Page 13 of Mafia Daddy

He stops walking. I feel him behind me, tall and immovable. “Kidnap? No. This arrangement protects both our families. You would do well to remember that.”

I turn to face him, tilting my chin up even though he towers over me. The classical music is still playing softly in the background, something slow and dramatic that matches the tension crackling between us.

Up close like this, he’s even more intimidating.

Sharp jaw, dark hair with the faintest threads of silver at the temples, and those eyes that seem to see straight through every wall I try to put up.

Scary. Controlled. And yeah… that undeniable Daddy energy I felt earlier is back in full force. The way he speaks, the quiet commands, the absolute certainty that I’ll obey.

I shove the thought down again, but it lingers like heat between my thighs.

We continue the tour.

Maxim shows me the kitchen—state-of-the-art espresso machine and all—and the corridor lined with more art. Every few steps he points out another camera or sensor. I’m equal parts humiliated and impressed. By the time we circle back toward the living area, my cheeks are burning.

My captor stops near the massive windows overlooking the city. Rain is still falling, streaking the glass in silver lines. He turns to me fully, hands clasped behind his back like some kind of dark prince surveying his domain.

“You have questions,” he says. It isn’t a guess. “Ask them now.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. A thousand questions swirl in my head—what happens tomorrow, how long I’m stuck here, whether I’ll ever see Charles again—but the one that slips out first is smaller than I expect…

“Can I have my phone back?”

His expression doesn’t change. “Not tonight. Tomorrow we will discuss rules. Boundaries. What I expect from you. And how you can earn my trust.”

Rules.

The word sends another unwanted shiver through me. I hate how my body reacts to him. Hate how part of me—the secret, needy Little part I’ve kept hidden from almost everyone—perks up at the thought of structure and control from a man like him.

I look away, staring out at the glittering lights instead. “This is bullshit.”

“Perhaps,” Maxim replies calmly. “But it is your new reality. The sooner you accept it, the easier this will be for both of us.”

He steps closer again, not touching me this time, but near enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. The air between us feels thick, charged. For a second I wonder if he’s going to put his hands on my throat again. Part of me almost wants him to.

Instead he simply nods toward the hallway. “Go back to your room. Unpack properly. Rest. We will talk more in the morning.”

I don’t argue this time.

I turn and walk away, feeling his eyes on my back the entire way. When I reach my bedroom door I pause, hand on the knob, and glance back once.

Maxim is still standing by the windows, watching me with that same unreadable intensity.

I slip inside and close the door, leaning against it for a long moment. Zoop is waiting on the bed where I left him. I crawl onto the mattress and pull him into my arms, curling up on my side.

The city sparkles outside.

Classical music still drifts faintly through the walls.

And somewhere out there, Maxim Kovalev is already planning exactly how he’s going to break me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper into Zoop’s ear, “We’re really in it now, buddy.”

But even as fear and defiance war inside my chest, that traitorous heat from earlier refuses to die.

I am in so, so, so much trouble…

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