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39 - Breakfast With an Audience
Last Updated:
2024-12-19 23:09:54
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The Mafia King's Trophy 40 - Weakness
MatteoThe meeting drags on, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. My father sits at the head of the table, commanding the room with a calm authority that’s always been both intimidating and inspiring. Lukas and Markus bicker over logistics, their usual bullshit filling the space, but I’m barely paying attention. My mind keeps drifting to Amara—to the way she felt in my lap this morning, the warmth of her body against mine, the way she looked at me like I was something more than a monster.“Matteo, stay behind,” my father says as the others start filing out at the end of the meeting.My head snaps up, and I nod, staying rooted in my chair as Lukas and Markus exchange a glance before leaving. The door closes behind them, and the room is eerily quiet. My father leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studies me with those sharp, calculating eyes. The kind of look that’s always made me feel like a kid caught doing something I shouldn’t.“What’s going on between
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MatteoI hesitate outside her door, my chest tight with a fear I’ll never admit out loud. The guards reported nothing. No movement, no alarms, no sign she’d tried to leave. But still, I’m bracing myself for an empty room.I left the door unlocked on purpose. A test—or maybe a choice, I’m not sure anymore. I told myself it was to see what she’d do, to prove something about her loyalty or lack of it. But now, standing here, I feel like a fucking idiot.If she’s gone…I can’t even finish the thought.Swallowing hard, I push the door open, expecting the worst.But she’s there.My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight before me. She’s not in bed. She’s not cowering, plotting, or even sulking like I half expected.She’s dancing.Her movements are fluid, precise, like she’s caught in her own world, a world I have no right to step into. She doesn’t see me, too engrossed in the rhythm of her own body. Her arms move gracefully, her feet gliding across the floor with a lightness tha
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MatteoAmara’s head rests against my chest, and I can feel the warmth of her breath through the fabric of my shirt. Her hands are still gripping me, as if letting go would break whatever fragile thread is holding her together.And for once, I don’t feel the need to speak.Her vulnerability is raw, unfiltered, and it seeps into me in a way that nothing else ever has. It’s not weakness—not with her. It’s strength disguised as surrender, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with it.My hand trails down her back, settling at the curve of her waist. I can feel the tension slowly bleeding out of her, her breaths evening out, though there’s still a hesitance in the way she leans into me. Like she’s testing how much of herself she can give before I take too much.“I hate how you do this to me,” she whispers, her voice muffled against my chest.I smirk, even though she can’t see it. “What, make you melt like this?”She pulls back just enough to glare up at me, though there’s no real bite to it
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AmaraI sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the door, hating myself for how badly I want to open it.His words echo in my mind, over and over, like a song I can’t shake: Come to my bed tonight.It wasn’t an order, and that’s what makes it worse. Matteo never gives choices, and yet, tonight, he handed me one. And what’s worse? The second the words left his mouth, my first instinct was to say yes.I hate myself for it. For the way my chest tightened when he said it. For the way my breath caught when he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the chaos he created.I’ve spent the last hour pacing my room, the walls feeling smaller and smaller with every step I take. My thoughts are louder than they should be, a war raging in my head between what I want and what I should do.What I should do is lock my door, bury myself under the covers, and pretend none of this happened.But what I want to do…I let out a frustrated sigh, running my hands through my hair. Dancing helped clear my h
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MatteoI watch her beneath me, her eyes wide but steady, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as her fingers dig into my shoulders. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away, even when I can feel how hard my hands are gripping her hips. She’s never been afraid of me, not really, and that’s what drives me fucking insane.“You have no idea,” I murmur again, the words slipping out as I brush my lips over hers, softer this time, almost reverent. “How much I want you. It’s not just want—it’s need. Fucking need.”Her hands tighten against my shoulders, and I pull back enough to look at her, my gaze searching hers. “You came to me,” I say, my voice rough. “You didn’t have to, but you did.”She blinks up at me, her breath catching as she whispers, “You gave me a choice.”“And you chose me,” I growl, the truth of it settling deep in my chest, both exhilarating and terrifying. “You chose me, princess. Do you have any idea what that means?”She shakes her head slightly, her lips parting
