One Cage, For Another

The powers that be had a real twisted sense of humor.

Anateya stared, her eyes blinking in disbelief.

This was not happening.

She was dreaming, and would wake up any second now.

Any second now.

To her dismay, there was no waking up from this very real nightmare.

He was dressed as impeccably as he did that night, this time in a navy-colored suit, his dark silk tie popping against his powder blue shirt. Not a strand of his hair was out of place, and his silver eyes were void of emotion. They were like an abyss of nothingness that threatened to destroy her.

Memories assaulted her mind, making her feel even more confused. This couldn’t be the same man that had ignited her with his touch.

“Have a seat.” His regard of her was that of boredom, as if he had a million other things to do and couldn’t be bothered with her. If that was the case, why did he take her captive anyway? Not that she wanted him to pay attention to her–the last thing she needed was to capture the attention of a Mafia Lord.

And yet… her heart clenched painfully as she walked toward the leather chair in front of his desk.

He didn’t remember her.

But, how could he not? Anateya didn’t think for one second that he was going around New York kissing random women, and what they shared was just too intense to write off as frivolous. The only explanation she would accept is that he was pretending.

However, the longer she was in his presence, the more she started to believe that he really had forgotten all about her. She sat, stewing in the silence as he ignored her, his focus set on the document on the desk in front of him.

Anger surged in her veins, clashing with desire as she watched his eyes scan from left to right, his fingers gripping his pen, making elegant strokes of signature. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she waited for him to acknowledge her.

“What is your name?” He asked, not looking up.

“Anateya Berretta.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“I’m sure you’d like to enlighten me.”

His hand paused mid-stroke, his jaw clenching before continuing to write. “Your father let my enemies into my casino, and they blew it up.”

Oh no. She’d heard of a famous casino that went up in flames two weeks before. That was his?! “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

“Owing someone like me a billion dollars isn’t just a misunderstanding. I’ve killed for less.”

His abrupt confession made her stomach drop. That was a lot of money. He really could have killed her papi and she wouldn’t even have a body to bury. The next thing he said had her blood running cold.

“If I had known you were of age and not a child, I would’ve opted to sell you to my more degenerate stakeholders, compliments for the investment they lost.”

She gaped at him, “You gave your word to my father that I wouldn’t be harmed.”

“Did I?” He still didn’t look at her, his dismissive tone making her lean over and scatter the papers, making him lose the one he was working on. Some of them drifted to the floor.

He sat back, lacing his fingers and looking at the mess on the floor. He tsked, “Petulant. Pick them up. Now.”

“No.” She clenched her fists. How dare he threaten to sell her to perverts. She was never the most rational when she was angry. Did all sorts of reckless things when she was caught up in her rage. “Get them yourself.”

She lifted her chin in defiance as he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. The tick in his jaw was the only indication that he was annoyed. Good.

“If you insist on acting like a child, then I will treat you like one, and punish you.”

Her heart thundered in her chest as she calculated the distance from the desk to the door. She sprang into action but wasn’t fast enough as he leaped from his chair, reaching her in a few strides.

“Let go of me!” She struggled as he dragged her by the back of her dress, twisting and shoving her until her face was flat against the glossy mahogany. “Don’t touch me!”

He ignored her, peeling up the hem of her dress. The cool air made goosebumps rise on her exposed ass. She squirmed but his hold was unyielding.

“I only ask once and I expect my orders to be carried out with urgency.” His voice sounded like he was giving a history lesson. “I can see that you’re going to be a handful for my men. So I’ll teach you, starting from today–not to defy me.”

Anateya mouth gaped open, shock stealing her voice as his large hand descended on her ass. She didn’t have time to breathe before another sharp slap was delivered, making her cheeks sting. She struggled harder, trying to break free as another strike found it’s mark.

“Stop it!” Her throat burned but she refused to cry in front of him. Not when he humiliated her like this.

“Only I give orders.” He said coldly, giving her another hard slap. “You have no power here.”

He spanked her until her ass throbbed from the onslaught, her tender skin burning in protest. Her eyes watered but she refused to give him the satisfaction of her tears. After a while, she stopped struggling, barely flinching at his strikes. She was somewhat grateful that was all he did to her. Her mind supplemented several other things he could’ve done.

“Are you ready to obey?”

