The Mafia Killer’s Wife by Rosa Milano

Ten

Amanda

Ihave a plan. It's a simple enough one. As soon as the car door opens, I'm going to make a run for it. I'm not spending any longer in his company than I need to.

I stare at the back of his head while he drives. I could wrap my hands around his neck. Try and choke him long enough for the car to stop. The only problem is we're on the bridge across the river. Where am I going to run to? If I go home, he'll just come back and get me. Either that or Benito will be waiting there for me.

I'm stuck between two impossible choices. Ethan or Benito. That's my destiny. To end up with one of them. What a decision. The man who spanked me and refuses to listen to reason or the man who makes my skin crawl and who beats the crap out of his girlfriends.

Ethan says nothing for the entire drive. He's acting like he's my chauffeur or something, not that he's forced me into this car against my will. I scowl at the back of his head.

He spanked me in public. I can't believe he did that.

Sure, I might have fantasised about it a few times in my life but this is real, this isn't my imagination. You can't just do that and carry on with your day like nothing happened.

The car slows down, and then we're going down a ramp into an underground parking lot. "Where are we?" I ask him.

"My place," he replies, bringing the car to a stop in front of a metal shutter, which is rolling upwards. He drives forward and stops. The shutter is already back in place behind us. There's a bright light above the car. I'm surrounded by concrete. There is nowhere to run. So much for my bright idea. I guess I'll have to wait a little longer to make a run for it.

With any luck, Tess has got the police on my tail. They'll rescue me sooner or later. I know they will. I just need to survive long enough for them to find me or for him to make a mistake so I can get the hell out of here.

There's no way I'm staying. Not at his place. A man who spanks women in public might be capable of anything.

He turns off the engine and climbs out, walking around to the back door. He unlocks it and pulls it open. "Out," he says.

"Take me home," I tell him. "Take me home right now and I won't press charges."

"What charges?"

I count off on my fingers. "Kidnapping for one. Assault. Threatening behavior. Lewd conduct." I'm grasping at straws by the last one.

"Out of the car or I spank you before you're even upstairs."

"What is it with you and the spanking? Why's that always your thing?"

"Because it works."

"You speaking from experience there, bub?"

"It worked with you at the nightclub. It worked at the cafe. It will work here."

He beckons me forward, and I shuffle out of the car. What choice do I have?

"I will have your belongings brought here from your house," he says, walking over to the door in the corner of his private garage. "Is there anything particular you would like collected?"

"Don't act like you care."

He turns to face me. "I don't ask twice. You will survive without your things if you don't mention something you need right now."

I lean toward him, as close as I dare to get. "Fuck. You." I make it two separate sentences. I catch a whiff of his scent and my insides go wild. He smells of sandalwood and citrus and something darker, something that's all man.

I'm waiting for his response but it doesn't come. Instead, he moves faster than I would have thought possible for a guy his size. He grabs me around the waist and starts carrying me through the door.

"You will learn to behave," he says, hitting a button on the wall next to him.

We've walked straight into an elevator. Well, he's walked, I'm dangling like a side of meat from his arms. I squirm to get free, but he's not dropping me. I get my nails into his wrist, but he just smiles down at me. "I can handle a lot more pain than that," he says, and his smile freezes my attempts to get free. "Can you?"

A few seconds later, the doors of the elevator open straight into a huge penthouse apartment. He sets me on my feet as the doors shut behind me. I feel like they're prison doors, trapping me inside a jail cell for as long as he wants to keep me here. I guess I won't be climbing out the window to escape, not unless I learn how to fly.

"We need to discuss a few things," he says. "Coffee?"

He walks over to his kitchen and starts brewing. I surreptitiously press the call button on the elevator behind me, but it doesn't even respond. "Only works with a keycard," he says without looking at me. "Feel free to explore if it makes you feel better, see if there's another way out."

I do as he suggests. I find two bedrooms, both ensuite. A separate bathroom with clawfoot bath. A linen closet. A study. A locked door. "What's behind here?" I ask.

"I'll show you if you don't start behaving. Sugar?"

"I don't want coffee. I want to go home."

"Sit down."

"No."

He puts down the two mugs, walks over to the locked door and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a blunt iron key. He shoves it in the lock and turns, disappearing inside, the door closing after him.

I run for the elevator and try it again, but nothing happens. I'm stuck. There is no way out. Can I call for help? I haven't got my handbag. It's at home. There's no house phone anywhere in sight.

He walks back out of the door a minute later and he's holding a wooden paddle in his hands. "You sit down and we talk. We work this out. Or I tie you down and use this on your ass until you beg me to stop. At that point we sit down and work this out. It's happening either way. One way is without initial pain, that's all. Up to you what happens next."

I sit on the sofa. He nods, but I notice he keeps the paddle with him when he takes the red leather armchair opposite me. "We all have choices to make in life," he says, sipping at his coffee. "You have something I need and I have something you need. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement that benefits the two of us."

"What do you have that I could possibly want?"

"Protection."

"What are you talking about?"

He puts his mug down and begins to talk.