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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
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THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The elevator doors spread wide before them. Butterflies flittered in herstomach.Clint hustled out into the hallway, his hand clamped around hers, hisexpression one of pained resolve. The rock-hard erection stretching hispants taut might've had something to do with his expression—and hisruthless pace. They'd made out in his car all the way to their destination,shamelessly oblivious of hisd driver. Her lips still tingled from hisdemanding, almost frenzied kisses. She'd responded in kind, as frantic as hewas to get naked and get it on.He halted them at the door to his apartment. His voice rough, he asked,"Are you good??"" yes ." Her desperate voice betrayed her "Uh-huh." He stared at her for a couple of seconds, as if seeing her forthe first time. Then he shook off his confusion—literally, with a flap of hishead. He unlocked the door, ushering her inside with a hand on her back.Her mind traveled back to the moment before entering the car when he scooped her
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Genevieve rubbed her bare arms, buck naked yet not embarrassed at all. How did Clint do this to her? Make her aroused and aware, of her body and his, without an ounce of guilt. A draft tickled her flesh, sensitized by hot sex and Clint's sizzling gaze on her, the eye contact somehow more thrilling thanhis touch. He gazed at her with more than lust, with…adoration.He skimmed his hands down her body, over her shoulders and aroundher back, down her spine and back around to her sides. His fingers curvedaround her hips.The memory of Clint ripping off her panties and thrusting into heragain and again roared through her mind in a full-sensory experience. Noman had ever ravished her before. When he'd carried her into the bedroom, plopping her down beside the bed, her heartbeat had revved up at the hope he might keep on ravishing her. Though satiated by her explosive orgasm,she craved more of him. Would she ever stop craving Clint Covington ?He stood before her, his jeans undon
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
A tickling sensation feathered across her face rousing Genevieve from a dreamless slumber. She yawned and scratched at her face. The tickling moved to her forehead. She peeled her eyes open, reluctant to give up her languid serenity. Holding a lock of her hair, Clint had fanned it out into a little brush and was skipping it along her brow. During the night, she'd turned onto her side and he now spooned herwith his hard body oddly soft against her backside. One of his musculararms draped over the pillow above her head with his hand lying slack. That was the one tickling her with her own hair. His other arm rested on her body, stretched over her hip, his fingers manipulating the flesh of her thigh,stimulating her to full wakefulness and keen awareness of him. She inhaled deeply, stretching, reveling in the enduring afterglow oftheir fevered passion.He pressed his lips to her ear. "Morning."An object poked her from behind. A long, hard object. She cleared herthroat. "It's hal
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Genevieve was in love and head over heels for Clint, she decided to go with Clint to his family house to pack a few things, while she waited inside the car he went straight in to get his things. Covington walked in and packed some few clothes , he had earlier received an email from one of his men who served as his eyes. They updated him about his superiors who were after his life , ever since his actions during his vacation about getting married and quitting his work with them they have been tailing him and now they finally know where he lives . They were going to find him and kill him especially Genevieve whom they perceive as his weakness. Jennifer walked in immediately after knocking for hours and getting no response " Clint is that you?." She asked as she walked towards his room As she walked closer she felt someone walk behind her and she stopped to see a shadow behind her , she froze on the spot and screamed, Clint heard a her screaming and ran out of his room to see
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
“Good. Now, there are servants in the house. Don’t take that as hope. They will not help you. The phone goes through a switchboard. The operator won’t help you either. If you seek their help, they will report it to me and you’ll be punished.”She flinched at the warm hand on the back of her neck, but he wasn’t there to hurt her. Instead, he massaged the tight muscles, a feeling that was comforting in spite of everything. She shouldn’t want his hands anywhere near her, but if she was stuck with this man, she much preferred kindness to cruelty or pain.“I can’t let you go, and I won’t be able to resist killing you . But I’ll be good to you if you let me, Genevieve . Are you going to let me?”Each time her name rolled off his tongue, it was as if a piece of her will broke off from her and floated away. She wanted to argue about belonging to him but knew that wasn’t the way to get to the kindness he offered. She nodded, not wanting to have to call him his name again. He let it slide.
