Page 11 of Taken By the Mafia King
At least he’d be clean when he forced himself on me, not that that even mattered.
“Take off the robe,” he commanded in an emotionless voice that sent a chill skittering up my spine. I hesitated a second too long and anger flashed through his eyes as he stalked forward and yanked me into a seated position.
I yelped as he slapped me hard across the face. I tasted blood but fought the urge to burst into tears as I remembered what I’d promised myself before I fell asleep.
Let him touch you. Let him have his way. Live, for the love of God, live as long as you can and get out of here! Live, so you can kill this man with your bare hands. Live, so you can stop this madness from continuing.
“What did I say about obeying me,bella?” He fisted my hair and forced me to look up at him. “You haven’t obeyed me yet, have you? There are consequences for that.”
He reached down and undid his robe, then shoved me flat on the bed. He crawled on top of me, and I felt his heat and the way his wrinkled skin crept over mine. He smelled like cigar smoke and something salty and rancid. I gagged, closing my eyes. Maybe dying was better than putting up with this. What if rescue never came and I never found a way out? How long would this last? How long would I have to suffer through his stench and the way his fingers pressed into my flesh, trying to pry my legs apart?
He rose above me, straddling me with his legs pinning me down on the mattress. He groped me, and when I tried to shimmy out from under him, he slapped me hard enough to draw a whimper and hot tears from my eyes as I kept them pinched closed.
I’d never done this before. I’d never had a man touch me because I wanted him to, let alone like this. Not once. I knew it would hurt anyway, but with him it would betorture.
He tried to reach between my legs but I clamped my thighs closed. He just laughed, rolling off of me and yanking my legs apart. He made me feel so weak, and I hated it. Hated him. Hated myself for not being able to fight harder.
“Do I need to tie you up? Is that what you like? Rough and hard? I can do that for you, just tell me what you want. It doesn’t have to be all bad.”
I started to cry in earnest now, trembling as his fingertips skirted over my knee and up my inner thigh.
“You’re so scared,” he purred. “Don’t tell me this is your first time?”
I froze, and even with my eyes closed, I could feel his sinister smile as it spread across his ugly, terrible face.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you? Oh, I knew you’d be worth all of this mess.”
“What’re you talking about?” I managed to say, trying to arch away from his touch.
“You don’t know?” That evil laugh of his danced around the room again.
“Why am I here?”
He slapped me again, this time so hard my teeth went through my bottom lip, and I screamed. He yanked my legs apart and settled himself between them. I shut my eyes and begged him for mercy.
You’re a fool, I cursed myself.A man like this doesn’t know the meaning of mercy.
My body took over, and I tried to get away again, even though I knew he’d hurt me again. He dropped over me, his breath hot against the side of my neck as he whispered my name and ran his hands all over me. I shoved at his chest, and he sat up, taking one last perverted look at me before grinning and opening his mouth to speak—but his words never came.
A whisper flew through the air and he grunted. His gaze became unfixed, and all the wickedness vanished from his face. His brow softened, and his jaw went slack as he looked down at his chest. I couldn’t make sense of why even as he fell forward, his forehead hitting the mattress right beside me as he took a ragged, wet breath.
“What?” I said to myself. He was twitching. Was that it? Had he finished already? Had I not felt it? Was that wet, pooling sensation gathering over my belly and chest what I thought it was?
I gagged, turned my head to the side, and nearly threw up all over the mattress.
When I opened my eyes, the door was wide open and someone stood in the doorway. The smell of gunpowder hit me, hot and rich, and I lost all sense of what was happening. Of who and where I was. It no longer mattered as the shadowed formof a very tall, very muscular man stepped into the light. He had a gun in one of his hands as he stepped forward, the silencer glinting in the dusty green light.
No. No!
I screamed. My savior, fresh out of hell, rushed me and clamped a hand over my mouth. “Shut the fuck up, Bianchi.”
I nodded shakily. He removed his hand and I smelled the blood then. I felt it on my skin. Gabriele’s blood. I didn’t dare look at the body and was spared the effort when, yet again, another bag was secured over my head. I didn’t even have the strength to beg for rescue. Because this?
This was no rescue. I’d been auctioned off to one Don only to be stolen by another.
“Get out of here, now, before we’re seen,” came a rich, smokey voice that sent goosebumps rippling over my body as I was lifted up and hauled over a strong shoulder. I felt fabric being draped over my back, and then a large, warm hand came to rest on my spine.
I heard movement in the room, like multiple people had been in the space the entire time, but I’d been too transfixed on the man who’d shot Gabriele in the back of the neck, killing him instantly, to notice we hadn’t been totally alone.
