1

Kristoff

"I'm disappointed in both of you. How on earth did this happen?" I probe the two figures passed out flat with the sole of my foot, swiping my eyes across the upturned contents of the little, offensive shack. I can't believe how anyone could live in such a deadbeat place, but it wasn't exactly surprising when it came to Patrick Williams. My lips curl as I take in the beautiful girl lying beside the stupid fuck, a thick cloth around her mouth and a pitch-black blindfold around her eyes.

Who is she? Are they related?

Nevermind. None of my business.

"I'm yet to receive an answer, boys."

Peter, the most sensible fool I had placed in charge of the clowns who'd fucked everything up opens his mouth to say something, then close it right back. I feel my jaw tick. I have little patience. "Well, Sir. It wasn't our plan to make her unconscious. She walked in on us. We got scared."

"You got scared?" I tilt my head to the side, suppressing a laugh. "What are you guys? Chickens? You two do know that I'm not satisfied with this, right? A simple task, and yet you ruined it."

"But, Sir - "

I held up a hand. "Enough. I don't want to hear it. Just tell me if you've found the goddamn ring."

"Yes, Sir. We've retrieved it from his closet."

"Perfect," I swivel back around. "What's the girl's name?"

Peter pulls open her wallet and retrieves an ID card. He hands it over to me and I lick my bottom lip unconsciously. Titania Williams. Beautiful name. She's twenty-two and probably Patrick's daughter or niece.

In the attached passport photograph, she's smiling at the camera, her eyes a stunning blue and her lips the rosiest pink. She looks at least seven years younger than twenty-two. Her cheekbones are well-defined, and there's something about her trimmed lashes and sculptured nose that has my dick straining in my pants.

"Sir, he's waking up," Peter whispers, and I look up in time to see Patrick stir, lifting his head that was previously lolling on his shoulder to peer blearily at us. At the sight of me, his eyes widen and every trace of sleep disappears. I give him a crooked smile.

"About time you woke up, Patty Boy." I coat my voice in sugary goodness but with an edge to it. His eyes are drawn to the floor where his daughter is, and he starts shaking like a leaf, tears falling out of his eyes in torrents.

"P-P-Please, Kristoff. Spare her. She's my niece. She's all I have left."

"Shut the fuck up." Peter moves to stand behind the sitting man, pressing the barrel of his gun to the back of Patrick's head. "Sir? Should I finish him off?"

"Don't be too forward now," I scowl, turning my attention to Patrick once again. The fear in his eyes is priceless. "You should have thought about the consequences before you went right ahead to steal from me," his sobs deepen and I cringe at the hoarseness of it. Just then the girl stirs, sitting up, her ears perking up at the sound of Patrick's sobs. She struggles to free herself but Peter had tied her up really good. At last, she gives up.

"U-Uncle?"

Her voice is soft, like a tiny bell and even with the blindfold on, she's a lot more beautiful than the goddamn passport.

"Your uncle is my captive," she gasps at the sound of my voice, jerking her head toward my direction. "Did you tell her what you did?" I ask Patrick, not taking my eyes off the damsel. He shakes his head.

"Please, I didn't...mean to steal from you. Believe me, I wasn't going to sell the ring. I just wanted..."

Peter hisses in irritation and smacks him on the side of his head, causing him to shut up.

"You had a whole week to return the ring, Patrick."

"I was sick," he protests, "I could barely lift a finger. I stayed in the hospital for days. You can ask my niece. She's the one who took care of me."

My eyes shift back to the girl, drawn to the way her lips move as she swallows hard. "Y-Yes, Sir. He's telling the truth."

"You were sick for a whole week and yet you couldn't even call me to say you had the ring, so I could come to pick it up, if truly you intended to give it back? And what do you have to say about the passports my men found in your wardrobe? The ones you prepared for you and your niece so you can escape from me?"

He sucks in a deep breath in shock, fresh tears pouring down his face like a stream. "Please, Kristoff," he wails like a baby, "this is all a big misunderstanding. But I admit that I made a mistake. Please don't hurt me."

"What you did is too awful to be overlooked, and mind you, I'm not Santa Clause. I warned you before I hired your miserable, pilfering arse, don't bloody touch what belongs to me. You wanted to steal my mother's most prized possession. MY MOST PRIZED POSSESSION, and you thought you could escape? You might be old, but unlike others, you're quite stupid. Kill him already, Peter."

"No, please - "

"Please don't kill him," the girl suddenly chips in. "My uncle made a mistake. Forgive him for my sake."

