Promised punishment

The lady in the torn dress stood in the dim light of the warehouse, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, a testament to the ruthless world she inhabited. Sherry felt her heart race, anxiety pooling in her stomach as she realized the implications of what she had done. In her reckless moment of defiance, she had ruined something that belonged to one of the mafia’s most feared figures.

“Who does he think he is, letting me wear this garbage?” she muttered under her breath, her fingers trembling as they brushed over the jagged tear. The fever still clung to her like a ghost, a reminder of the moment Dallion had made her wear this dress only to humiliate her. In retaliation, she had ripped the fabric apart, each pull of the thread on the was just her small act of rebellion. But now, that rebellion felt like a noose tightening around her neck.

“I’ll have to make an example of this one,” Dallion’s voice cut through her thoughts, icy and commanding. He stepped closer to Lady Ada, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “Apologies for the dress. It seems my tailor has lost his touch.”

“Please don’t apologize,” Lady Ada stammered, her face flushed red. Sherry couldn’t tell if the heat was from embarrassment or fury, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the glint in Dallion’s eyes as he scrutinized her, the weight of his gaze making her stomach drop. “I’ll see to it he pays for this insult.”

“No need,” he replied smoothly, his tone dripping with menace. “I’ll handle it personally.” The way he emphasized "personally" sent a shiver down Sherry’s spine.

Lady Ada nodded in understanding before she excused herself, hurriedly exiting the room as she pulled the remains of her dress around her shoulders. Sherry watched her go, dread pooling in her gut. The woman had a spark—one that attracted men like moths to a flame—but Sherry saw only a ticking clock, a reminder that time was running out for her.

“Now, we’re alone,” Dallion purred, his voice low and predatory as he advanced toward her. Sherry took a step back, the walls closing in around her. She could feel the weight of his presence, the aura of danger that surrounded him. “Did you think you could get away with this?”

Her heart raced, a rabbit caught in a wolf’s gaze. “What do you mean?” she stammered, trying to project innocence even as the truth settled like lead in her stomach.

“Don’t play games with me, little mouse,” he warned, leaning closer. “You think I wouldn’t notice the threads you pulled? You’re clever, but not clever enough.” His red eyes locked onto hers, searching for any hint of deceit.

“How could you possibly know?” she whispered, her bravado faltering as she recalled her hidden past. She thought her secrets were buried deep, but here he was, exposing her with a single glance.

“Pure blood mafia king like me have sharper instincts than you realize. I heard you in the bathroom,” he chuckled darkly, his smile a twisted thing. “How rude of you to damage what’s mine. My little pet should understand the consequences of her actions.” He tilted his head, contemplating her fate, and Sherry felt a cold dread creeping up her spine. She now understood why his bathroom had no door but a thin curtain despite the lavish house.

“Spare me,” she pleaded, desperation seeping into her voice as she sensed the predatory glint in his eyes.

“No can do,” he replied, shaking his head. “You see, I can't have you thinking you can act without punishment. If I let you off this time, who knows what other mischief you’ll stir up?” He stepped back, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I’ll ensure you remember this lesson when we return home. I hope you’re looking forward to it.”

Sherry’s breath hitched. The darkness surrounding him seemed to thicken, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was standing on the edge of a precipice.

At that moment, the door swung open, and the maid returned, her eyes wide as she assessed the scene. Dallion turned his attention to her, and Sherry could see the change in him—an unsettling calm mixed with a flicker of danger.

“Mr. Cross, would you like a drink?” the maid asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Your blood would suffice,” he said nonchalantly, and Sherry’s heart dropped. Was he serious? He really wanted the girl dead.

“Surely, you jest,” the maid laughed nervously, but Dallion’s expression remained unwavering.

“I never joke about food,” he replied, his tone smooth yet laced with threat. “A meal is a meal, and I don’t discriminate.”

Just then, Lady Ada re-entered the room, wearing a new outfit that showcased her figure perfectly. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the maid standing too close to Dallion, a protective instinct flaring to life.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, scanning the room. But when her gaze landed on Dallion, a coy smile replaced her earlier discomfort.

“Your maid here was refusing me a drink,” Dallion said, his casual demeanor belied by the intensity in his eyes.

Without a word, Lady Ada strode up to the maid, fury radiating from her as she slapped the girl across the face, the sound reverberating in the warehouse. “How dare you disobey? Do you know who you’re dealing with?”

The maid fell to the ground, shock and fear painting her features. Sherry felt a rush of anger, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Dallion’s warning silenced her.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and commanding. She met his gaze, feeling the weight of his control pressing down on her.

Lady Ada continued her tirade, kicking the maid as she spat venomous words of disdain. Sherry’s heart raced as she watched, knowing she was trapped in a world of chaos, with no way to escape the darkness surrounding her.