Page 38 of Enslaved

“Did you find her?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, breathing hard.

“Not yet. But I did find the guy who drugged her. He’s Franco Donatelli’s son, Dante.”

Fuck.

Donatelli is mafia. A mean-old mother-fucker whose son just tried to take what’s mine. There’s no way I’m not going to break his fucking face. Even the Italian mob knows better than to fuck withEl Diablo.

I might be a monster, but I’ve never drugged or forced a woman. My dark game is much different. I don’t need drugs to sleep with my prey. I use my words, my mouth, my hands—playing every dirty trick there is to win their minds. It’s the consent that turns me on. Jessie is stubborn. Seducing her mind and body until she begs for my cock again is the number one thing on my to-do list.

Work can wait. Crumbling financial empires will survive another day. But hunting down my dove’s would be rapist and breaking his fucking face—can’t.

Jin waited silently for his orders. “Do it. Nab him. Bring him to the docks where the cargo ships unload. I’ll be waiting. I’m taking the Heli.”

I ended the call without waiting for a reply. Stavros stared straight ahead, accustomed to doing his job and pretending he doesn’t see jack shit. I wanted to race back to Capri after I searched this entire boat for two straight days.

But I’m not a dog running after his master, even though thoughts of her… of what we shared, consumed my every waking moment. My fist punched the fiberglass wall. How the fuck did an American woman a decade younger than me turn the tide? I still can’t believe she had the audacity to tie me to my own damn bed. My little dove has more gumption than I ever realized. I won’t let my guard down around her ever again.

I didn’t bother packing a bag. Right then, the only thing that could curb my rage was punishing Dante.

“Do you know who I am?”

The kid was strung up. Jin had found an abandoned warehouse, broke the lock and tied up every limb on Dante’s body.

I puffed on my cigar, as I strolled in. “I think you got that wrong.Do you know who the fuck I am?”

“My father’s going to kill you.”

“I don’t think so,malaka.”

I let the cigar dangle from my lips, as I removed my favorite pair of cufflinks, and rolled up the cuffs of my shirt on each arm to my elbows. The knife I always carry in my pocket gleamed in the light as I opened the blade.

“They call meEl Diablo.”

His eyes widened, he tried to hide his fear as I walked closer.

“What do you want with me? My father’s the DON and I know we don’t conduct any business with you.”

I pointed the tip of the blade into his chest, right above his beating heart.

“Ah, you are correct. This is all about you. Tell me, do you like frequenting the discos downtown? Bueno Notte, perhaps?

His face paled.

“You attempted to take what was mine.”

“Who? Which one?” He didn’t even bother to deny anything.

“Glykia mou,my golden one.”

“American?”

I let my blade fall to his groin, “will you ever use this again? Do you deserve to Dante?”

He answered by pissing himself.

I could’ve just stridden in and used him as a punching bag, but what’s the fun in that? I stepped back as the river of piss hit the concrete floor.

“Do you enjoy drugging women? You get off, fucking their semi-conscious bodies, eh? So, what’s a fitting punishment? What do you think?”

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