Mafia King by L. Steele

36

Karma

When I wake up next, I am alone. I glance around the large bed, at the crumpled sheets, at the darkness gathering outside. Shit, did I sleep the day away? The last I remember, he’d carried me to the bed, and proceeded to shag me… I mean he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that he’d pump me with so much cum that it’d overflow from my pores. I bring my hand to my nose and sniff. That dark, edgy scent of his, laced with the lighter notes of moonflowers, fills my senses. I smell like a combination of me and him. A combination of me and him.

I sit up so suddenly that the blood drains from my head. Shit. I lean back against the headboard, until the world stops spinning. A combination of me and him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.I allowed him to shag me without protection. What had I been thinking? Or rather, I had not been thinking at all. I had been swept away on a sex cloud; lust had addled my brain and turned my thoughts into mush. And he… He hadn’t said a word. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I throw the covers back and begin to pace. The is what he wants…for me to fall pregnant. To fuck me nonstop until I am carrying his child… And then, I’ll have no choice, but to obey him.

As if he doesn’t have me under his thumb enough, as if he doesn’t control me enough, as if he doesn’t already own me, body and soul… And to think, I had thought that I was falling for him. Jeez, give a slut some big dick energy and she instantly thinks she’s in love.

Jesus Christ, I am pathetic. No doubt about it… And it’s not about the fact that I wanted him to fuck my brains out, which I now suspect he actually did, or that I wanted him to do every filthy possible thing that a man could do to a woman, and things I haven’t even read about yet. No, it’s the fear that I had been so careless. I had gotten so carried away by everything that had happened, so taken in by his personality, so complete consumed by his charisma, so absolutely owned by his dominance—

And there it is—he had successfully made me submit without my even realizing it. I had not only given him my virginity, but I had also sacrificed my free will at the altar of his arrogance. I had simply rolled over and allowed myself to be taken in by his…cock, his sexual proficiency, his…his…larger-than-life presence. I had thrown caution to the winds… Hell, I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I could fall pregnant.

As someone who grew up in the foster system, I am well aware of the risks of having a child when you are unable to care for it. And while Summer and I had been lucky in that we had had decent foster parents, still, we had learned very early on to protect ourselves. And I had forgotten all about it. A few days in his presence and I am losing myself, losing my independence and my pride. He’s bringing the woman I am deep inside to the surface… And I don’t want to deny who I am. I don’t want shame to prevent me from being myself. … But, here I am, facing the very real possibility that I might have conceived a child by my captor already, and that is not a part of my life plan right now.

Oh! Hell. I grip my hair and tug on it. Think, Karma, think. You have to do something about this. But what? I glance around the bedroom…his bedroom… Shit, I am standing here naked, and he could walk in at any moment. I’ll take one look at his delicious body and all other thoughts will leave me. I’ll probably throw myself at his feet and ask him to shag me again.

And would that be so bad? To let him have me, to assuage this hunger deep inside of me. So what, if I fall pregnant? It would mean that he’d have to keep me, he’d have to protect me, he couldn’t harm me then, right? And this…this is exactly what he wants. For me to give up my will, and my ability to make decisions, my prerogative to choose… He wants me to lay it all at his feet so he can dominate me absolutely. And that…that I cannot bear.

I want children…eventually. And if I am pregnant, I will keep this kid too… Only, no way, am I going to let his presence taint his or her life.

Either way, I need to get the hell out of here. Surely, there has to be a way off the island? A boat somewhere…? No way, would his staff and his brothers and the rest of his team leave him without, at least, some way to get off this place. If there is a way off, then I am going to find it.

I pivot, run out of his room, down the corridor into what had been my bedroom. I race across the floor to the closet. Pull out underwear, scrounge around until I find a pair of pink jeans and a white sweater. I pull on the clothes, along with a pair of beige-colored ballet pumps. Ugh! Hate the colors, but they'll have to do. At least, they are comfortable and I can run in these ballet pumps. Too bad the asshole had taken the clothes I'd been wearing when he'd kidnapped me. Guess he'd only wanted me to wear the clothes he bought for me.

My stomach flip-flops. Oh, hell no, I do not like that gesture of ownership; I do not. Totally, not.

I glance around the room. Anything else I can take from here? Anything to protect myself? Anything I can defend myself with? His knife. Of course.

I retrace my steps down the corridor, back into his room. As soon as I enter, the scent of sex hits me. My belly quivers. I only have to scent his smell and my entire body seems to go into overdrive. To hell with that. Don’t look at the bed. Pretend he didn’t just shag you on those sheets.

I scan the room, spot his knife on the side table. No way. Did he actually leave it behind? He must have been more distracted than usual to do that. Or…he’s not far off. Shit, maybe he went to get some food to eat or something? I run over to the side-table, grab the sheathed knife and tuck it into my waistband at the small of my back. Then I race out of the room, to the staircase, down the steps.

I hit the ground floor and hear the sound of his voice from the kitchen. Guess he’s speaking to someone. The sound of pots and pans being thunked around reaches me.

Is he cooking again? For me? For us? I pause. I could just walk over to him, hug him and join him for a late lunch… Or an early dinner… Or—I shake my head. Fuck no, this is exactly why I need to leave. All of these thoughts of domesticity and cozy meals and hot, steamy fucking between the sheets… OMG! Stop it, right now.

