Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Selene
I’m daydreaming about…him and… his significant member.
Ugh.
When I dated Fernandez, none of this ever happened, although Fernandez was an idiot from university who couldn’t withstand the pressure of my family dynamics, so he chickened out.
He was cute, sweet, nerdy, and well, not really my type, but he was the best I could get with Dad’s constant scrutinizing eyes on me. He was my first and only boyfriend.
Fernandez didn’t know how to fuck me into oblivion like Cortez. He couldn’t get me wet just by the mere sound of his voice or his aura. And he certainly didn’t spank me and fuck me stupid until I lost all shred of dignity and—
My lips curl into a distasteful frown. I’ve lost my senses, too. That’s the only reason I’m daydreaming about some unrepentant asshole who forced me into an uncomfortable living arrangement with stupid rules.
But you brought him into your mess first.
That thought doesn’t help the irritation bubbling in my chest, so I yank my hair and let out an inaudible scream. I’m losing my sanity. I know I’ll go even more insane by the next morning if I don’t do something besides sleeping and waking in this damn room…maybe I could take a walk at least?
I need to do something…fast. With that thought, I march to the bathroom, face scrunched in a permanent frown.
As I lather the jasmine-scented body wash onto the loofah Maria had brought, I feel heat build up in my head.
That narcissistic bastard.
Who does he think he is? Even when my father tried to stop me in the past, I always managed to find my way out of the house and back without him knowing.
I angrily scrub my legs as if trying to erase his lingering touches and the memories of two days ago.
He thinks he can live rent-free in my head. Tch..
I swear I’ll scrub either my skin off or the memories of him.
After a few minutes of aggressive scrubbing, I decide my skin is too precious to undergo such torture—for such an unworthy bastard in the first place—so I gently wash the rest of my body and turn on the warm water to soothe my now slightly reddened skin.
The water flows down my body, easing the tension in my bones, and I relax into it.
When I’m done, I wrap the towel around me, moving to the big, luxuriously designed walk-in closet, taking out a black tank top and a black pair of leggings.
Thankfully, Maria had brought some clothes and all the womanly items I’d need.
I wonder where she is and why I haven’t seen her since I arrived.
She’s short, chubby, welcoming, and reminds me a little bit of my Nana. My heart flips at the thought of my grandmother.
After Mom died, she was the only female figure in my life I was close to.
She was also the only person who appreciated my passion for dancing.
Whenever I snuck over to her place, she’d let me dance to my heart’s content…
because she knew once I got back home, it would be psychological warfare for me.
She had her own house, but I wonder if Dad’s enemies got to her, too. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t reach out to her. I had to keep my facade of being dead, or the enemies would find me.
Slipping into the clothes makes me feel like I’m a brand new person.
I gently shake my head at the thought. Even if I were paid to be a brand new person—new identity and new life…
away from the mafia, I’d decline. In this world, women are taught to be subservient, labelled as nothing but bargaining chips and tools for strategic alliances.
We’re taught to stay quiet…not have a voice. But I could never. I don’t want to shrink myself for the comfort of men.
In a world where patriarchy takes root and all odds are against women, I want to thrive. Break out of the norms. Stand shoulder to shoulder with the men who make the rules…and change the narrative.
Despite all it took from me, I don’t hate being in the mafia. No. Being there gives me purpose. I just hate being forced to be what I’m not.
My father did that—forcing me to succumb to his twisted notion about women—and now Cortez Donatelli is taking the baton from him.
My fists clench and I grind my teeth hard, putting my hair into a bun and making my way to the door. I’m going for a walk. Cortez can kiss my ass for all I care.
With a firm hand on the knob and preparing some lie to come up with for the guards, I slowly pull the door open. I gasp in surprise when I see no one at the door. That’s odd. There used to be two people there.
Either way, I take what seems to be the right wing, treading carefully, occasionally slipping behind pillars and melting against walls to avoid being seen by anyone. But there’s no need for that.
The mansion is empty. My brows lift involuntarily in confusion. That’s odd. The first time I arrived, there were guards stationed at every couple of corners. I wonder what’s going on.
My feet slow to a stop before a door. I don’t know what’s behind it, and I should probably just take a walk around here without being too nosy and return to my room. But curiosity gets the best of me, and I push the door open. A gasp escapes my mouth when I take in the sight before me.
It’s a gym.
Laughter almost pours from my lips as I step in and soak in the beauty of the place. Almost. But I quickly slap a hand over my mouth. I don’t want any guard ruining my parade before it even starts.
Weights, bars, machines…the gym is fully stacked with equipment that makes me feel accomplished. I’m proud I took this step. A part of me—no, scratch that, all of me can’t wait to see the look on Cortez’s face when he finds out that I broke one of his rules.