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MatteoHer brows knit together, and for a moment, she looks like she might fight me again. But then she nods, her voice barely a whisper. “I do.”Something in me twists at that. It’s not the answer I was expecting, and it hits me harder than I’d like to admit. But I don’t let it show. Instead, I lean down, brushing my lips against hers in a kiss that’s softer this time, almost tender.“Good girl,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them.She shivers at my praise, her hands sliding up my arms, her nails scraping lightly against my skin as she pulls me closer.“You’re so fucking perfect,” I growl, my lips trailing down her neck, to her collarbone, to the swell of her breast. “Do you even realize that?”She lets out a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. “I’m not—”“Shut up,” I interrupt, my teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Amara. You should know that by now.”Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling slightl
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AmaraI wake slowly, my body heavy and warm, cocooned in a tangle of sheets and the steady, grounding heat of Matteo pressed against me. His arm is draped over my waist, holding me against his chest like he’s afraid I’ll slip away in the night.The memories from the night before rush back in a wave, and my cheeks heat as I bury my face into the pillow. I gave myself to him. My first. Matteo Dragonetti. And he was…Gentle.The thought surprises me. Matteo, who has only ever been cruel, cold, and possessive, was careful with me. His touch, his words, everything was different last night.But even as my body feels sated, my heart twists with anxiety.What happens now?I gave him the one thing I had left, the last piece of myself I’d kept untouched, and now… now I feel empty, like I’ve lost something I’ll never get back.Tears prick my eyes before I can stop them, and I try to stay quiet, biting my lip to stifle the sob building in my chest. But it’s useless. A sniffle escapes, soft but en
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MatteoI don’t waste time after breakfast. The tension I’ve been carrying since last night hasn’t eased, and there’s only one person I need to talk to about this before I lose my nerve.My father is in his office, leaning over a stack of papers with his glasses perched on his nose. He doesn’t look up when I step inside, but I know he’s aware of me. Dante Dragonetti doesn’t miss anything.“Matteo,” he says without looking up, his tone calm and measured. I close the door behind me, taking a deep breath to steady myself before walking to the chair across from his desk. “I’ve made a decision,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend.That gets his attention. He looks up, his sharp green eyes locking onto mine. He leans back in his chair, setting the papers aside, and folds his hands in front of him. “About what?”“Amara,” I say, and even the name feels heavy in my mouth.His expression doesn’t change, but I can see the flicker of interest in his eyes. “Go on.”I rest my elbows on my knees,
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The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 19
MarkusI close Nadya’s door behind me, my chest still rising and falling from the high of her falling apart under my mouth. Her taste lingers on my tongue, sweet and intoxicating, and I drag a hand through my hair. She’s my new favorite addiction. Every time I see her unravel beneath me, it’s like a shot of adrenaline straight to my veins. I’ve tasted power, blood, and control my entire life, but nothing compares to the way she shatters for me.It’s pathetic how much I already crave more of her. The way she clutches onto me, how her lips part with those little gasps—it’s like she was made to be ruined by me.I can’t believe I was trying to avoid this. Her. It’s fucking laughable.Shaking my head, I adjust my sweats and head down the hall, the cool air doing little to calm the fire still burning under my skin. Just as I turn toward the stairs, one of Matteo’s men approaches.“Boss wants you in his office. Lukas is already there.”Great. If Matteo’s calling us both in, it’s either a sh
The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 18
NadyaThe first thing I notice when I wake up is the scent. Markus’ cologne is all over the pillows, warm and woodsy with a hint of something darker, something unmistakably him. My fingers tighten on the fabric as reality sinks in.Last night happened.I sit up slowly, the covers pooling around my waist as I press a hand to my chest. My heart is racing—not out of fear, but something else entirely. I don’t want to name it, don’t even want to think about it too hard. If I do, I’ll lose myself in the mess Markus left behind.But still, my mind replays every moment, every touch, every word. The way his lips moved against mine, the way his hands gripped me like he couldn’t bear to let go, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.I shouldn’t feel this way. Not about him. Markus is dangerous, unpredictable, and yet… last night, he was none of those things. He was gentle, almost tender, in a way I didn’t think he was capable of.My cheeks heat as I remembe
The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 17
MarkusI lift her off the ground, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bed. Her tank top rides up, exposing more of her soft, pale skin, and I have to fight the urge to rip it off her.“Markus,” she murmurs, her voice soft and hesitant.I pause, my hands gripping her thighs as I look down at her. “What is it, Nadya?”She smiles faintly, her fingers brushing against my cheek. “You’re not as scary as you think you are,” she says, her voice teasing but warm.I chuckle, the sound rough. “Don’t tell anyone,” I say, my smirk widening. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”She laughs softly, and the sound is like music, light and carefree in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s beautiful, and it’s all for me.I lower her onto the bed, her hair fanning out around her like a halo. She looks up at me, her eyes wide, the faintest hint of uncertainty shadowing her expression. I brush my knuckles over her cheek, reminding her she’s safe.“You’re beautiful, you know that?” I murmur.
