be done.

I cried softly, tears dropping onto his naked chest. He just stroked my head and my back as if he was the solution, not the problem. Then he took my right hand and held it against his chest over his heart, not letting go. His left hand was moving up and down my back. My left hand was at my side, clenched into a fist, my cheek on his bare chest.

I don’t know how long I lay there crying on him in a puddle of tears while he stroked my hair and my back and rhythmically stroked my fingers with his thumb on his chest against his loudly beating heart, but eventually I felt my eyes droop. This beast was comforting me by holding me and stroking me and somehow it was working. I guessed it was working because it had to work. My fist loosened and my breathing started to even out. I had to act like I had no problem lying with my body on his or else he’d take me against my will. Or maybe I just shut down out of being totally, completely, devastatingly overwhelmed.

She felt so fucking good in my arms. I was a ‘wham, bam, fuck off, ma’am’ kind of guy. Not one to spoon a chick after I fucked her, not one to snuggle up with. Not ever. I’d always just left after sex, never subscribed to the whole ‘aftercare’ bit after a scene. Why did this feel so good, so right? Why did I make this deal with her tonight? The answer in my head was crystal clear. Because she was mine. I hadn’t even fucked her yet, but she was already mine; I knew deep down that it was my job to look after her so that’s what I wanted to do. Right now, holding her, her sleeping on me, felt so fucking right. I was jumping ahead to a result I wanted, but that I wasn’t patient enough to wait to earn.

I was surprised at myself, my actions. Earlier today I couldn’t wait to fuck her. Couldn’t wait to tear those panties down and plunge into her, holding her by the hair while I showed her who she belonged to. When she got mouthy with me I wanted to haul her over my knee and spank her until she begged for mercy. Now, I just wanted to comfort her. I wanted that even though I knew being here with me was the source of her tears.

Her life had shattered into a million pieces by that douchebag of a father of hers. Right now, I just wanted her to stop trembling and fall asleep in my arms. I wanted those stress lines off her pretty face. I felt a warm tingling in me as I heard her breathing even out. A while later, I touched her cheek and when I did, she, obviously asleep, nuzzled into me, like she did wanna be here. I let out a long breath and closed my eyes, deciding that while Greg O’Connor had paid his debt to my father, now he owed me something. I gritted my teeth. I was gonna make him pay dearly for doing this to her.