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
In between her moments of fear and indignation, he'd glimpsed the half-starved glances she’d aimed his way. It was the effect he’d always had on women. The combination of danger, money, and looks was too irresistible for most females of the species—even a captive like Genevieve whom he had just pretend to love .He did not want to imagine how disappointed she must be .He intended to make this as easy on her as possible, if she’d let him. Each tiny step toward complete submission would be rewarded. Each misstep, punished. By the time he was finished with her, she would crave him so deeply, she wouldn’t remember this had all started with her forceful loss of freedom.It had been a long night, especially so close to Christmas. Though he couldn’t imagine his men caring one way or the other about how Genevieve had come to be here, the maid and the workers didn’t need to know. He’d have to make sure only the trusted ones have acess to her .Once he’d made the choice to get involved in R
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Dave stared at the moon shining in through the large windows, gritting his teeth as Genevieve’s breath evened out in sleep, the cat still purring in her arms. It was so simple. She was attracted to him. She was desperate to stay safe. That equation should have added up right.But the amount of terror she’d experienced at a mild spanking told him all he needed to know. If there had been any doubt, when he’d slipped his finger inside her, he’d known. She’d been dry. No arousal. No reaction. She wasn’t kinky. Not even a little bit.In a perfect world, Genevieve would have had secret fantasies about being dominated her whole life. She would have tried to resist, but her body would betray her.No matter how scared and upset she was, her cunt would have been at least a little wet. Her clit would be swollen. She’d be flushed and flustered. If she already found him physically attractive, which she’d admitted to, a mild spanking would have her body reacting to him in a favorable way. Instea
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY
It was a full three days before Clint saw Genevieve again. He’d been careful to avoid her as he was sure she’d been careful to avoid him. But it was inevitable they’d run into each other eventually. As it happened, they both went to the kitchen one afternoon at the same time for a late lunch.She jumped when she saw him, and he had to bite back a curse. He found himself angry with her. He’d uprooted his routine to stay out of her way. He was letting her live. He wasn’t molesting her. He was taking care of her needs and keeping her comfortable. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Except keeping her locked away against her will.He’d seen her naked. And touched her breast. Had sex . And spanked her. None of that should be cause for this much anxiety or jumpiness, no matter who he was. He glanced down, noticing his erection and knew she must have noticed it, too.“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. But the gruff way he said it didn’t sound believable to his own ears. For the past three
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THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
Five months later Clint slept well and rose early to use the gym at his house before leaving for the office. He had several meetings this morning, both business and charitable affairs. He was overseeing the building of a state of the art residential centre for the disabled and it was very close to completion. He was very happy with it and looking forward to its opening.He was the first to arrive. He saw Rafalle come in behind him. Once they had all arrived he held a quick team meeting with the brokers, ensuring everything was running smoothly and he was up to speed. He opened Genevieve’s door. “How is your head today?”“Oh, much better, thank you.”“Good.” He left her to her work, no time for anything else, though it occupied his mind constantly. Genevieve was pleased he had come in, happy that things still seemed to be ok between them. She has kept her pregnancy from him because she had feared he wasn't ready , somehow he found out she was hiding something and he has been cold t
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY SIX
Clint sat in his den with Raffalle over copious amounts of alcohol.“Well?”Since the previous day, he’d been a crazed lunatic, intent on revengeand blood and death for the bullets that had been meant for him but had hitthe woman he loved instead.“It was one of Dogan Hampster men. When I caught up to him, he wouldn’t talk.Brady and I had to overpower him and tie him down. It took hours before Igot the full story.”“And?”“You won’t like it. Beatrice told him what you did to Alva’shusband and how you were going to settle down with Genevieve and stop all business .”Clint paced the floor, regret and the weight of responsibility crushinghim. Beatrice should never have been at their family Christmas. But even so,if he hadn’t played with her, used her body and screwed with her mind, shemight not have gone to one of his business men set on instigating violence.“I know Beatrice is your best friend and you and Beatrice have history,but she’s a loose cannon. She’s da
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
Genevieve stood at the back of the rows of chairs with her veil in place, abouquet of white roses in her hands. The wedding was all white. Whitechairs. White flowers. White candles. A white runner on the ground for herto walk on. The only thing besides the tuxedos that weren’t white were theclothing of the guests and her bright red hair.The reception, by contrast, had been planned under large tents withJapanese lanterns and bright jewel tones. It reminded Genevieve of the Wizard ofOz where everything went from black and white to color, and it gave her thesmallest shred of hope that her life with Clint would be in color.Raffalle had offered to walk her down the aisle. He stood next to herlooking more like an aging bodyguard than a father figure.He leaned close to her ear. “I think you know a lot more about thisfamily than you should.” Her back went rigid. Raffalle was the type of man who would shootyou on any day of the year, be it your birthday, your graduati
