Mafia Don’s Secret Captive (Mafia Don’s Lies #1)

Chapter 1

Vittorio

Rain pelted the concrete in sheets, turning the narrow alleyway into a miniature river. I stood motionless in the shadows, watching her stumble through puddles that reflected the city's neon glow. The tip from Antonio's man had been precise—she'd be here, running, desperate.

Sophie. The woman Antonio had been obsessing over for months.

Her fiery red hair was plastered to her face, her clothes soaked through. Even in this state—frantic, breathless—there was something magnetic about her. She clutched something small in her white-knuckled grip. The flash drive she'd stolen from Antonio's safe.

Interesting. Not many people could breach Antonio's security. Even fewer would dare.

She pressed herself against a brick wall, chest heaving. Water streamed down her face—rain or tears, I couldn't tell. She fumbled with her phone, fingers trembling as she dialed. The screen illuminated her freckled skin with pale blue light.

"Pick up, pick up," she whispered, voice breaking. "Goddammit, pick up!"

No answer. She tried again, more desperate this time.

I remained perfectly still. Patient. This wasn't my first hunt.

She slammed her fist against the wall, a small sound of pain escaping her lips. "Fuck!" The word echoed off the narrow walls. She slid down slightly, composure cracking. "He lied. All this time…"

So she'd discovered whatever truth Antonio had been hiding. That explained the theft, the escape. Antonio had told everyone she was safe with him, protected. His prized possession.

The thought curled my lip. Antonio always did treat his women like trophies.

Sophie pushed herself upright, squaring her shoulders. She tucked the flash drive into her bra and started moving again, faster now, heading toward the street.

Time to intercept.

I circled around through a connecting alley, signaling my driver with a quick text. As Sophie emerged from the alleyway, my black Bentley glided to the curb, cutting off her escape. Perfect timing.

I stepped out, rain immediately soaking through my custom suit. I didn't flinch. Her eyes widened as she registered my presence—recognition, then fear, then defiance flashing across her face in rapid succession.

"Vittorio." My name left her lips like a curse.

I advanced slowly, deliberately. "Ms. Winters."

She backed away, glancing frantically for an escape route. "If Antonio sent you—"

"Antonio doesn't know I'm here."

Confusion flickered across her features. She raised her chin, a spark of fire behind those eyes despite her shivering form. "I'm not going back to him."

"I never said you were."

Her eyes narrowed, calculating. Smart girl. She knew enough about me to be wary. As Antonio's Underboss—second-in-command of the Ricci organization and his brother—my reputation preceded me.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

I closed the distance between us in two strides. Before she could react, I'd secured her wrists in handcuffs I'd been concealing.

"What the fuck!" She struggled, surprisingly strong for her size. "Let me go!"

I gripped her upper arm, firm but not bruising. "You're mine now."

The fight in her eyes intensified. She spat at my feet. "I belong to no one."

I almost smiled. Almost. Instead, I opened the car door and guided her inside with firm pressure. She resisted, but physics was on my side. Once she was in, I slid in beside her, nodding to my driver.

"The estate," I instructed.

Sophie shifted as far from me as the backseat allowed. "If you think Antonio will pay for my return—"

"I don't want his money."

"Then what?" Her voice cracked slightly. "What could you possibly want with me?"

I turned to face her fully, studying her features. Soaked and disheveled as she was, her beauty remained striking. But it wasn't her appearance that interested me.

"That flash drive, for starters."

Her hand instinctively moved toward her chest, confirming its location. "There's nothing on it that concerns you."

"I'll be the judge of that."

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence. I could feel her watching me, assessing, planning. Good. I preferred a strategic mind to blind panic.

The rain had eased to a drizzle by the time we reached my estate outside the city.

The wrought iron gates opened silently as we approached, revealing the winding driveway flanked by ancient oak trees.

The house itself stood three stories tall, old-world Italian architecture blended with modern security features invisible to the untrained eye.

Sophie's expression remained carefully neutral, but I caught the momentary widening of her eyes. My home tended to have that effect.

I escorted her inside, past the marble foyer with its soaring ceiling, down the hallway to my private study. The handcuffs were becoming an inconvenience, so I removed them once we were inside. She immediately rubbed her wrists, though I knew they weren't tight enough to leave marks.

