Mafia King by L. Steele

27

Karma

"What the hell does that mean?" I scowl up at the man who towers over me. Michael’s a tall guy, at least six-feet four-inches in height, but in this light, and with the angle at which he is poised over me, he looks positively massive. His shoulders block out my line of sight, his dark eyes seem to merge with the blackness around him. My heart beat ratchets up. Shit, this is not good. I am in a cell, on my own, with the man—okay, technically, with my husband—who is not in the least bit happy with me. I glance around the cell and he shakes his head.

"Don’t even think about it." His lips curl, "If by some miracle, you get out of the cell, the only way out is up and my brothers are standing guard as we speak."

"So the entire family is on this?" I swallow. "Why am I not surprised? After all, torturing helpless women must be your family’s past time."

"Hmm." He drums his fingers on his massive chest, then winces.

My stomach tightens. So, I had managed to wound him, after all, though you can’t see it, with how he’s standing with his spine straight, and dressed in clean clothes. You wouldn’t guess I had had my dagger—okay, his dagger—buried in his chest less than a few hours ago. Again, that may be a gross exaggeration, considering he is nowhere near death’s door. Bastard looks like he’s ready for an evening out in those tailored pants and shirt.

He lowers his arm to his side, then jerks his chin. "You heard me," he drawls, "Get on your knees, Beauty."

"And if I refuse?"

"I’ll make you," he props his massive hands on his lean waist, "and trust me, you don’t want that to happen."

I glower back at him.

"Do it, Beauty." He lowers his tone to a hush, "Now."

His voice slices through the thoughts in my head. Only when the room rights do I realize that I am sitting up on the bed. Without taking my gaze off of his, I swing my legs up on the bed, then behind me as I push up to kneeling position.

"Happy?" I snap.

He shakes my head, "You know that’s not what I meant." He stares down at the floor then back at me.

"What, you expect me to read your mind?" I huff.

"Don’t try my patience," he murmurs.

"Or what?"

"Or." He moves so quickly, I blink. The next second, he’s grabbed me by the back of my neck and hauled me up to my feet, on the bed. My heels, which I still hadn’t removed, dig into the mattress and I totter. With his other hand, he grabs me at the apex of my thighs. His big palm closes around my pussy and he lifts me down to the floor

I totter on my heels and he holds me there for a few seconds until I’ve regained my balance. Then he releases his hold on me, only to clamp a heavy hand on my shoulder. He applies enough pressure that I have to sink down on my knees. Good thing the dress is so thick that it cushions them from the dirty floor. My poor dress, it’s never going to recover from this assault… First, by the droplets of his blood which had splashed onto the bodice, and now, from the filth on the floor. Ugh! And this is so not the time to be thinking about the state of my dress. Not that I intend to wear this one again. No, it’s served its purpose and it is expendable. Like me.

Stop it, stop it.Don’t give up even before you’ve started fighting. After all you’ve only begun this… Whatever it is, for which he brought you down here. If he had thought that he would intimidate me… He is succeeding.

My heart slams into my ribcage as I kneel there, while he looms over me like some stupid medieval knight… Only, he’s not a knight. He is a devil, a monster, a man with no remorse, no emotions, no feelings. A brute who takes what he wants, when he wants, and there is no reasoning with him.

I’d known all this when I had reached for his dagger. Call it impulsive; call it a sense of inevitability which had gripped me. When I’d realized that he was tracking my sister and her new husband; that he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them; that nothing I said or did would, ultimately, help me in any way; that once I was married to him, he’d take full advantage of me… And then kill me...

I’d known then, that this is a fight to the finish. My life is already in danger. Likely, I am never walking away from this. No way, am I also going to endanger Summer’s life. No, I had to do something about it. I had seen my opportunity and seized it. I hadn’t even realized what I intended to do; not until my fingers had brushed the handle of the dagger. I had pulled it out, and I had not hesitated. Had I meant to kill him? Honestly, I don’t know. Had I, for one second, thought that I would actually succeed in hurting him? I’d hoped so.

At least, I had managed to cause him some pain… Had put a halt to the sham of the proceedings. My fingers brush the palm on my left ring finger. Yeah, except for the stupid wedding ring that refuses to come off, which insists the wedding ceremony was, unfortunately, very real. I swallow, tip up my chin at him. Damn, if I am going to let him break my spirit… At least, not that easily. "What are you going to do?" I demand.

"That’s what I am trying to figure out." He stares down at me, an expression of something—curiosity, a certain interest even in his glance as if he’s trying to figure me out. Shit, that’s the last thing I want, to be seen as a challenge by him.

And yet.. I can’t stand down, I can’t. Something inside of me… That same darkness that has crawled at the edges of my consciousness all this while, insists that I stand up to him. That I confront him, defy him, make him realize that he can’t just bend me to his will that easily.

I pretend to yawn, then pat my fingers to my lips. "Well whatever it is, you’d best get on with it." I look him up and down, "My knees are already beginning to ache."

"It’s not only your knees which will be hurting by the time I’m through with you." His lips curl, "Unless that’s your plan, hmm?" He circles around me and I sense him sizing me up… For what? What could he possibly have in mind that could be worse than anything he’s done to me so far?

"Maybe you think that if you goad me enough, I’ll lose my control, that I’ll do something to slip up, something that you can take advantage of and try to escape, hmm?"

"You’ve already told me your family is guarding the entrance to the dungeon—"

"Basement," he corrects me.

"Funny, from where I am, it resembles a torture chamber."

He laughs, "You think this is a torture chamber?" His grin widens, "Wonder what you’ll think when I take you into the real torture room."

"Oh," I swallow, "you’re joking right?"

He arches an eyebrow. "Have I ever joked with you?"

Of course, he hasn’t. The alphahole doesn’t have a single funny bone in his entire body. Hell, even if I were to tickle him, he’d probably just respond with that glowering expression, before telling me that I bore him.

My pulse begins to race and sweat laces my palms. Shit, shit, shit. Had I actually thought that this man was going to let go of me that easily? Wait, actually, I hadn’t thought much at all. But the fact that he has an honest-to-god torture chamber down here, one that he plans to use on me… Shit, I am not ready for that. Seriously, not.

"So what…" my voice cracks and I clear my throat, "what are you going to do next?"

"It’s more about what you are going to do next, Beauty."

How I hate that nickname. I am going to find a way to get back at him for this. For making me feel so helpless, like I am completely at his mercy, which I am… But hell, does he have to rub it in this way? Of course, he holds the power here, doesn’t mean he has to go all villainous on me and threaten me without saying anything. Argh!

I fold my fingers in front to stop them from trembling, then force myself to meet his gaze. Don’t say it, don’t say it. But there’s no other way out. Best I pretend to play along… At least, for the time being. At least, until I have figured out a plan of action.

I set my jaw, "What…what do you want me to do?"

His pauses, taps a finger against his chin, then nods, "Strip."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Take off your wedding dress, wife."

I grit my teeth, hating the fact that I can’t tell him off for calling me that. Loathing the fact that he is, on this account, at least accurate. I am his wife…technically.

"Don’t make me wait," he says in a casual voice, "and don’t even think of disobeying me. You know I can strip you of this dress very easily, I am giving you a choice here."

"Oh, yeah?" I scoff, "What’s that?"

"You can strip your dress on your own steam and then I can fuck you, or I can strip off your dress and then..." He bares his teeth, "I can fuck you."