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
Genevieve sat in front of a mirror in the many-windowed room in the eastwing. Her wedding veil lay before her on the vanity table.Alva hadoffered to help her get ready, but it was only a ruse to try to talk Genevieve out ofmarrying her Clint . It was anathema to her that Clint should be happy afterkilling her husband.“I know Clint is very charming, but you know what he did toElliott . What makes you think you’re safe with him?”As if Genevieve needed more things to fear. Though Clint hadn’t harmed her since that one night, it always existed as a possibility now.“Clint loves me,” she said. It hurt to say it because he’d never uttered the words, and she had no reason to believe it. But people assumedmarriage was about love, and if she didn’t speak in terms of romance and candy that his sister could relate to, someone might see through the whole ploy. And they were so close to the end.“Clint loves Clint .”Clint held back the urge to cry as Alva gave voice to her grea
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Clint’s erection had grown physically painful, but he’d gagged her andwasn’t ready to replace the gag with his cock yet. Tears streamed down herface as he laid down lines of welts across her ass with the cane. He neededto make her cry more. She had to earn her pleasure with tears. Enough timehad passed for that to be the price.The gag frightened her, still, which drove him harder to use it. She needn’t fear. He knew when enough was enough with her. He’d beencareful and exercised restraint. Each time the cane came down, she wincedin a way that both made him want to comfort her and hit her again to watchthat reaction… the intense expression of pain on her face, the tears that rolled down, and the lovely welt as it bloomed so quickly into those sharp red lines with the groove he loved to run his tongue along.He knew what the cane felt like. Though, used properly, it didn’t oftenbreak skin, the hard rap of a thin dowel of rattan or steel always left aprofound impress
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Genevieve , did you know that a lot of what we call pain is about expectation? When you expect something to hurt a lot, and you tense allyour muscles, it hurts more. If you can relax and flow with it, it hurts less.Think of yourself like a stream flowing softly over rocks. The jagged edgesof the rocks don’t hurt the water, it just flows.” He allowed his voice to drop an octave as he spoke, becoming softer and less harsh, lulling her into a sense of safety.The music he’d selected fit well with the imagery he fed into her mind.He spoke quietly about water and flow and relaxing while he let his hands trail over her back, still wrapped in the warm cocoon of the blanket.He continued to speak as he went to the thermostat to raise it a couple of degrees. As the room warmed, he took the blanket away. She tensed, but not as much as before, so he poured some oil onto his hands to allow his skin to slide more easily against hers.He started at her neck, then worked down her back and
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Weeks passed. Clint healed. They returned to the world upstairs.He watched her across the table at dinner—her cheeseburger special.He didn’t know how she made them taste like they’d come right off arestaurant grill.Genevieve pretended to be consumed with the task of swirling a steak fry in a giant glob of ketchup on her plate.“I’ll speak to Raffalle . He might agree to release you if I convince him you aren’t a threat to the family. And I’ll smooth things over with your boss, so you won’t have to worry about him, either. To everyone else, I’ll say webroke off the engagement.”Genevieve’s ring glittered in the kitchen light. Clint hadn’t insisted she wear it all the time, but she had. And every time he saw it on her hand, he became more convinced she wanted their engagement to be real.But her happy ending came at a dark price… a price Clint felt increasingly guilty asking her to pay, no matter how much he wanted to keep her locked away in the glass room. If that night in
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY
The eerie music played on as they lay in bed. Some of the songs she recognized, some she didn’t. There couldn’t be more than an hour on the record. Hadn’t they been down here months? Years? But it must have been less than an hour. Was time even real? The curtain had been pulled back to reveal the void where every second was eternity, and there was no way back out again to where time marched on like obedient linear soldiers.She’d tried to prepare herself for the hitting, but when Clint bent her over and fucked her instead while she was too scared to be turned on, itbrought everything home. She was his property. She didn’t want this, but he’d been in the grip of something she didn’t feel strong enough to breakthrough. The Clint that acknowledged her wouldn’t be the one she thought she’d fallen in love with.Whatever romantic fantasies she’d had of love between them scattered and faded into the empty air. Why did it have to be like this?And to allow him to kiss her like that… to r
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Genevieve’s appetite had fled the moment he’d said he was taking her to thedungeon. She was glad he hadn’t forced her to eat dinner because she was sure she wouldn’t be able to keep it down.For the past week she’d been on edge, her appetite shrinking each day.If Clint had noticed, he hadn’t said anything. Each day she woke wondering if today was the day. She wasn’t like those other women. She couldn’t do this.The reality of what was coming should have made her hate him. It should have wiped away any residual attraction or fuzzy emotion. If it could have, she might have begged to be released from her promise. Even if itmeant she’d never have love or companionship, it would protect her from the things downstairs.But she still felt for him, and watching him take other women wouldonly kill her by degrees. When he’d pulled her into his arms, he was the safest person in the world. She’d almost forgotten he was the cause of her angst.When he opened that metal door, she thought