I walk away from the kitchen, across the big main living room, to the front door. I yank it open, slip through, then close it softly behind me. I race down the steps, down the driveway, toward the main jetty, then stop. I can’t see any boats there. There has to be another jetty, another boathouse. Another way to get off this island.

I retrace my steps, then run around the perimeter of the house. When I reach the kitchen windows, I duck low, straightening only when I reach the end of the house. I break into a sprint, taking the path that runs through the forest, past the clearing where he had tackled me not too long ago.

The rain has eased off, and while the ground is slushy, it doesn’t pose a problem. I run through the trees, emerge on the other side, and spot a boathouse. Yes! I take the steps that lead down to the structure. When I reach the shed, I push the door and it opens. Huh. Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.

I step inside the gloom, take in the boat tethered on the water between the two ramps on either side of it. The far side of the boathouse is open, and beyond it, I can see the inlet of water that leads out to the open sea. Shit, how the hell am I going to navigate that? I don’t know how to navigate a boat, but I know how to drive. I mean, it can’t be that different, right?

I step in, close the door behind me, when a hand clamps down on my mouth.

No, no, no.I begin to struggle, and someone hisses in my ear, "Stop it, I am trying to help you."

It’s not his voice. Michael’s voice is darker, more...gravelly, deep enough to send a shiver down my back. This man, whoever it is, also has a strong voice. It’s just not intense enough to be Michael’s.

"I know you are trying to get away from him, and I can help you."

I freeze.

"I am going to take my hand away from your mouth now," he murmurs. "Promise me you won’t scream?"

I hesitate and he whispers with more urgency, "Nod your head if you agree."

I comply, and he removes his hand.

I draw in a breath, turn and blink up at him. His features are familiar—that height, the width of his shoulders. He’s taller than Michael and more leanly built. Where Michael is all raw power and blatant dominance, this man wears his sophistication like a veneer. His muscles coil and his gaze sweeps over my features…

No, underneath the mask he wears to the world, he is all ruthlessness and authority. Shit, this man is as dangerous. Maybe more so, because he conceals his savagery with refined elegance.

"I… I saw you at the wedding." I murmur. "You’re Michael's brother?"

"Younger to him by only a year." His jaw hardens. "Funny how fate determines exactly where you land in life, isn’t it? Take birth at the wrong time within a powerful family, and you’ll find yourself always in sight of the seat of power but never close enough to grab it."

"Ah," I nod. This man is bitter, maybe aggrieved about the fact that he isn't the eldest in the family. He wants revenge for that? Perhaps he's even upset for something that Michael did to him? No wonder he saw his opportunity and moved in now. "I don’t intend to become a pawn in whatever twisted games you and Michael are playing."

"And what about the games he is playing with you?" He tilts his head, "What about the fact that he kidnapped you, then married you to pay your father’s debt, then threw you into a cell."

I stiffen. "What are you trying to say?"

"That we can help each other."

I frown, and he chuckles. "Not like that." He steps back, putting space between us. "Not that you are not attractive, but you are married. The two of you exchanged vows in front of a priest, so you are morally his. Also, Michael has filed the marriage papers signed by both of you with the local municipality. So legally, as well, you belong to him."

"Hold on," I scowl, "I didn't sign anything."

He stares at me and I throw up my hands, "Jesus, he forged my signature, didn't he?"

"Do you blame him?" He raises a shoulder. "Even I can see that you'd have never agreed to sign it of your own free will, and seems, he wanted you for his wife, at any cost."

"Which is why you want to help me get away from him," I firm my lips, "because you know it will hurt his ego more than anything to lose his most prized possession."

His gaze widens and he takes in my features with something akin to...respect? Maybe wariness, even. "I can see why he is so taken by you." His lips curl. "Perhaps you are more intelligent than you look."

I scowl. "Perhaps we need to get out of here, before he comes?"

I tip up my chin and he chuckles.

"He really has no idea what he’s in for, does he?"

"Oh, I think he must be getting an idea about now." I brush past him, step onto one of the ramps, when I hear the sound of Michael calling my name.

"Che cazzo,"Luca growls. "He’ll find us. Come." He brushes past me, up the ramp, and begins to undo the tether to the boat. I walk toward him, then clamber onto the boat. He finishes untying the craft, then jumps onto the vessel, which rocks from side to side. I grasp the edge of the boat, hold on as he brushes past me. He reaches the driver's seat, then presses his finger to the ignition button. The engine fires up, then stops.

"Fuck," he growls as he presses down on the ignition again. The engine coughs, roars to life, then dies away again.

"Oh, god," I squeeze my fingers together, "come on, come on, please, start."

He pauses and I shot him a glance, "Why aren’t you trying to start it again?"

"Can’t flood the engine," he explains. "Just need to give it a few seconds."

"It’s time we don’t have." I hiss, glance around the boat as the door behind us is flung open. I don’t need to glance around to know he’s entered the space. Anger thrums off of him, crashes into my back as I gasp. The hair on the back of my neck rises.

"Beauty," his familiar growl rumbles through the space, "what the hell are you doing?"