The Mafia Man's Trophy [On Hold]

Chapter 14.

Dominic

I had always known that there was something I found unnerving about this girl. The thought of her plagued my mind like a hangnail that pained you everytime you tried to remove it.

She was ingrained in my thoughts. The mysterious brown skinned girl my father had claimed to own, was a complex creature.

She was nothing like the women I was used to.

She wasn't willing and wild, she wasn't carefree and irresponsible, she wasn't easy and eager.

She was timid, yet tough, she was rebellious, yet submissive at the same time.

She was indeed a mystery, an interesting one too.

From the very first moment I watched her storm into the mansion soaked in blood, then from the time I pointed a gun to her, right down to the moment I ate her out, and then watched her change like a cameleon in the presence of her sister, she had never left my subconscious thought.

Private initiations were untraditional in the mafia, and for father to do such, spoke volumes about how much he held this girl and her younger sister, whom I didn't know existed until a day before she arrived here, in high regards.

If it weren't for the private meeting that was held with father, Viktor and I, a day after the yacht party, I wouldn't even have known that Scarlette existed.

I was righfully upset, at myself.
But more than that, I was annoyed.

I was annoyed that there were so many layers to this girl that I immensely desired to know, yet neglected discovering.

It was killing me on the inside, the urge I felt to peel back each layer until I reached her fleshy center, and knew who she truly was.

Not by just taking what my father had told me about her, or by the file he had on her, but things she shared with me.

Why was I so obsessed with knowing who she really was?

- and why did my father have such a doting interest in her?

In reality, all I needed to do was pull her file and read - but I neglected doing that, I never found, nor made the time to do that. But tonight, that'd all change.

There was something about her that my father found admirable for a lack of better word, and I wanted to find out what it was that made him keep her around.

Her expertise couldn't be the only reason, and I wasn't buying it.

I had planned to do just that in the only way I really knew how, but watching her as her demeanor shifted, made me pause.

She recoiled when I brushed my fingers against my cheek and her body trembled when I grinded my pelvis into her.

It all happened unconsciously, I could see it in the way her eyes dim and lost its glow as she was sucked deep into her mind.

It wasn't the first time she flinched away from my touch, she had done it the first time we met too - that time on the yacht when I had her cornered, and I felt like if I watched closely enough, I would realize I wasn't the only one she'd recoiled from.

Her breathing came out shorter than they normally did, and although my presence might've contributed to that, I wasn't ignorant to the point in which I could ignore the signs of an impending panic attack, and that's why I halted my advances and retreated a few steps until she calmed down.

It's obvious from her physical reaction to a man's touch that she was abused as a child, maybe even as a teen.

The thought made my blood simmer.