2. I am engaged

"Princess, where are you?"

My eyes shot open, and my body froze when his deep, velvety voice sliced through the heavy silence.

No. No, no, no.

My heart throbbed in my ears, and my breath became uneven as I pressed harder into the locker, silently praying for it to crack and melt me inside. I should have run or screamed for help, but my body didn't cooperate. I stopped breathing.

Maybe if I stayed still enough, he would go back, thinking I was not here.

But the next moment, my eyes widened when I heard a click as the door shut closed.

He knows... He knows that I am here.

He was just pretending to search for me. My stomach clenched, and thick beads of sweat burst on my entire body.

I was with him. Alone.

What if he attacked me again? No! He won’t. I need to stay strong. I have to fight him. I have to take a stand for myself.

I swallowed down the fear, curling my trembling hands into fists. The way he took slow and deliberate steps toward me felt like he was purposely playing with my fear, relishing it. It was entertainment for him. Dad was right. He is a monster, and I need to stay away from him. I flinched slightly when suddenly the lights filled the room. A strangled breath left my lips as I saw him, standing just a few feet away.

Nikolai De Moretti. The Mafia King.

My green-eyed monster. My nightmare in the form of a dangerously beautiful man.

He appeared to have stepped straight out of a dark fantasy book. His raven-black hair were perfectly styled. He wore a crisp black suit that molded to his sculpted body like a second skin, and his beard was perfectly trimmed to match his jaw. His haunting, emerald-green eyes shone with wicked amusement. My knees wobbled, and I had to press my hands against the wall behind me to keep myself upright.

One side of his lips curled up into a dangerous smirk, and I shivered. He was enjoying this.

He always enjoys his power over the weak. This is what I hate most about him. His inhuman ways of torturing people are known to everyone. He rules them all. He rules this country! Even the politicians and police officers bow before him. He could ruin lives with a single flick of his finger.

Suddenly, he took another step forward, closing the distance between us. His dark, musky, expensive cologne enveloped me like a blanket, making it hard for me to breathe.

He was close. Too close. And too familiar. I could feel his warmth seeping into my skin. My head began to spin, and my heart throbbed in my chest. It felt as if I was going to have a panic attack.

Nikolai shoved his hands into his pockets, and our breaths mingled when he leaned in slightly. Not even a single inch of his body touched mine, yet I felt tingles all over my skin.

"Missed me?" His voice was laced with amusement.

Drawing a deep breath, I lifted my chin, trying to match his burning gaze. I knew I could never match his intensity, but that didn't mean I should act like a scared cat in front of him. I couldn't let him see my fear or take advantage of it.

If he is a Mafia King, I am Alessia Rossi. I needed to remember whose daughter I was.

"What are you doing here?" My voice shook slightly, and I cursed myself for it.

His smirk only deepened, making my stomach twist.

"You at least recognized me."

I exhaled sharply and looked away, my nails digging into my palm, my knuckles turning white.

"You dance well."

His compliment only fueled my anger. I wanted to push him away, but I knew I could not match his physical strength. By taking this foolish action, I would only end up in his clutches, which is exactly what he wanted.

Then suddenly, I felt his touch.

My breath hitched when his fingers grasped my chin, tilting my face up. The contact was featherlight but burned hotter than fire.

"You know I don’t like it when someone looks away when I’m talking," he murmured, looking straight into my soul.

My fists clenched at my sides, and my nose flared slightly as I glared back at him, despite trembling inside.

"I don't care about your likes or dislikes," I stated, "nor am I interested."

I expected him to be taken aback by my comment, but the amused glint in his eyes intensified. He pressed his lips together as if trying to hold back a smile.

"So, my scared little kitten is turning into a feisty tigress now?" One of his eyebrows shot up as he tilted his head slightly. "Interesting."

I felt my whole body heat up when he called me his. He thinks he owns me, but he is wrong. I need to break his delusion.

"I am not yours," I stated.

The air around me shifted. Amusement vanished from his expression, which now darkened, sending chills down my spine. Though his hold on my chin was gentle, his eyes glinted with pure rage, as if he wanted to snap me in half.

His jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth tightly. His hand slowly moved down to my neck, his fingers wrapping around my throat—possessively.

Just as I thought he was going to squeeze the life out of me, he leaned forward. His hot breath blew across my forehead before he pressed his lips against it.

My entire body locked up.

His nose brushed against the side of my face as he moved down to inhale deeply at the crook of my neck. His nose barely touched, yet my skin burned in response.

"Not mine?" he asked, applying slight pressure with his fingers around my throat.

My entire body was suddenly on fire. Why was I feeling this way, knowing he was a monster and what he had done to me in the past?

I took a deep breath; my heart threatened to burst. I needed to fight him! I needed to fight this feeling!

Putting my hands against his chest, I pushed him away with all my strength, and to my amazement, he stumbled back. I couldn’t tell if it was because of me or if he did it on purpose.

"NO!" I said loudly and clearly, "I am not yours. You heard me!"

I thought he would shout, scream, or lunge at me again, but instead, he started laughing and throwing his head back. It felt like a cruel joke.

"So you are still living in your dreamland, huh?" He stepped forward, grazing my palm with his knuckles, sending tingles down my skin. "It's okay. You will learn soon enough."

His fingers trailed down, gliding over the curve of my neck to my collarbone. I stopped breathing when his fingers curved around my breasts shamelessly before pausing on my stomach, just above the mysterious mark.

For some strange reason, his touch felt so familiar.

"You still react." That glint returned to his eyes. "Interesting."

He chuckled and stepped back. I exhaled a deep breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"You are wrong if you think you can control me!" I stated.

His eyes snapped to me.

"You have already stolen my life from me. You killed my mother; you betrayed my father to become a Mafia king yourself. I will not let you destroy us anymore," I spat, with all the rage burning inside me. "I will not let you claim me."

For a moment, silence spread between us, which he broke with his cruel laugh. It felt like a game to him, and the cards were already in his hands.

"That's not for you to decide, princess," he smirked.

Turning around, he walked to my locker. I watched in horror as he pulled out my costume, brought it to his face, and inhaled deeply as if it was a drug and he were intoxicated.

My stomach twisted in terror and disgust. I could feel goosebumps all over my body.

“Damn, princess,” he growled into the fabric. “You smell like fucking heaven.”

I felt so sick and violated.

“You are insane,” I spat.

“I prefer devoted,” he said, looking at me over his shoulder. "I see nothing wrong with worshipping everything that’s yours. Because you belong to me."

My jaw clenched, and my patience snapped. I can't hold it any longer. I can't!

I need this to end right now, right here. So I did what I felt was right. I announced my truth to break his illusion.

"I am engaged.”