Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Emelia

Fear hit me the minute I stepped out of the car.

Then I saw the house. A mansion right on the beach. Dark and foreboding just like Massimo. The property seemed vast, like it stretched on forever, and in the moonlight all I could see was land and the gentle breath of the sea pulling in and out from the shoreline.

Wealth. That’s what it all said. Money and power. Money and power enough to buy a person.

Whenever I was scared, I used to run to Jacob, or at least call him. Tonight, I can’t do either. I can’t leave this place, and my phone was the first thing to get taken once we stepped inside the house. An elderly woman had come to the door. Curiosity filling her features. Although she said nothing to me as the men marched me in, I caught the glimpse of curiosity in her eyes and what I recognized to be fear.

The men marched me up a wide set of stairs and up to the first floor, where we carried on to the room I’m in now. They switched on the lights then left me.

That was roughly half an hour ago, but it feels like forever. I’m not sure which is worst-being left to my thoughts by myself or being around these people, scared and waiting for what’s supposed to happen next.

The room I’m in is massive: the floor is hardwood, it has a four-poster bed, grand mahogany furniture, and an entire wall made of glass that has a stunning view of the sea and the rock formations against the beach. With the glow of the silver moonlight it looks like a glimpse of a fairytale.

But this is not a fairytale. I feel more like I’m trapped in a Tim Burton film, stuck in a nightmare I can’t escape.

I sunk to the floor with my back against the wall and allowed myself to cry. I’m scared and I feel sick. I feel like throwing up.

The last time I felt this shaken was when Mom was sick and we knew there was nothing we could do for her. We knew she was going to die. It was Jacob who was there for me because Dad dealt with his grief by shunning everyone. Including me. I think of Jacob and know that he will be worried. He will call me and get no answer, then worry some more. I’ll bet too that he’ll go to the house in the morning to check, just to be sure I’m okay.

Will Dad tell him what happened to me? I doubt it. Jacob will go crazy, and it would not be good for him if he did that.

There’s a side to my father that I’ve caught glimpses of but didn’t see in regard to me until earlier tonight. As he squeezed my hand like he would break it if I disobeyed, I felt the desperation. I would never want anyone to get hurt.

I would never want Jacob to get hurt just for knowing me and trying to be my friend by protecting me.

Not even a handful of hours ago, my thoughts were consumed with going to Florence tomorrow. Now, my dream is just that: a dream. A thing my heart wants. I have to push that all aside to think about what is happening to me here and now.

The reality of the situation is this: I’m supposed to marry and live with Massimo D’Agostino for the rest of my life, and I’m just supposed to accept that?

How?

I can’t believe Dad would do this to me.

And realistically, what now? I’m in this bedroom. Is it his? It must be. Why would they take me to a guestroom if I belong to him? This room must be his. No one spoke to me at all. No one said anything, not to me or each other.

They just deposited me here like the thing I am and left.

What will happened when he gets back? Will he take my virginity? Would he care that I’m a virgin?

Men like him don’t care. They take. I’ll be here for sex.

I won’t be stupid enough to think he’ll be mine too. Like Dad, he’ll have his women. I already know he’ll be just like that. Just from the way he looks. I never wanted my life to turn out like this. When I married, I always hoped it would be for love. That I’d fall in love. This is complete shit.

The bedroom door handle turns, and I nearly jump out of my skin. The door creaks open, and I see him.

He’s here.

Massimo stands in the doorframe looking me over. He seems taller, and the longer he stares at me, the more intense those piercing blue eyes seem against his olive skin. My breath hitches in my throat and my heart races.

Terrified, I push to my feet as he walks in and closes the door behind him.

I find myself wanting to look away, but at the same time his striking appearance commands my attention and rivets my gaze to him, making it difficult for me to focus. I think I’d find this easier if he weren’t so ridiculously gorgeous. He’s the kind of man who you would naturally stare at.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

I’m paralyzed under the weight of his stare, and the anticipation of what he’s going to do makes me want to run. Run far away and never look back.

He gets closer but stops a few paces away, still towering over me. The scent of his aftershave fills my nose. I grit my teeth.

“There’s a bed for you to lie on. You don’t have to take to the floor,” he says, breaking the silence.

Unsure of what to say, I decide not to answer.

“Unless you like the floor,” he adds. His voice deepens as it drops, and my nerves scatter when he looks me over from head to toe, assessing me.

He’s about six foot four, while I’m five two. He feels like a giant next to me.

“This isn’t right,” I rasp. My voice sounds weak and weary, foreign to my ears. I don’t sound like the strong woman my mother raised me to be. I don’t sound like the woman I was earlier this morning when I woke and told myself I was going to conquer the world and be the best version of myself I could be.

“What?” The corners of his lips turn up into a smooth smile, revealing perfect white teeth.

Of course, his smile is also beautiful and disarming. Maybe that’s what he uses to intimidate people.

“You can’t do this. You can’t have me,” I answer, trying to steady my heart so it doesn’t leap out of my chest.

“The piece of paper we signed earlier says different, Princesca.”

Princesca…

If he means that word in relation to me being a spoilt brat, he’s wrong. I’m not that. I never have been. Yes, I may have never wanted for anything in my life, but that doesn’t mean I was given everything just because I wanted it.

“You don’t know me,” I retort.

“I don’t need to.”

“You’re right, you don’t need to know me to know this is wrong. There must be some other way my father can pay you back. Let me go.” I’m proud of myself for the little speech, but the pride fades when a deep chuckle rumbles within the walls of his hard chest.

“I’m the one the debt is owed. I choose how I want to be paid. I choose what I want to take.”

“So, you picked me?” I give him an incredulous glare. “Why the hell would you pick me?”

As soon as the words fall from my lips, I feel completely stupid. I’m my father’s heir, and I get the Balesteri family inheritance when I turn twenty-one. My inheritance alone is worth several million. That contract stipulated Massimo would get everything.

“My dear Princesca, you really are living in the dark.” He smirks, revealing the dimple in his left cheek.

“There must be some other way.”

“I’m sure there is, except I’ve done exactly what I wanted to do,” he answers. My heart squeezes. It feels like a rug has been pulled from beneath me. This is the man I’m supposed to marry. While he looks like a fairytale prince, he’s not.

My lips part, but I’m at a loss for words.

“So… you see, it can’t be any other way, Emelia Balesteri. I marry you, and I get everything you own. You belong to me, and everything you have and will get belongs to me too.”

“It’s wrong. You must know that.”

“Stop it,” he orders. His smile fades. That cool, calm demeanor returns, and I realize then that this is his dangerous side.

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to prey on my good side. I don’t have one. Don’t think I’m good just because I stopped your father from hurting you. I’m not.”

I tremble now as his gaze bores into me. He’s telling me things I should know, but mostly he’s saying I have no hope.

“Don’t you have a heart?” My voice has reverted to the weak tone it took when I first spoke as I make one final attempt to reach whatever I see in him that might resemble something human.

“No,” he answers. “I have no heart, Princesca.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I don’t know you.”

“Massimo D’Agostino, age twenty-nine, soon-to-be owner of D’Agostino Inc. Last check came up clean.” He smirks, and my soul quivers. “We will be married in one month’s time. You will live here, and that is all you need to know.”

“You think that’s enough,” I lash back.

“It’s enough because I say so. Enough nitty-gritty. I think I’ve given you enough answers to your questions. Now, take your clothes off.”