6. Alexia
6
Alexia
A fter making sure Rose is fast asleep, I stand and slip quietly into the adjoining room. The door clicks softly shut behind me, but the weight of everything I’ve done—everything I’ve hidden—feels heavier than ever. I sink onto the edge of the bed, my gaze drifting to the French doors that lead to the balcony. The full moon hangs low, its pale light casting a cold glow over the bay. The water ripples beneath it, dark and endless, like shards of glass scattered on the surface, sharp enough to cut.
Although I watch the black waves, all I see is the past, churning like a nightmare that refuses to drown. The boats sway, their shadows long and haunting like ghostly specters. Inside me, there’s no peace. I am untethered, adrift in the storm of memories that tear at me, relentless, unyielding.
Igor.
The name alone makes my skin crawl. I try not to think about him, about the life I was forced into. But tonight, it’s impossible to escape my past or the life that was stolen from me.
I remember my father coming to me, his face lined with worry, his voice shaky as he told me he owed Igor millions of dollars. And that the only payment Igor had accepted to spare my dad’s life was me. I became the currency he demanded.
It was all a blur after that. The sham ceremony. The promises made under duress. The cold grip of fear tightening my throat as I stood at the altar, staring into the eyes of a man I did not love—a man I could never love.
Igor’s presence was suffocating even then. His smile was a lie, a mask that barely concealed the monster underneath. And yet, I had no choice. I was trapped.
My mind drifts back to that night, the nightmare that followed. A wedding night is supposed to be a moment of bliss, a new beginning for most brides. For me, it was the start of never-ending torture.
Igor dragged me by the hair down a winding stone staircase to his dungeon, his grip tight. He was angry because my heart belonged to Dave, a man Igor despised, from a family he loathed.
My body shook as he threw me to the floor, his hands ripping at the delicate lace of my wedding dress. The fabric tore with a sickening sound, leaving me exposed and vulnerable in the cold, damp room. My skin prickled with fear as he pulled off my underwear and cuffed me to a chain hanging from the ceiling, his fingers digging painfully into my wrists as he tightened the restraints.
“You dirty bitch!” He dug his fingers into the flesh of my cheeks, yanking me close. The stench of his breath made me queasy. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from retching. “Think I don’t know about Dave? Where’s your knight in shining armor now?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, tears slipping down my cheeks as he fumbled with the fly of his slacks and pulled out his limp cock. He hissed in frustration as he fisted himself. But he couldn’t get an erection.
He never could.
“Useless cunt,” he growled, striking me hard across the face with the back of his hand. The impact rang in my ears, my cheek burning from the impact. “You’re not even worth a pity fuck.”
The humiliation was unbearable, the pain sharp and relentless. I had never been treated like this before. I had always been my father’s princess, my mother’s little girl. But in that moment, I became nothing. Igor spat at me, his saliva hitting my face with a sickening wetness. I turned away, choking back sobs as he laughed, spiteful and cruel.
“I’ve got better pussy at the whorehouse I run.”
With that, he left me there, naked and chained like an animal, shaking in terror. Days passed—maybe just hours. Time lost meaning in that dark, hellish dungeon. At some point, a housemaid brought me water and food and helped me relieve myself.
Igor had tied me up and left me there to break me, as if his promises to kill everyone I knew hadn’t already accomplished that. He eventually allowed me to go back upstairs. For the next five years, I was locked up in some room most of the time.
Occasionally, he would have parties in the dungeon. For those, he would drag me down, cover my head with a foul-smelling hood, and chain me again. He never told his guests that I was his wife. I heard them having sex and doing drugs. Igor encouraged them to humiliate me. He told them to urinate on my head, that I was one of his whores in need of a lesson. They took pleasure in tormenting me over and over again.
Out in the real world, when he paraded me like the trophy wife everyone thought I was, he played the part of a devoted, proud husband, especially when Dave or anyone he knew was around.
I endured each evil second of it. For my father. For my loved ones.
When Rose was born, everything changed. My only focus became keeping her safe.
I wipe away the tears that have fallen silently onto my lap. These memories always reopen wounds that never healed. I did everything I could to survive. I sacrificed my freedom, my dignity, and my body to keep everyone alive. But now, looking out at the dark waters, I wonder if it was worth it. Did I make the right choices? Did I protect Rose, or have I condemned her to the same tragic destiny I tried to escape two days ago?
Was it only that? It feels like a lifetime since Dave intercepted Igor’s men.
God, Dave!
