The Mafia Boss's Captive

When I came to, I was on my knees on a cold floor. My wrists were bound behind my back, and the inside of my lip tasted like blood. In front of me, men in black suits stood like a wall. No one spoke. It was the kind of room where even breathing had to be allowed.

And among them, in the darkest corner, a man sat. Damian Locke. Bronze skin, dark hair pushed back, a tailored suit drawn across broad shoulders. The scar running from his left brow to his cheekbone was brutal and somehow it only made his face more dangerous. A man beautiful enough that even the wound looked like an ornament. But the eyes were another matter. Eyes that knew exactly how to break a person.

Whatever my father took from you, I'm not the one who's going to pay for it but I lifted my chin and said nothing. He crouched in front of me and tilted my jaw up with one long finger. "Listen, little girl." His cold thumb dragged slowly over the blood at the corner of my mouth. "Your father stole something from me he never should have touched." My heart was pounding whether from fear or from how close he was, I couldn't tell. His face came near enough to feel his breath. "Everyone who walks into this room ends up one of two ways." His gaze settled on my lips, like a beast deciding whether to tear into me or let me live.

"You become mine."

His lips stopped a breath from mine. He didn't kiss me. Instead he smiled, crueler than before. "Or you become a corpse."