"I'll call the cops."
These words slipped out before I could stop them, it was the most useless threat imaginable. I was chained to his bed, locked in some unknown place, with no phone, or a way to reach anyone. Calling the cops? Yeah, right.
But what else could I do? Empty threats were all I had left.
Daniel just smirked down at me, that infuriating, calm expression never wavering. I still couldn't wrap my head around it, how the hell had he become part of the mafia?
The way he talked about paying off Father's debt so casually... it sounded like he wasn't just involved; he was in charge. A boss.
But mafia families only ever put blood relatives in the top position, right? Daniel's father had been a normal person, just Father's personal assistant. So how? How did someone like him climb to that level in six years?
The questions spun wildly in my head while he stayed hovering over me, smiling like this was all some amusing game. My threat clearly hadn't fazed him in the slightest.
"You're going to call the cops? Go ahead. Only if you're able to leave this mansion."
His words twisted in my stomach like poison. The position we were in, his weight pinning me, the lingering heat from moments ago still buzzing under my skin, made everything feel suffocatingly intimate and wrong. A single drop of blood fell from his bitten lip, landing warm and wet on the tip of my nose.
"Always so stubborn,"
He murmured.
"You haven't changed a bit, Eva."
"But you did."
I shot the words back at him, sharp and defiant. I didn't want to talk, didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a real conversation.
But if arguing, distracting him, buying even a few seconds was the only thing I could do, then I'd keep talking. I'd keep pushing. Anything to keep him from moving forward with whatever sick plan he had next.
"I did? Perhaps you're right. So you'd better not expect me to be gentle with you."
He leaned in closer until our noses brushed. His left arm slipped under my T-shirt again. I tried to grab his wrist, to stop him, but it was useless, his strength overpowered mine effortlessly again.
His hand slid up my back, fingers finding the clasp of my bra. One quick flick and it came undone. Fuck. It always unhooked so easily, that's exactly why I wore this one at home for comfort, never imagining something like this would happen.
"Stop, Daniel. This is a crime."
I said it firmly, trying to shove his hand away, but he ignored me. His fingers continued tracing slow, deliberate paths across my bare skin, sending unwanted shivers through me.
"Since when does a husband touching his wife become a crime?"
He whispered the words hot against my neck before pressing slow, teasing kisses along the sensitive skin there, each one deliberate, each one making my pulse race against my will.
"I am not your wife!"
I snapped back in frustration. When the hell did I become his wife? Had he read one too many dark romance novels and lost his damn mind?
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, we're already married."
"Hah?!"
I stared down at the top of his head in pure shock. What did he mean by "already married?' Like we tied the knot in his fever dream or something?
"Don't put pressure on your little mind, it's not a problem for me to make us legally married... which I already did yesterday."
"You did what?!"
My hands abandoned their useless attempt to stop his arm. Instead, I grabbed both sides of his face, forcing him to look up at me. That same infuriating, smug smile was plastered across his lips.
"Heh! heh heh heh heh..."
He laughed mockingly, playfully. Messing with me again. Fuck this man.
Before I could spit out another word, his mouth claimed mine in another kiss. Fine, if he wanted his lips ripped today, I'd oblige. But then I felt my lower lip caught between his teeth.
He bit down, hard, mirroring exactly what I'd done to him earlier. Not enough to draw blood like i did, but enough to leave a clear imprint of his teeth, a stinging mark that throbbed in protest.
"Enough chit-chat for now. Time to claim my debt."
Before I could even process the dark promise in his words, his mouth was on mine again, harder this time, hungrier. It was wrong, twisted, but my body refused to fight. Heat bloomed low in my belly, spreading like wildfire, pooling between my thighs. I was giving in.
My breaths came in short, ragged gasps as his hands roamed freely beneath my T-shirt, rough palms gliding over bare skin, igniting every nerve. The scorching heat of his touch only fed the growing ache inside me, turning resistance into something dangerously close to need.
I wanted to bite his lip again, knee him hard between the legs, make him double over and release me, but my limbs felt heavy, traitorous, locked in place as though my own body had betrayed me and surrendered to his control.
He pulled back just enough to unbutton and take off his shirt, The sight of him, broad shoulders, carved chest, the sharp lines of muscle shifting under taut skin, hit me like a physical blow. He was devastatingly sexy, and I hated how much that fact burned through me.
In the next heartbeat, his hands were on my T-shirt, shoving it upward. The fabric caught on the cuffs, refusing to come off completely. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he realised the advantage.
He didn't hesitate, he twisted the excess material and used it to bind my wrists higher, securing them tightly above my head against the headboard. The chains rattled softly with the movement.
Now I lie beneath him, both of us topless, skin against skin. But I was the only one restrained, like an offering laid out on his altar, helpless and exposed.
His large hands found my breasts again, fingers digging into the soft flesh with possessive force, kneading roughly. Then his head dipped. Warm, wet heat enveloped one nipple as his tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, slowly sucking with deliberate intensity.
"Fuck..."
I whispered, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. My back arched involuntarily, pressing my chest harder against his tongue, chasing the overwhelming sensation even as shame burned behind my eyes.
Everything was lost to the heat, this pressure, this gentle torturous rhythm of his mouth on my skin.