Her words make me laugh, even though I know that she means every word. Her voice is tender; like a soft ringing bell and I know she's trying her hardest to remain calm while the pounding pulse at her neck betrays her nervousness.

"Your sake?" I tilt my head to the side, chuckling. "What do you mean I should forgive him for your sake? Who the hell do you think you are to me?"

She's quiet as she thinks this over for a long moment. "I might not mean anything to you, but please," she straightens some more, "I beg of you. He's all I have left. My only family."

Look, I might be a hardened Mafia Don and I've heard similar words from my victims' relatives, but the way she says it with emotion strikes me. She's pleading for the old fool's life, instead of hers. She's making a brutal mistake putting his life first before hers, even though they're family.

"So what would you have me do, princess? Let him go? Just like that?"

She sucks in a breath, swallowing hard. Good. She's well aware that I'm not even remotely stupid enough to do that bullcrap.

"If you'll just..." her voice cracks and the tears are free falling faster than before, making her face redden and her nose snotty, "...Oh God."

Fuck. Seeing her in such a condition makes me loathe Patrick the more. I bet the stupid bastard never thought that the consequences of his actions would ever be extended to her. I hate the fact that they're related, and even though I've barely met her for an hour, I can tell that the both of them are entirely different people.

"Untie her."

Peter moves behind her, sliding out a pocket knife from the side of his belt, and sets to work, cutting up the ropes. When he's done, he takes her arm and helps her to her feet, dusting her off. My eyes sift over her appearance, drawn to the star-shaped birthmark on her left barefoot. She wraps her arms around her as though she's feeling cold. Stepping towards her, she stiffens, her face swiveling in my direction.

"Titania Williams," I say, reveling in the melody of the words. What a suiting name for a striking belle.

She visibly shudders, drawing her hands over her upper arm faster. I move closer, behind her, lifting the glimmering pool of golden curls that cascades down her shoulders. Tracing my fingers over her warm skin, I take a deep whiff, satisfied with the soft, peachy perfume that meets my nose. She shivers furiously as I slide an arm around her small, tapered waist.

"Are you afraid?"

She bites her bottom lips, exhaling a breath. My cock hardens as she sinks onto me, like a body meeting the waves. "Tell me what you're thinking about right now."

"I...I," she squeaks fearfully. I hum, pinching her ear lobe, tugging it between my fingers. "I just want my uncle to be free. And safe. Please."

I let her go, walking back to my initial position. "You're just a small girl who knows half of what this entails. This is business. Deep, dark, shitty business, and your uncle knew this before he went right ahead to steal from me. What sort of message would I be sending to future double-crossers? That I'm a man of mercy? Pfft."

She drops her head with a sigh, wiping her nose on her shoulder.

"I'm even more annoyed that he," I glare at Patrick, "dragged you into this. This isn't your place Titania. You should let him face his punishment. Alone."

"Are you even listening to yourself at all?" she probes, her jaw suddenly set sharply. "H's not facing any punishment alone. What kind of a man are you?"

"The sort of man that's gonna break your dear uncle's head into two halves and burn his body at the back of my warehouse."

"Oh, no," she sucks in a breath, alarmed. I watch her tears dampen the blindfold, her shoulders shaking quietly as she cries. "Please, don't. I'm sorry."

I shake my head, deciding that this is just a waste of time. "Peter?"

"Sir," Peter cocks his gun, pointing it at Patrick's forehead, a finger pulling the trigger back. Titania's eyes dim as she chortles in fright. I stumble back slightly when she throws herself forward, colliding with my chest. I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her back from falling.

"Please, Sir. Just listen to me."

"If it's to plead for his life, I think we're already past that."

"No...no...I can pay you if you keep him alive. He's all I have left."

"There's no amount of money you can give me that'll take away the insult your dear uncle bestowed on my image. His death will serve as a lesson to anyone out there who wants to double-cross me."

"I'll do anything!" she pleads, grabbing my hands. "I'll do anything. Just let him go. He made a mistake."

"That's not an excuse. It was a costly mistake."

"Please. I'll do anything you want. Anything at all."

I let the silence hang in the air between us as I think carefully, my eyes drawn to how firm and full her tits are. "Anything, princess?"

She lets go of my hands and straightens, raising her chin. I watch as she swallows nervously. "Y-Yes. Anything at all."

I raise my fingers to her face, smearing my thumbs with her tears. I trail them down her strong jaw, to her throat, over the small hollow between her collarbones, the skin of her chest, stopping between her tits. I circle the spot quietly while she holds her breath, perhaps in anticipation.

"Would you let me fuck you, Titania?"