STOLEN || 18+ (Monsters #3)

.38. Do your worst

I have to admit, I am a little lost.
I have to admit, I like it a lot

. . .

Leyla

"The only thing perfect in my life is my eyeliner." Olivia's voice came through the phone. "I swear to God these three piss me the hell off."

I heard a voice in the background. "...Come back to bed, little one."

"Go away, Ashton!" She sighed. "Anyways. We got your sisters out. Gabriella contacted me, somehow."

I frowned. So the Valentinos had not told her about the phone? I had told Gabby to contact Olivia the day we had talked about her bakery boy.

"Can I meet them?"

"Ask your captors," she muttered. "Have they hurt you?"

"No...Giovanni made a blood vow not to. He said Fabiano will do the same."

"Oh..." She whispered. "Well then now it's clear they'll never hurt you."

"Blood vow is a big deal?"

"Yes. Every honourable man in the mafia keeps his blood vow. It's usually made to the people you love, vowing protection."

"Did the Creeds ever do that for you?"

"Yes," she grumbled. "During our honeymoon, they decide to cut open their palms to promise something they already did."

I sat on the bed, Giovanni's phone pressed to my ear. My hair was still a little wet. I let it dry naturally. He had exited the room after room, muttering that Olivia wanted to talk to me.

"Wow," I mumbled. "I'll never understand what your four have."

"Most people don't," she admitted. "But you will, I think."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Is there any woman in the mansion with a collar?"

"Ah...there were weeks ago but not now. It's just me, them, the staff and the countless guards."

"Oh," she said softly.

"What?" I asked. "Tell me, Olivia."

"There is a possibility that they feel something for you," she said. "I'm not saying that their feelings justify their actions. But there is a possibility that they feel something for you."

"Lust, yes."

"No. Lust, yes, but not just that." She sighed.

I looked down at my hands. I had predicted that there could be feelings on their side. But it had seemed unlikely.

"Aren't they suppose to marry virgin mafia women?"

"They do. That doesn't mean they will. Creeds were supposed to marry for the alliance, too. Yet they got stuck with little ol' me."

"Did that cause problems?"

"Yes. With their countless uncles, it did cause problems. People said that I didn't deserve one of them, much less all of them."

"Idiot people," I mumbled.

She chuckled. "Yeah. But the rules in the Italian mafia are a lot stricter. There are still men who don't want three Capos but one."

"Oh," I said softly. "Do...Do you think they'll let me go?"

She was silent.

"Olivia."

"I don't," she said. "I've seen the way they look at you it's..."

"It's what?"

"It's the same way my husbands looks at me."

The door opened and Fabiano strolled inside. He arched an eyebrow at me. He was dressed in just short shorts. I forced my eyes away from his body.

"I'll talk to you later," I said to her.

"Okay. Take care."

I hung up.

Fabiano took the phone from me, pocketing it. "It's too cold to have wet hair, Leyla."

"Blow drying ruins my curls," I muttered standing up.

He hummed, sitting down behind me. "Get on my lap, principessa."

I looked at his face. "I-"

"Now."

I sat on his lap sideways. He instantly arranged me so that I was straddling him. His cock pressed right between my legs. I was wearing a dress again and my panties did not do much.

He cupped my face, kissing my forehead. "Your cunt is throbbing."

That made me throb more. I fixed my eyes on his chest, staying very still.

"Look at me."

I looked up slowly, dragging my eyes across the slight stubble on his face, his perfect pink lips, slightly crooked nose and finally stop at his beautiful green eyes. Jesus and all the Hindu gods and goddesses, this man was perfection.

His eyes flicked over my face. "For a shy innocent little thing, your body betrays you often."

I bit my lip, cheeks flushing. He was so naked. Too naked.

"I am going to work out," he muttered. "Come with me. And, I've been told I'm to make a blood vow."

"Y-You don't have t-"

"Yes, but I want to. Let's go to the gym, hm?"

He gently pushed me off his lap, intertwined our fingers, and led me out of the room.

We walked down the stairs. His hand was warm. I liked it.

I frowned.

I liked it.

We walled inside a room I hadn't been in before. It was a large gym and between it was a ring.

"This is so large," I muttered.

He hummed, letting go of my hand and walking to a punching sack. "You wanna try?"

I eyed it. "It'll hit me in the face."

He chuckled. The sound made my heart skip. "Come here."

I walked towards him. He took my hands in his and sat on a bench. He grabbed two punching wraps and wrapped them around my hands. He covered them with boxing gloves and kissed my head.

"I'll hold it for you." He walked to the sack, holding it. "Do your worst."

I tried.

He watched me. "Have you ever punched before?"

I pouted. "I don't like hitting people."

"What if someone wants to hurt you?" He asked quietly, looking me in the eye.

I gulped. "I-I..." I wasn't allowed to defend myself. Father didn't want that. He loved me defenceless, as did everyone who he gave me to.

"If they want to hurt me, they hurt me," I muttered. "They are usually more powerful."

. . .