Sweet Torture

Chapter-2

There was no matching the mansion in Sicily for grandeur. Every surface made from shining white marble, trimmed in brushed gold, the floor a glossy mosaic of sapphire,jade and obsidian. It was a testament of wealth and craftsmanship, the best the country had to offer, she was certain.

A good thing, she thought. Because if she was going to tempt the Beast of Sicily's wrath, she might as well do it while surrounded with luxury.

"What the hell is going on?" Kayan growled when he walked into the foyer of the mansion to discover a procession of suitcases being brought in.

There were suitcases half as tall as him, duffle bags and small leather bags.

The butler stopped in his tracks and looked in Kayan's direction, though not at him. They never did. "We're bringing in Miss. Atherton's belongings, as directed, Capo Kayan."

"Directed by who?" he asked, ignoring the strange sort of cold feeling that accompanied a breach of his personal space. A loss of control.

The man edged away from Kayan, his nerves palpable. "By Miss. Atherton."

Kayan didn't let the man finish his sentence before he turned and stormed out of the foyer and went towards the guest rooms. Of course, for all he knew she had gone and set herself in his room.

In his bed.

His body tightened at the thought. A near foreign sensation one that was only half-remembered at this point in time. No she wouldn't do that. Not even she was so bold. Or so perverse. As a woman would have to be to pursue a night in his bed.

He was one of the maids slipping out of one of the rooms, closig the door behind her before she rushed in the opposite direction, acting as thoigh she hadn't seen him. She probably had. But even the staff tried to avoid him as much as possible.

He approached one of the doors which he saw was slightly open and pushed it open fully. And there she was, standing in the center of the of the room, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders now. Her simple blue dress, belted at the waist, was demure enough, and yet, the way it skimmed her lush curves easily set fire to a man's imagination.

Especially when that man's imagination had been left to dry up for so many years.

"What exactly are you doing here, bella?" he asked, the word beauty escaping his lips before he had a chance to think better of it. Because, as simple as that, she was beauty. She embodied it. It was a shame that the heat withered beauty, the intensity too much for anything so delicate and soft.

She turned to look at him, violet eyes icy. Perhaps she was not soft. Though she looked as though she would be to the touch. Her skin pale like cream, her curves lush.

His body stirred. His gut tightened. It had been a long time since a woman had affected his body like this. Since he had been affected in almost any way. Any way beyond the endless loop of torment that seemed to play on repeat inside of him.

"I'm staying," she said, her neck craned, her expression haughty.

"I told you to get out."

"Of your office."

"Of the country. And you knew what I meant."

She folded her arms. "I'm afraid that's not acceptable."

He moved to her and saw her shrink slightly, her shoulders tucking in just a fraction. She wasn't immune to him, to his face, the coldness and ruthlessness that he bore on his face all the time, no matter how confident and unaffected she tried to pretend to be.

Her scent caught a hold of him, light and flowery. Feminine.

As he'd been reminded just a moment before, even the maids stayed far away from him. How long had it been since he'd been so close to a woman? It had been before everything, he was certain of that.

"What isn't acceptable is you parking your pretty ass where it's not welcome," he growled, using crude words to intimidate, since his looks alone hadn't done the job. Most people shrank away when they saw him, fear evident on his faces. Not Primrose.

She arched one pale eyebrow, her expression placid. "Compliments will not move me, I'm afraid."

Any feaf and uncertainty she'd shown had been momentary, and now she met him face on, her gaze unflinching, her posture staright. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened either. His staff avoided interacting with him as much as possible. And the people of his gang....they didn't seem interested in having him between them. So long as he kept things moving.

His character bolstered his reputation, or perhaps it was the other way around. Either way, rumours of their capo, barbarian, possibly mad, kept the majority of them from wanting him to involve himself with him outside work. Those who did, attached some sort of idea of him being a savior, they were the fools. And they were too afraid to approach him, too. Either one suited his purposes. It kept people out, and allowed him to work from within his mansion and office.

It was not his gang he set out to intimidate, but anyone who try to attack them again. So far, it had worked.

But Primrose the Great didn't seem to care. She was all prickles, ice and confidence. Standing in his home as though it was her domain.

It was time to make the most of his beastly reputation.

"You want marriage, Primrose?"he asked, his voice low growl. "You want to be my woman?" He drew closer to her, reached a hand out and ran his finger along one petal-soft cheek. She was like silk. He wanted to touch more of her. All of her. He squashed the impulse. He had denied, no, he had not felt any of those desires for five long years. It wouldn't hurt him to ignore them a while longer. "You want to warm my bed and have my children?"

Her face flushed scarlet. "No."