I close my eyes, trying to shut out the thoughts of him, but it’s impossible. He’s always in the back of my mind. He used to be my safe harbor, the only person who could make everything feel right for me. But now I don’t know what to think. He’s changed. The life of a Mafia leader has hardened him, turned him into something darker, colder. I don’t see that loving young man who stole my heart when I look at him now. I’m not sure if that man even exists anymore.
I guess the Dave of today, head of the Syndicate, wouldn’t believe me if I told him the truth about my marriage. He would probably think I’ve become a power-hungry woman and ended up getting caught up in the game.
My cheeks burn when Igor’s taunts echo in my mind. He used to show me the text messages he sent to Dave—messages meant to torment him, to remind Dave that he could never have me. Igor loved playing those cruel games, knowing that it would tear at both Dave’s heart and mine.
I sigh, the sound heavy in the quiet room as I get rid of the clothes I put on after Rose’s bath. I slip an oversized jersey on and climb into the massive bed, the cool sheets welcoming me in their softness. My body relaxes for the first time in what feels like forever, and I close my eyes.
For the first time in five years, I feel… safe. It has to be because of Dave. At the end of the day, no matter what’s changed between us, he’s still the one who makes me feel like I’m not completely alone in this world.
Sleep takes me quickly, pulling me under like a tide, and before I know it, I’m dreaming of my first time. Dave was the sweetest lover I could have asked for. He made sure I was comfortable under the circumstances. After that, we used to have such wild, kinky sex. Dave was always demanding, always in control, and I loved every second of it. Even now, my body remembers the way he could unravel me with just a stern look.
His hands glide over my skin, rough and warm, his touch both familiar and electrifying. He’s always had this effect on me—this ability to make my body come alive with just the slightest brush of his fingers.
“Sandy,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Sandy…”
I’m straddling him, my hips moving in slow, deliberate circles, my body responding to his in a way that feels both natural and inevitable.
“Dave,” I moan softly, a rush of heat traveling through me.
God, how I’ve missed this—missed us.
“Fuck, Sandy,” he gasps, his hands gripping my hips as I ride him, the pleasure cresting inside me like a wave about to crash. “You’re so beautiful.”
I tilt my head back, my body trembling as the first orgasm takes hold of me, my muscles tightening, my heart racing.
But something isn’t right.
“Sandy,” Dave repeats, his voice distant now, almost… strange.
I peel my heavy eyelids open, blinking against the dark, trying to focus. But my vision is blurry, disjointed. The world around me starts to shift, and I feel myself slipping away from the dream, the pleasure fading as reality comes rushing back in.
The moonlight spills in through the wall-to-wall windows, casting long shadows across the bed. My heart is still racing, my body still trembling with the remnants of the dream, but something feels… off.
It takes me a moment to realize why.
This isn’t my room.
I’m in Dave’s bed.
And I’m sitting on his very hard cock.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my face burning with embarrassment as I bury it in my hands.
Dave chuckles softly, his voice rough with sleep. “You did it again, Alexia. Sleepwalking around the house.”
I groan, mortified, still hiding my face. “Oh shit.”
“Relax,” he says, his voice teasing now, though I can hear the control simmering just beneath it. He gently pries my hands away from my hot cheeks. His fingers are warm against mine, and despite my embarrassment, the sensation sends a shiver down my spine. “Good thing you don’t sleep in your birthday suit anymore.”
I chew my lower lip, resisting the urge to tell him I actually prefer sleeping naked. The only reason I’m not right now is because I didn’t feel comfortable doing so in a strange house. I glance down at what I’m wearing, my skin flushed under the thin fabric of the jersey.
He leans in, his voice low as he adds, “Wouldn’t want my guards to get a free peek, would we?”
His words, a mixture of possessiveness and desire, ignite something inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time. I should be mortified, but his closeness, the weight of him beneath me, the way his cock is pressing insistently against me, all of it is a heady reminder of what we once had.
I can’t help it. I brush my lips against his mouth, swiping my tongue along the plump curve of his lower lip.
He rasps, “Alexia, this isn’t a good idea.”
“I miss your taste,” I insist, my voice low.
His body stiffens beneath me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to push me away. He doesn’t. Instead, he kisses me back, his lips claiming mine. His fingers tangle in my hair, yanking at the roots, making my heart skip a few beats. It’s a dominant’s kiss. Dave possesses my mouth. Yet his kiss is full of longing, full of heat, full of the years we’ve spent apart. But just as quickly as it begins, he pulls away, his hands firm on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length. His breathing is ragged as he stares down at me, his expression torn. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the burden of our shared past, the unspoken words between us.
“This changes nothing,” he says softly, though there’s a hint of sadness in his voice. “We still have too much baggage. Too much unfinished business.”