Without wasting time, I move to pick up one weight with those circular kilograms on both ends, whatever it’s called. I’m not a gym person. I never really cared about bodybuilding or whatever, but all my curves are in the right places. You could say I’m lucky.
I pick up two weights and balance them in both hands before crouching down. There’s already a burn in my legs as I rise and catch my breath. Repeating the motion again, I squat, this time with a slight arch to my back.
I’m about to take the third squat when someone comes in, breathing heavily. I yank my head to the side and find a guard, breathing as if chased by the god of war himself.
“Ma’am, please, you can’t,” he rasps, walking towards me. I frown, fisting the weights tighter.
“Look, I know you and your boss have these stupid rules, but I’m losing my sanity in that room. Imagine your sister locked up in there?” I gesture at him with my head.
He stops panting and moves closer to me, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“I’m good at it and won’t hurt myself if that’s what you’re worried about.” My words come out jerky and between pants as I squat again with the same arch, hoping he won’t snitch on me.
“Look why don’t yo—”
I don’t get to complete my statement when Cortez storms in. He’s wearing nothing but thin grey joggers that hang low on his defined body. His hair is tousled, and his hands are draped in sleek black gloves. Before I know it, they collide with the guard’s face.
Huh? What just happened?
Blood flies out of his mouth as Cortez yanks him by the neck and drives another fist to his guts, holding him against the wall. I wince, but that’s the least of my problems right now.
My fingers instantly itch to run down Cortez’s chest as his abs flex with every punch he throws to the guard. More screams pour out of the poor guard’s mouth, but are drowned out by the voice yelling in my head to move my eyes lower. And I oblige.
With a slightly clenched throat and hungry eyes, I trail the deep V-line on his lower abdomen until they get to his—may I say…monstrous—dick print. Cortez’s hand isn’t the only thing swinging. I’m pretty sure I can see his dick swinging, too, with each motion he takes.
Fuck! Both of them are doing really well.
I want to talk…to intervene, but I can’t. I don’t know why. Oddly, there’s something about his actions…something raw and primal that makes my stomach curl with excitement.
I think it’s the grey joggers effect. Or the angry grunts and feral growls that rip his throat as he continues to land punches to the guard, who is now on the floor.
Wait, floor?
And it hits me then. Why is he knocking down the guard anyways? “Cortez, stop!” I scream when I take in the guard’s limp body. Guilt climbs my chest. Shit.
My legs move before I think, and I yank Cortez’s arm off him with every bit of strength in me. When he looks at me, his eyes are blazing in fury.
Oh boy. I gulp.
In a split second, my back hits the wall, and I can feel the hot, angry heat radiate from him as he leans into me, boring me with a gaze so intense that I can feel a hole sear through the bridge of my nose.
“You like breaking rules, don’t you?” He wraps a hand tightly around my neck, releasing his words as a dangerous growl. My pulse thunders beneath my skin, a wave of dizziness washing over me. Hell, everything about him is dangerous now.
His ragged breath, the way he bares his teeth, and the streaks of veins popping on his forehead...I should be afraid…maybe even screaming at him. But I’m ashamed to say that I’m turned on…badly.
“I told you, your rules make no sense.” I push my head forward in a reckless sneer and instantly regret it when it brings me closer to his face. It is now that I take note of the small freckles splashed across his nose and the tiny, almost faded scar that splits his eyebrow.
Ughhh…now’s not the time! Focus, Selene!
A sting strikes through my jaw as his one hand moves to grip my chin tightly, the other one slamming both of my hands against the wall to pin me in place.
“Watch your damn mouth, Selene,” he growls, lips just a kiss away from mine. The pulse in my veins continues to thump harshly along with other parts. My heart…my stomach and, well, my…pussy.
Fuck. I hate this.
“Or what?” I bite back, writhing beneath him. “You’ll kill me?”
I know I’m being reckless, but something about the way his eyes hold mine, expecting me to cower or shrink back, makes me want to dare him. To push his buttons and see how far he can go.
His lips curl in a wicked smile, eyes narrowing with something dark.
“Oh, no darling. That’d be too easy on you.
Each time you break a rule, a man bleeds,” he hisses, trailing a lone finger down the corner of my lips.
“This man’s blood,” he gestures toward his deformed body on the floor, “…is on you. So unless you want to continue with that, I suggest you rethink your childish shenanigans.”
A startled gasp strains my lips. He wouldn’t kill his own men.
“You’re bluffing,” I whisper, my voice dry.
His eyes drop to my chest for a split second before he darts a steely gaze back to me, cold and unforgiving.
“Go ahead and test me. I’ll burn the whole fucking world down if it means keeping you where I want you.”
I involuntarily release a breathy whimper as he yanks my hand and digs into his pocket. Breathing heavily, he raises our hands in the space between us and shoves an engagement ring on my left ring finger.
“W-what?” I gasp, startled.
“In two hours, I declare you my fucking fiancée.”