"I thought not."

"But I don't need to. Not for my purposes."

"You don't need heirs?"

She faced him with a hard stare. "Not from you. And if everything goes according to plan I won't need them at all."

He gritted his teeth, trying not to imagine what creating heirs with her would entail. As he tried to keep his blood ice, he keep the fire at bay. He had to keep hold of his control or......he didn't want to know what might happen. "Why is that?"

"Because if my father dies before Nathaniel reaches legal age, I need you to be named Acting Leader, not my cousin. I'm a woman, and I can't do it. I can't protect my brother. If Arthur ends up on the power.....we're facing war, a hostile seizing of the power. If it comes to war it's bound to affect your gang, at least as far as trade is considered.

"So what exactly are you proposing?"

"Whatever you want. I need this marriage, for my people. I will be your wife in bed if you want, or your wife in name only. But the choice is up to you. If you refuse, the blood of my people is on both of our hands."

Blood of innocent. Enough of it had already been spilled in the world. Enough of it seemed to stain him. It never seemed to come clean. No more. There could be no more.

"Explain,"he said.

She took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling with the action. "If my father dies before Nathaniel comes of age, an acting leader must be put over him, handling everything in his place until he is able to take over. If I am married, the position goes to my husband, if not, it goes to the nearest male relative. If my closest male relative gets even the tiniest of power, I'm sure that he'll do everything in his power to keep it. With him in charge at best we're looking at a total economical collapse, at worst, war as he tries to make his position permanent. I will not stand by and watch that happen. Not while I have the power to change."

Primrose's words carried fire, a passion that nothing in him could match. She didn't just care for the people of her gang, she took the mantle of leadership completely and wholly on herself. As Yazdan had done. She would have been well-suited to his brother. As always, the thoughts of Yazdan, of his family, brought a heavy, oppressive weight to his chest. Reminded him that he wasn't the right man to stand here.

He wasn't made for massive parties, making strategies, doing trade, taking decisions and keeping the delicate balance between the neighbouring gangs. He was about action. Physical action. A dream now, as even that was limited, not just by his position, but by being the only one alive in his family.

"Find someone else, Primrose. I'm sure there are all manner of powerful men who would fight to the death over the honour. I , however, am not one of them."

"That isn't the point. The agreement is done, everything lined out, from the amount of power you will possess over Slytherine gang to which of our children would inherit what, not that will be a concern for us."

There was a moment, so brief he might have imagined it, that he saw vulnerability in her violet eyes. And that brief moment nearly hit him. Nearly made him lose his grip on the internal shield he held so tight.

He tightened his jaw. "Your situation is regrettable ........for you." He turned to go and he heard Primrose's high heels clicking, quick and sharp, against the hard floor.

"For both of us," she said. "If Arthur takes control he'll change everything. We have a good thing going between our two gangs. We're a huge buyer of your weapons and you depend on us for drug trafficking. I don't see him keeping up with trade agreements. He's a blind, selfish fool. He'll be the downfall of Slytherines and he'll do his best to shake Scorpions with his incompetence as well."

He stopped and turned, his pulse pounding hard. One thing he had done as a leader was his absolute best to create a secure and financially stable gang for his people. To prevent the possibility of more attacks. Of more death. Primrose painted a bleak picture, one that made flashes of light go off in his mind.

Explosions and chaos. Confusion. Pain. Darkness. Innocent people being killed mercilessly.

He tightened his hand into a fist and squeezed. Hard. Working at bringing the walls back up.

He didn't want this to be his problem. He wanted to go on as he had, maintaining the balance, living alone. And yet he wasn't sure it could be ignored. A hot surge of adrenaline pumped through him, the automatic fighter's instincts filling him, fueling him.

He could picture what a war between mafia gangs would be like. He'd experienced a taste of that hell.

"In name only and then what?" he asked.

"You can divorce me as soon as Nathaniel turns eighteen."

"And what of your cousin then?"

"He's power mad, but he doesn't possess the wealth or connections to cause any trouble on his own. However, if he can get into power and start war.....he can declare a state of emergency and keep himself as the leader. That I can't have." She took a step toward him, extended her arm, her fingers hovering just above his forearm. She moved slightly, grazing him with her fingertips. "I will do whatever you ask of me."

He was hard as rock in an instant. His body's reaction nearly made him laugh. If she planned to use seduction to make her case then he would win, no question. There was nothing left whole in him. All he had left was the will to go on, to lead his gang, to do as his father would have wanted. As his brother would have done. Anything more was too much. Impossible.

Primrose braced herself. For him to yell. For him to do......something befitting a man with his reputation.