“I know,” I confess, my voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment.
For a second, neither of us says anything. The room is quiet, the only sound the gentle lapping of the waves outside the window. I reach up, brushing a lock of hair away from his face, my fingers lingering on his cheek, the stubble teasing my skin.
“But for now, can we just have this? Just this moment? Just this once.”
His green eyes flash in the dim light, his jaw tightening. I can see the battle going on inside him, the tension between what he wants and what he thinks is right. But I don’t care about right. Not now. I just need this moment. I need him.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice soft but full of intent. “Please, Sir. Can I have this?”
His resolve falters at my words, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing deeply, and when he opens them again, they’re full of the same fire I remember. My Master is back. His grip tightens on my hips, and I can feel the shift in the air between us. The dominant side of him that always took control, always knew how to push me to my limits—it’s back.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire. “You always knew how to get what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“Only with you.” I nod, biting back a smile and adding, sassy, “Sir.”
His hands slide down to my thighs, his touch firm but gentle as he spreads them wider, his fingers skimming the hem of the jersey. His eyes darken when he realizes I’m not wearing panties. “Of course you aren’t,” he whispers, his tone full of approval. “Good girl.”
The words send a thrill through me, my body responding instantly to his dominance. He’s in control now, and I’m more than willing to let him take the reins.
He flips me onto my back in one smooth motion, his body covering mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I gasp as his lips find a sensitive spot on my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His hands roam my body, sliding under the jersey, cupping my breasts. He rubs my nipples between his fingers. His touch is familiar and electrifying. He knows every inch of me, knows exactly how to make me come undone.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his mouth teasing my ear. His hand slides between my legs, his fingers finding the slick heat there. “You’re so ready.”
I shudder at the exquisite sensations, my body arching into his touch. “I want you,” I breathe. “I want you to make me forget everything.”
He growls softly, his fingers sliding deeper, teasing me. His touch is demanding, yet infinitely gentle, as though he’s afraid I’ll break if he pushes too hard. “You’ve been through hell,” he says softly, his lips brushing mine, confirming my suspicions.
But I don’t want gentleness. Not tonight. I want him to take me, to remind me of what it feels like to be alive, to be his.
“Please, Dave. I want you to own me.”
Darkness clouds his expression for a heartbeat before he blinks it away. He wraps his long fingers around my throat, grounding me. His lips scorch mine for a second before he pushes back, slipping into his role, “Tonight, you’re mine. Do as I say, and I’ll reward you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Back against the headboard.”
I scooch up to assume the position.
He sits on his heels in front of me. “Knees to your chest. Hold your ankles and don’t move.”
He thumbs the hard bud of my clitoris, light as a feather. I shake from head to toes, moaning under the intensity of the pleasure spreading through me. The only points of contact between us are the pad of his thumb and the fire in his gaze. He holds my stare as he inserts two fingers inside me.
I bite my lower lip and squirm under his touch.
“Don’t come before I order you,” he murmurs.
I squeeze my eyes shut, conjuring up images of meadows and mountains to obey him.
“Eyes on me, pet.”
I drag my eyelids up, panting and sweating as my body combusts under Dave’s expert care.
“Please, Sir,” I beg softly.
He growls low in his throat, his control slipping. His fingers move faster. I gasp as the pleasure builds inside me, a tidal wave ready to crash. I tremble, every nerve on fire as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
“Come for me,” he orders, his voice rough, as he covers my sex with his lips.
I do. The orgasm rips through me, my body arching off the bed as I cry out, “Dave!”
The pleasure is blinding, overwhelming, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the past, the pain. There is only Dave, only this moment, only the pleasure he’s giving me.
He swallows my release, lapping at my folds, creating more waves of ecstasy so he can drink it all. I spear my fingers through his silky hair, pressing him against me. He moans and gasps as he feasts on me.
When I finally come down from the high, a delicious lethargy claims my muscles, and I tumble over the pillows. I hear distant chuckles before realizing they come from Dave. I keep my eyes shut as he rolls my spent body onto my side, pushes the jersey down, and pulls the sheets over me.
But I open one eye when the mattress shifts under his weight as he climbs off the bed. My mouth waters at the sight of his thick erection. I wet my lips and stretch my hand.
He laces his fingers through mine and kisses my forehead. “Not tonight, gorgeous. You’re beat.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I breathe, hanging my hand over the edge of the bed, drifting into sleep.
I allow myself to pretend, just for now, that everything is going to be okay.
I allow myself the luxury of forgetting that the information I’ve uncovered about Igor can get us all killed.