The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 16
MarkusThe door clicks shut behind me as I stride into my room, the dampness from my shower still clinging to my skin. The towel I used to dry my hair sits discarded on the floor, and I’m pacing, my mind a whirlwind of anger and frustration.She was jealous.That thought has been gnawing at me ever since I left her room. Nadya, my fierce, stubborn Topolina, was jealous. Over me. Even after I spelled out in graphic detail why I’m the last person she should want, she still looked at me like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to slap me or kiss me.I rake a hand through my hair, my bare chest heaving as I try to calm the storm inside me. She wants me. The knowledge is like a double-edged blade, cutting through my defenses while carving deep into my control.What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?I glance at my reflection in the mirror, the hard lines of my face twisted in frustration. My jaw clenches as I remember the way she looked at me earlier—her blue eyes blazing, her cheeks fl
The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 15
NadyaI storm into the gym, my hands shaking as I wrap the tape around my knuckles. Anger burns in my chest, but I don’t even know why I’m this furious. Markus isn’t mine. He owes me nothing. But that doesn’t stop the bile rising in my throat when I think about the way he smelled last night—like perfume, sweat, and sex.The scratch marks on his neck didn’t help either.I pull the tape tighter, ignoring the sting as it bites into my skin. My movements are jerky, uncoordinated, and the anger bubbling beneath the surface isn’t helping. He had the nerve to come into my room, to sit beside me and offer comfort, while reeking of another woman.Does he even care about how that makes me feel? No, of course not. Why would he? I’m nothing to him. Just some damaged little thing he’s stuck babysitting because he felt guilty.I grab a pair of boxing gloves and slip them on, trying to channel my rage into something productive. When Markus walks into the gym a moment later, his expression is neutral
The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 14
MarkusI slam the door to Lukas’ office harder than necessary, the wood rattling in its frame. He doesn’t even flinch, his boots propped up on the desk, a whiskey glass dangling from his fingers. His eyes flick to me, then back to whatever bullshit report he’s pretending to read.I, on the other hand, am ready to crawl out of my fucking skin.“Do you ever do anything useful, or is this just your default setting now?” I ask, stepping inside.“What crawled up your ass?” he asks lazily, not bothering to look up again.“You know damn well what,” I snap, crossing the room to stand in front of his desk. “I need advice.”Lukas arches a brow, finally deigning to meet my gaze. “Advice? From me?” He snorts, setting his whiskey down. “Must be a bad day if you’re coming to me for help, brother.”I glare at him, but it only makes his smirk grow. “It’s Nadya,” I grit out, my fists clenching at my sides.“Of course, it is.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’d she do
The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 13
MarkusThe gym echoes with the sound of Nadya’s labored breaths and the soft squeak of her sneakers against the mat. She’s been pushing herself harder each session, her determination a force to be reckoned with. Even though her body is still catching up to the hell it’s been through, her spirit is unrelenting.“Come on, Topolina,” I taunt, circling her. “Is that all you’ve got?”She glares at me, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m saving my strength for the moment I crush you,” she snaps, her thick Russian accent making the threat sound a little more serious than it should.I smirk, rolling my shoulders. “You couldn’t crush me if I handed you a sledgehammer and stood still.”Her lips curve into that defiant little scowl that always makes something inside me twist. I don’t let myself dwell on it. She squares up again, her stance solid but still rough around the edges. She’s come a long way, though. A month ago, she could barely keep her balance. Now? Now
The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 12
NadyaThe gym smells faintly of leather and sweat, the air heavy with the lingering tension from our earlier sparring session. Markus stands a few feet away, adjusting the gloves on his hands as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. But there’s nothing natural about him—not his sharp green eyes, not his towering frame, and definitely not the dangerous air he carries around like a second skin.I can’t stop watching him.He moves with a quiet confidence, each motion calculated and precise, like a predator sizing up its prey. Even now, leaning against the punching bag with a towel slung over his shoulder, he looks like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice.It’s unsettling how easily I can pick out the details: the way his hair falls slightly into his eyes when he tilts his head, the sharp angles of his jaw that seem to be carved from stone, the tattoos curling up his forearms.Markus isn’t just a man. He’s a weapon. A deadly, beautiful weapon.And I hate that I notice.I sip
The Mafia King's Trophy The Enforcer’s Darling 11
MarkusNadya moves across the mat with precision, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun that’s starting to come undone. Strands fall loose, framing her delicate face, and I catch myself staring for too long. Again. I grit my teeth and glance away, pretending to adjust the gloves I’m wearing, but my eyes betray me, snapping back to her almost immediately. She’s doing the warm-ups I taught her, her small frame moving with surprising grace despite the tension I know she’s carrying. She’s wearing a simple tank top and leggings, but there’s no hiding the lithe, graceful figure beneath, a body that could’ve belonged to a ballerina. But I know better. Whatever dreams she might have had died the moment someone decided she was better suited as a commodity.I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, watching her. It’s not the first time I’ve caught myself staring, and it won’t be the last. There’s something about her that draws my eye—something fragile but not breakable, delicate but not we