“Yes.” Her voice was flat. Her answer seemed to appease him, because the next moment he released her and returned to his seat, lacing his fingers on top of the desk and waiting expectantly as if nothing had happened. She got up and whirled to face him, her rage flaring up again.

Her eyes darted to the letter opener and she moved before she could stop herself. He had amazing reflexes though, and caught the sharp end in his palm before it could do further damage. She twisted it for good measure, relishing as his blood dripped down onto the white sheets of paper.

He grunted, walked around, and grabbed the letter opener from her, tossing it to the side. His good hand wrapped around her neck, pressing her to the desk as he put his injured palm to his lips to staunch the blood. “Fuck. Dammit, Petarda.”

She froze, her eyes wide at the sound of the familiar nickname. He grimaced, realizing his mistake.

Huh.

So he did remember her.

“You have one hell of a temper.” She could barely hear him over the blood that roared in her ears.

He remembered her.

“I don’t know what’s worse, you trying to humiliate me, or you pretending like you didn’t know who I was.”

His hand tightened around her neck but not enough to cut off her air supply. He smirked, licking at the blood in the corner of his lips. “Pretend? I don’t know you,” He leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “But nothing could make me forget that mouth of yours, Petarda.”

Anateya shivered, feeling a wave of De Ja Vu as his breath tickled the hairs on her neck. “You spanked me.”

“And you were being rude. You needed to be punished.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” She said softly, “You could just let me go.”

“Never.” His growl did delicious things to the apex between her thighs. “Your father owes me a shit ton of money, and if someone has to pay, why not you? Those pretty little eyes won’t work on me, so don’t bother. This is your prison now, and if your father doesn’t honor his end of the deal, I won’t hesitate to take my revenge on you.”

His coldness snuffed out the desire in her veins. She stumbled as he shoved her in the direction of the door. “Leave me. I have business to tend to."

The burning sensation returned to her throat but she used every ounce of her will to prevent the tears from springing up. Anateya straightened her clothes and walked to the door, not looking behind her as she tugged it open.

Never meet your heroes? Ha. Never ever meet the object of all your desires.

It’s called fantasy for a reason.

⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜

Anateya slammed the door behind her, tugging the hem of her dress down as she walked away. She advanced two feet before stumbling into a slim frame.

”Watch where you’re going, sweetheart.” A firm but gentle voice said, as two dainty hands steadied her shoulders. Anateya glanced up, meeting a sea of blue. Her jaw dropped as her brain short-circuited at the sight of–

”Chyella Bray?!” Anateya blurted. No. Freaking. Way.

”In the slightly bruised flesh.” She chuckled, rubbing her forearm “And who might you be?”

”I’m…I’m…” She couldn’t get the words out. Chyella was the number one supermodel in Europe, and Anateya’s idol since her delinquent teen years. The six-foot goddess was as glorious in person as she was on the front of magazine covers, billboards, and nationwide talk shows. She was everything that Anateya wanted to be: a sexy fierce intellectual. “W-what are you even doing here?” Why was Chyella in the home of a crime lord? Oh. That’s right. She was probably dating the asshole. Of course. Did she even know the truth about his lecherous activities?

’You didn’t seem to mind those activities when he pinned you on that balcony, did you?’ A mocking voice rang out in her head. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself together. “I’m Anateya. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

”Charmed to meet you.” Chyella nodded, smoothing a hand over her shiny black hair. Giving Anateya a once over, she frowned. “Are you one of Romero’s girls? I swear- I don’t know when my brother will learn not to crap where he eats.”

“Brother?!” Anateya blurted, “Please don’t tell me you’re related to that testa di cazzo.”

”Unfortunately. Look darling, I know he’s probably got you wrapped around his little finger–”

”He does NOT–”

“But you have to stand up for yourself. You’re worth more than a cheap lay in his office.”

Anateya wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Chyella thought she just fucked her brother. Judging from her appearance, Anateya supposed it wasn’t hard to come to that conclusion. She was dressed provocatively, her hair was tousled and her cheeks were flushed red from his… punishment.

Anateya held her hands up, “I can assure you, I’m not sleeping with your brother. I’m a hostage.”

“Oh, I see.” Chyella nodded, chewing her blood-red lip, “You’re Berretta’s kid, eh?”

