Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

Micah

I’ve never been much of a believer in breakfast being the most important meal of the day. But today’s different. Today, it’s important for other reasons besides nutrition.

Lena’s awake and pacing around the guest room I put her in last night, but she hasn’t stepped one toe outside it. I turn off the surveillance footage on my phone and decide to hurry her along. If she thinks she can spend the rest of our lives together hiding, she has more than a little eye opening to do.

The door’s locked when I try to open it. I have the key in my nightstand, but there’s no need to show all the cards in my hand at one time. I lightly rap my knuckles on the door and wait.

“Lena.” I press my hands against the door frame and stare at the door as though if I stare hard enough, I’ll be able to make out her form on the other side. And it is a delectable form. I may have been busy keeping up with the deal making last night, but I had plenty of opportunity to take in her generous curves. The woman would have earned my father an excruciatingly large profit on the market. She has no idea how lucky she is to have been given to me instead.

“Lena, open this door,” I call. There’s some shuffling, but nothing else. “If I have to break it down, there’s going to be a problem. And you don’t want a problem with me this early in the morning.” Or any time of day, but she’ll have to learn this the hard way. I’m not an easy man, and no matter her age, I will take her over my knee if she gives me trouble. She’s mine now. Mine to play with and mine to punish.

The door yanks open and she’s there, standing right in front of me with her hair a mess from sleeping, and her eyes narrowed on me.

“Is that how everything gets resolved with you? Violence?” She holds the door against her body. Does she really believe she can keep me out of the room?

“You haven’t seen violence yet,” I remind her.

She pinches her lips together and a cherry blush rises to her cheeks.

“I don’t want this door locked again.” I push off the door frame. “Do you understand me?”

“Why? Are you afraid I’ll have big parties in here and you won’t be invited?” Thick sarcasm drips from her words.

Men twice her size would think again before using such a tone with me. Obviously, she’s been sheltered-spoiled.

I shove the door out of her hand and advance on her. Every step I take forward, she takes one backward until I have her pressed against the dresser on the opposite wall. Her hands fly back to steady herself but being trapped only seems to infuriate her more. Steam would rise from her body if it were possible.

“I’m not afraid of anything. This is my house, princess. And you’ll follow my rules here. You are never to lock yourself behind a door. Ever.” I lean forward, covering her hands with my own. The edge of the dresser has to be cutting into her palms, but she keeps a steady expression.

“Whatever. Fine.” She pulls her hands out from beneath me, but I don’t move. She’s nicely caged, and I’m keeping her that way until we have a little talk.

“Yes, sir would be more appropriate, but we’ll get to that later.”

Anger flashes in her silver blue eyes, but something else happens, too. Her pupils expand, her lips part slightly. If I trail my fingertips along the soft skin of her throat, will she tremble out of arousal or from fear? Either will do, but my gut tells me she’s already making her panties wet from our brief interaction.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen. You need to come eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” She has to lean away from me in order to raise her defiant chin, but she manages without bumping into me.

“I didn’t ask if you were. I said you need to eat, and you will.” I inhale the sweet smell of her shampoo. She’s not as tall as me, not by any stretch of measurement. Her head comes up to just below my chin. I could tuck her in perfectly beneath me like a puzzle piece snugly in place.

A small part of me likes this idea, her fitting right into my body, folding her in place with me. Her tongue runs along her bottom lip and another part of me likes that even better. I move my position away enough, so she won’t feel my cock getting hard for her. Women use seduction as a weapon. I’m not easily fooled by it, but I won’t have her embarrassing us both by attempting to wield her sexuality against me.

“I don’t have any clothes.” She captures my gaze, not giving me an inch. What she doesn’t give, I’ll take.

“You’re wearing clothes now.” I slide my finger between the thin fabric of the strap and her shoulder, gliding along until I can feel the swell of her breast.

Instead of smacking my hand away, like I expect, she moves up to her toes and tries to level our glares. There’s a fierce streak in her. It’s a good sign. My father would crush her easily otherwise.

“It’s not mine. And it’s all I have here.”

I let the strap snap back onto her shoulder and take a step back, leaning to my right and opening a drawer. There are clothes stashed inside.

“There are clothes here. And in the closet. I’m sure you’ll find something that fits.” I’ve yet to have a woman have to make her walk of shame in the nude. But Lena’s not one of those women. There is no place for shame with her. She’s to be my wife. She’ll have the Ivanov name. Nothing but pride and confidence should touch her.Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

“They aren’t mine. And I won’t wear your whore’s clothing.” She turns her nose up, taking the opportunity to slide away from me and move to the window.

I shut the drawer and lean my hip against the dresser, folding my arms over my chest. How best to deal with this princess brat? She deserves a red ass, maybe some time with her nose pressed firmly into the corner to show her I won’t tolerate disrespect.

But it’s our first day together, and in all fairness-not a word typically associated with me-she’s been through an ordeal at the hands of both my father and hers.

“I will have your things brought over this afternoon. Your clothing anyway. If there’s any sort of sentimental stuff you want, you’ll have to go over to your father’s house and get it yourself. I won’t waste my men’s time by picking through your things.”

“I don’t want their dirty hands on my belongings.” Her mouth scrunches up and for a moment, I think she’s going to spit at me. But at the last second, she turns toward the window. The blinds are slanted enough to let in the morning sun, but not give a clear view of the city below.

“Well, princess brat, I’ll see if your father will pack your panties himself personally. Just for you,” I say to her back, enjoying the way her muscles tighten beneath her creamy skin. The back of the dress dips low, showing off her toned body.

“Don’t call me that. I’m no princess and I’m not a brat.” Her voice raises enough that I drop my hands and march to her.

I grab her face with one hand and push her head back until I’m glaring down at her. She slaps at my hand, but it won’t do any good. Her nostrils flare, probably in frustration that I have her and won’t let go.

“Never raise your voice to me. You will talk with respect when you address me. Am I clear?”

She stops smacking at my arms and drops her hands to her sides. It’s the closest thing to an acceptance I’m going to get this morning. And time’s running out. I have to get across town to a meeting. Being late isn’t something anyone would comment on, but it’s not something I tolerate even for myself.

“Good.” I release her. A red marking of my fingers lingers on her cheeks. “Now. I have a meeting. Eat breakfast naked for all I care, but you will eat something. I’ll be back around seven tonight. I expect you to be ready.”

“For what?” She frowns; maybe she heard the tiny tremor in her voice as clearly as I did. Showing weakness pisses her off. We’re the same in that regard, but the difference is she’s allowed her weakness. She has me to hide behind, to lean on.

“For dinner.”

“I need to dress special for dinner?” She tilts her head to the side, staring at me like she’s trying to understand the meaning between my words.