"Sit," I gestured to one of the leather chairs opposite my desk.

"I'd rather stand."

I shrugged, moving to pour myself a glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the sideboard. "Suit yourself."

She paced like a caged animal, taking in the room—the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the massive desk, the security monitors discreetly positioned in one corner. Her gaze lingered on the door, measuring distance, calculating odds.

"Don't," I warned, not looking up from my drink.

"Don't what?"

"Don't try to run. This entire property is secured. You wouldn't make it past the gardens."

She crossed her arms. "Why didn't you take me back to Antonio?"

I took a measured sip of whiskey, letting the burn slide down my throat. "Perhaps I'm curious why his woman would steal from him and run."

"I'm not his woman anymore." The vehemence in her voice was genuine.

"He seems to think otherwise."

"Antonio thinks a lot of things that aren't true." She stopped pacing, fixing me with a direct stare. "Like how he didn't have anything to do with the ambassador's daughter."

My hand stilled, glass halfway to my lips.

That particular operation had been carefully contained.

The ambassador's daughter had been returned unharmed, the ransom paid, and all evidence erased.

Antonio's involvement had been suspected but never confirmed—certainly not in any documents that would be accessible to someone like Sophie.

"Interesting accusation," I said carefully, setting my glass down.

"It's not an accusation when you have proof." A hint of triumph flashed in her eyes.

I moved toward her slowly, deliberately. She held her ground even as I towered over her, her chin tilting up to maintain eye contact.

"And what else might be on that flash drive, Sophie?"

"Enough to destroy him and half the organization." No hesitation. No fear. Just cold determination.

"And you came to me because…?"

"I didn't come to you. You kidnapped me."

I allowed myself a small smile. "A fortunate coincidence, then."

We circled each other like predators, neither willing to show weakness. She was soaking wet, smaller than me by a foot, and completely in my power—yet she radiated defiance.

"I want to leave," she stated firmly.

"With information that valuable? I think not."

"The information is my insurance. My freedom."

I stepped closer, into her personal space. She didn't back away. "Your freedom is now at my discretion."

Her breathing quickened, but her gaze remained steady. "You can't keep me here."

"I can do whatever I want." I reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. Her skin was cold from the rain. "That's the difference between us, Sophie. You're playing games you don't understand."

A pulse jumped in her throat. Fear? Anger? Something else entirely? Her eyes darkened slightly.

"I understand more than you think," she whispered.

The tension between us shifted, charged with something beyond the power struggle. I stepped back, regaining control of the moment.

"You need dry clothes. Food. Rest." I moved to the sideboard again. "But first, water. You're dehydrated."

I filled a glass from the pitcher and offered it to her. She hesitated, eyes flickering between the glass and my face.

"It's just water."

She took it reluctantly. "Why would I trust anything from you?"

"Because if I wanted to harm you, I wouldn't need to be subtle about it."

Logic seemed to win over suspicion. She took a small sip, then another. I watched as she drained the glass, her throat working as she swallowed.

It took less than a minute. Her movements became sluggish, her eyes struggling to focus. Understanding dawned on her face.

"You drugged me," she breathed, swaying slightly.

I caught her as her knees buckled, one arm around her waist, the other supporting her head. "You'll thank me later."

Her body went limp against mine, surprisingly light. I lifted her easily, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. Her head lolled against my chest, red hair spilling over my arm.

Antonio called her difficult, but she was… something else. Something that made my control feel thinner than it should.

I carried her through the house to the east wing guest suite. The room was luxurious but secure—reinforced windows, doors that locked from the outside. I laid her carefully on the bed, taking a moment to study her face in repose. Without the mask of defiance, she looked younger, vulnerable.

My hand moved to her chest, retrieving the flash drive from its hiding place. It was warm from her body heat, small but potentially devastating. Antonio had no idea what he'd just lost—not just the information, but her. Whatever she'd discovered had turned his most prized possession against him.

I slipped the drive into my breast pocket, where it sat like a weight against my heart.

“My brother has no idea what he just lost,” I murmured, turning to leave her sleeping form behind.