With that, Anateya knew that her Idol was completely aware of Romero’s dark dealings. “Yes. My papi is off paying a debt. Until then I’m stuck here.”

“Hmmn…I see. Louisa?” Chyella called out. Not long after, a stout, middle-aged woman rounded the corner to her right.

Louisa beamed, “Chyella! You’re finally back.” They embraced for a few seconds before Louisa turned to Anateya, a disapproving look twisting her features. Great. So everyone thought she was giving it up to the silver-eyed devil. Just great.

”Now now, Louisa,” Chyella chided before the woman could say a word. “This is Anateya, Berretta’s daughter. She’ll be staying with us for a while so please get her settled in.”

Louisa stared for a moment longer, Anateya didn’t back down from her judgment-filled gaze. After a while, the older woman sucked her teeth and snapped at a guard to pick up her suitcase. “Please follow me, miss.” She started on the steps.

”See you around,” Chyella gave a small wave, a hint of sadness in her gaze. Anateya’s heart sank. From everything she’d heard about Romero, she might never get the chance to see her role model again.

If today taught her anything- it was that Romero would destroy her if her father didn’t repay the debt.

⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜

As soon as she was gone, Romero sank into his chair, his hand going to his crotch to grip his cock that had turned to brick in his pants.

“Fuck!” He cursed under his breath, his large frame bowing over the desk as he willed his erection to go down. No woman alive should be able to make him desire her to the point of madness.

If not for the attendant who witnessed him devouring her on the balcony of Club Eleven, he would have written off His Petarda (make no mistake–she was His) as a figment of his imagination.

He had scoured the surveillance tapes of the club but she was scrubbed from them all, and the top floors had no cameras so as to allow utmost discretion, for those who loved to dabble in debauchery.

It was as if she didn’t exist– and yet, his indulgence in murder, mayhem, and whiskey, could not erase the taste of her from his mouth, nor the memory of her warm body against his. Fucking his usual lovers could not erase her touch, so he withdrew himself from the activity entirely.

It had to be her, or none at all.

He couldn’t find her all those months and was reduced to a starving beast without the thing he craved.

How ironic that she turned out to be Berretta’s daughter, his little bird came right to him when he least expected it. Staring down at the thin gash in his palm, he smirked, remembering how her soft ass filled his hand as if he’d molded them himself. The punishment hardly fit the crime, but he went easy on her because she didn’t know the rules.

He would take immense pleasure in teaching her.

Before he could sink deeper into his machinations, his door burst open for the second time that day. Long legs clad in jeans and ankle boots strode elegantly towards him and he rolled his eyes.

”Must you always be so damn dramatic, Ella?”

”Hello big brother, would you like to talk about what’s gotten your panties in a bunch?”

“I’m not in the mood, sister.”

She came over to sit on the edge of his desk, a finger tapping her pale chin, “Could it be a particular redhead that I bumped into on my way in here?”

”Don’t you have somewhere to be– anywhere but here?”

”Ah, I’m on the money I see. Taking pleasure in robbing the cradle?”

“As much as you love desecrating graves.” Romero deadpanned.

Chyella pouted, “Now come on, that bitch was lucky I didn’t dump her daddy’s rotten corpse on her doorstep. Had some nerve, trying to sabotage my spot in the EU Catwalk.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. After a while, he held up his hand, revealing the angry gash. “I’m going to have to teach that one some manners.”

Her eyes widened, “She cut you? And you let her walk away? Wow. You’ve got it worse than I thought.” She crossed her arms, brows knitting together. “You better handle that. If the guys catch wind of this and you haven’t punished her, they might take things into their own hands.”

”I made a deal with her father that she would be unharmed while he repays his debts.”

”Mă tai, te tai de două ori,” Chyella said firmly. The creed sent cold chills down his spine. “She’s a guest that drew your blood under your own roof. That even looks like it’s gonna scar. You won’t be able to hide it from your men either. You must take payment.”

Romero huffed. “Sometimes I wonder which of us is more coldblooded.” His sister was right. Doing it himself would technically be an act of mercy. His men would carve her up and he wouldn't be able to stop them as it would be their right to seek retribution. Funny how one little cut could complicate things. Damn his hot-headed petarda.

“Alright, I’ll get it done tonight.”