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9 - Dimming Fire
Last Updated:
2024-11-27 00:03:57
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The Mafia King's Trophy 10 - Break For Me
MatteoThe morning sun barely filters through the heavy curtains as I push open her bedroom door. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, still in those silk pajamas that cling just enough to make me linger a second too long before stepping inside. Her hair’s a mess, her eyes rimmed with defiance and exhaustion.She looks like hell. And yet somehow, she still manages to look like she belongs in it.“Get up,” I bark, shutting the door behind me. “We’re making a proof-of-life video. You’re going to tell your father you’re alive, and you’re going to do it without fucking it up. Got it?”Her glare cuts through the room, but she doesn’t move. “Why should I make anything easier for you?”“Because I said so,” I reply, crossing my arms. “Now, get up. I don’t have all day.”She stands slowly, her movements deliberate, her chin tilted in defiance as she takes a step closer. “And what if I don’t?”I smirk, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Then I’ll give your father a reason to worry. Maybe I’ll
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AmaraThe water scalds my skin, but I don’t move. I lay there on the cold tiles of the shower floor, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around myself as if I can hold myself together. The steady spray of water drowns out the sound of my muffled sobs, but it doesn’t stop the memories from clawing their way back in, vivid and relentless.What he did to me…My cheeks burn as I think of Matteo, of his hands on my body, of how I broke under him in the worst possible way. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat as I remember the way he smirked, the satisfaction in his eyes as he reduced me to nothing but a trembling mess.I should hate him. I do hate him.But the worst part? The part I can’t stop replaying, can’t stop hating myself for?It didn’t feel wrong.A shudder runs through me, my tears mixing with the water as I press my forehead against the cool tiles. I don’t know what’s worse—that he did it, or that my body betrayed me so completely. I shouldn’t have pushed him so far. I shouldn’t h
Last Updated : 2024-11-29The Mafia King's Trophy 12 - A Walk With The Enemy
AmaraThe garden stretches wide and pristine, every hedge and flower bed manicured to perfection. The sun is warm on my face, but it doesn’t chase away the chill lingering in my chest. Matteo walks a few steps ahead of me, silent, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. I follow begrudgingly, my bare feet brushing against the gravel as I trail him like a shadow.The air is heavy between us, filled with all the things neither of us is saying. My thoughts churn like a storm, each one darker than the last, but I keep my mouth shut. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking the silence first.We stop near the fountain, its soft trickle the only sound in the quiet garden. Matteo glances at me over his shoulder, his expression stoic as usual, and I look away, refusing to meet his gaze.The minutes stretch on, the tension thickening until it feels like I can’t breathe. Finally, I snap.“Why are we doing this?” I ask, my voice sharp and demanding.He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes
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MatteoThe door slams behind me as I leave Amara’s room, locking her in with a sharp twist of the key. My jaw is tight, and my pulse thrums with irritation. She’s a problem, but right now, she’s not the biggest one.My mother’s words still echo in my head as I make my way to the study. One of ours—gone. Entirely wiped out. I knew the Cerullis were desperate, but this? This was a declaration of war, plain and simple.The door to my father’s study is slightly ajar when I reach it, and I hear his heavy footsteps pacing inside. He rarely paces, which means one thing—this is bad. Very fucking bad.“What do we know?” I ask, my voice cutting through the silence.My father turns sharply, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. “The DeLucas,” he says, his voice low and simmering with rage. “Every last one of them. Men, women, even the fucking kids. Gone.”My stomach tightens, and I clench my fists at my sides. The DeLucas weren’t just allies—they were family. And now, they’re a goddamn massacre.
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AmaraThe room is dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the window, casting long shadows against the walls. I wake with a start, a strange weight pressing on my chest, my senses prickling with unease.I sit up, blinking the sleep from my eyes, and freeze.Matteo is standing by the window, his broad frame silhouetted against the pale light. His dark hair is disheveled, his shoulders tense—and his white shirt is covered in blood.My breath catches in my throat, and I grip the edge of the blanket like it might anchor me to reality. “Matteo?” I whisper, my voice trembling.He turns slowly, his green eyes locking onto mine, sharp and unrelenting.“What… what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze heavy, unreadable. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, before he finally speaks.“Go back to sleep, Amara,” he says, his tone flat, almost hollow.I don’t move. “Why are you covered in blood?”He exhal
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MatteoThe door clicks shut behind me, the sound ringing louder in my ears than it should. My chest feels tight, my hands twitching at my sides, and I can still feel the ghost of her touch—the cool, damp cloth brushing over my skin, the softness in her movements.What the fuck just happened?I drag a hand through my hair, pacing the length of the hall. Blood still stains the creases of my shirt, the metallic tang clinging to me like a second skin, but my face and hands are clean. Because of her.She didn’t have to do that. Hell, she shouldn’t have done it. But she did, and I didn’t fucking stop her.It wasn’t the defiance I’m used to from her, the fire I’ve been trying to snuff out. It wasn’t even fear, though I’ve seen plenty of that from her too. No, it was something else. Something softer, gentler, something that doesn’t belong in a place like this or with a man like me.And that’s what fucking guts me.I slam my fist against the wall, the sharp sting grounding me, pulling me out
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AmaraThe flowers sit in a crystal vase on the small table by the window, their colors vibrant against the gray light filtering in from outside. Blues, yellows, whites—soft, delicate things that feel out of place in this room, in this house, in my life.I sit cross-legged on the bed, staring at them, my arms resting on my knees. My fingers tap absently against my leg as my thoughts churn.Why did he do that?Why did Matteo make me pick them, of all things?It wasn’t a kindness—I know better than to think he’s capable of something like that. He doesn’t do things without a reason. Every move he makes is calculated, deliberate. So what was the point?I behaved, didn’t I?I gave him exactly what he wanted. I didn’t fight him, didn’t push back, didn’t light the match I know he’s expecting me to strike. I was quiet, obedient, everything he’s been trying to beat into me since he dragged me into this nightmare.And still… he seemed pissed.My gaze shifts to the flowers again, their delicate p
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Latest chapter
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
