Page 29 of The Mafia King's Reign
Then I type:Can we talk about this?
And delete it.
Finally, I give up trying to think and analyze and just send the first thing that comes to mind, the middle finger emoji.
Me:??
His response is immediate.
Bad girl.
The words send an unwanted flush of heat through me, sharp and humiliating. I hate that my body responds to him. Hate that some traitorous part of me reacts to his dominance like it’s something to crave instead of fear.
I wish he were less attractive. Then my mind wouldn’t be playing tricks on me. It would be simple. Clean. I don’t want this. I don’t want him. I want my freedom back, period.
Instead… instead my pulse betrays me. My breath goes shallow. And beneath the anger, beneath the defiance, there’s awareness.
Of him.
Of myself.
Of the dangerous truth that part of me isn’t fighting to escape him, it’s fighting not to lean in.
CHAPTER SIX
Salvatore
There’s only one person I want to touch. One voice I want breaking beneath my hands. But tonight, I settle for blood.
Santoro’s screams bounce off the concrete walls of the warehouse, sharp and panicked, the sound of a man realizing—far too late—that begging doesn’t work here.
I crouch in front of him, rolling my cuffs back slowly.
“You should’ve run,” my voice is dangerously calm.
“I—I didn’t know,” he sobs. “I swear—”
“You knew enough.” I tilt my head, studying him the way I’d study a malfunctioning weapon. “Enough to skim. Enough to lie. Enough to think I wouldn’t notice.”
He shakes violently, tied to the chair, eyes wild.
I smile.
Fear makes men honest. Pain makes them useful.
I lean in, lowering my voice. “Do you know why you’re still breathing?”
He shakes his head frantically.
"Because I'm distracted." The admission comes easier than expected
His brow furrows in confusion.
“There’s a woman in my house,” I continue, almost conversational. “And she’s learning what it means to belong to me.”
“She’s beautiful,” I go on. “Smart. Defiant. She thinks she can fight me.”
My voice lowers slightly.
