Kidnapped by The Mafia Prince

Chapter 3: Dare

Ivy~

No one had ever spoken to Nathaniel like that. Not with such calm, controlled menace. My gaze darted to Caleb, his expression unreadable but brimming with a dangerous authority that made the air feel heavier.

Nathaniel’s composure cracked for a fraction of a second before he forced a tight smile.

“De Luca,” he said, his words sharp. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Caleb’s smirk was slow, deliberate, and chilling.

“Everything in this room concerns me. Don’t forget where you are, Graves.”

Nathaniel’s smile was tight, his tone dripping with mock civility as he sneered,

“Just returning a misdelivered package.”

The words sank into my chest like stones, heavy with insinuation. Before I could process the insult fully, Caleb’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“There was no mistake.”

My breath hitched as his hand brushed over the necklace, his touch sending a jolt through me. He stepped closer, his presence a shield between me and Nathaniel, as if daring him to argue.

“It’s exactly where it’s meant to be,” Caleb added, his stormy gaze locked onto Nathaniel’s.

And just like that, Caleb’s arm slid around my waist guiding me into the rhythm of the waltz.

The room seemed to breathe again, the tension dissolving as though nothing had happened. Conversations resumed, the music swelled, and the show went on.

I glanced back, catching the sight of Nathaniel leading Elena onto the dance floor, his movements stiff, his face flushed with anger.

But all I could feel was the hand on my waist, the heat of Caleb’s body as he pulled me into the dance. His other hand grazed my neck, his thumb brushing over the spot Nathaniel’s fingers had dug into moments before.

“I meant to do that since I saw you” his voice low, almost tender. The sharpness I was used to from him softened just enough to make my stomach flip. “He hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” I said, even though my voice wavered.

I swallowed hard, unsure if I hated him for how calm he was or if I hated myself for wanting him to keep touching me.

“What does it mean?” I blurted, surprising myself.

“What does what mean?”

“The necklace. The dress. All of this.” I gestured vaguely at the room, my voice laced with frustration. “Are you toying with me?”

His chuckle was low and smooth, curling around me like smoke.

“I just wanted to prove a point.”

“A point?” I asked, my tone sharp, though my pulse quickened.

“That you look exquisite in red,” he said, his voice dipping lower, as if the words were meant for me alone.

Was he serious? My fingers tightened on his shoulder, not to steady myself but to hold back from something far more reckless.

All I could do was cling to the thin thread of composure I had left.

“And the necklace?”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke.

“To show everyone who you are.”

The words sent a jolt through me, my heart stuttering in my chest. I pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze.

“And who am I?”

His smirk deepened, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Someone who asks too many questions without answering any.” His grin widened. “Let’s change that. Truth or dare?”

“Are you serious?”

“Truth or dare, Ivy,” he repeated, his tone light but his gaze sharp, unwavering.

I hesitated, my breath catching.

“Dare”

Caleb’s grin widened, wicked and victorious.

“Follow me.”

~

One minute, I was accepting a dare, and the next, I am following him to a sketchy door at the far end of the ballroom, guarded by a guy built like a fridge. He didn’t even flinch when he saw Caleb. Just stepped aside like this was some secret club Caleb had a lifetime membership to. Caleb didn’t say a word, didn’t even acknowledge the guy—just walked in like he’d built the damn place.

“Be bold.”

That was his dare.

And here I was—tipsy, bold, and maybe a little bit reckless in a VIP gambling room, betting more money than I’d ever seen in my life.

The private gambling room was darker, quieter, and ten times more intense. The air was heavy with cigar smoke, and the polished tables gleamed under dim, golden light.

Caleb acted like this was his personal playground. Meanwhile, I was sitting there, drinking like a maniac and trying not to let the thrill—or the fear—get to me. Did I belong here? Absolutely not. But did I care? Absolutely f*****g not.

“It’s just a game,” Caleb said, his voice low and smooth, leaning close enough that his breath brushed my ear. “Have fun, Just Ivy.”

The way he said my name made something in my chest tighten. I sank into the chair, ignoring the curious stares as Caleb stood behind me, his hands resting lightly on the back of my chair.

“Do you gamble often?” I asked, trying to focus on the table instead of the warmth radiating from him.

“Not anymore,” he replied, his tone amused. “But I’m excellent at giving advice.”

His hand brushed my shoulder, a light, fleeting touch, as he leaned down to whisper. “Pick the second set of cards. Watch his left hand—he taps when he bluffs.”

I did as he said, my heart racing as the dealer revealed the cards. I won.

A flush of pride warmed me, and I turned to look at Caleb, his smirk widening as if he’d expected nothing less.

“See? Simple.”

The next round, I lost.

I groaned, leaning back in frustration.

“I told you I don’t gamble.”

“Yet here you are,” Caleb teased, his voice laced with amusement.

“Don’t start,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips.

By the third round, I was catching on—or maybe it was just the whiskey—but I won again.

One of the men at the table scowled, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Beginner’s luck,” he sneered. “Or maybe you’re just his pet project.”

I stiffened, the alcohol in my veins fueling my boldness.

“Jealous?” I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.

His lip curled, his fists clenched at his sides.

Behind me, Caleb smiled laced with genuine amusement. His calm presence loomed, like a storm cloud, unmoving but ready to strike if needed.

The man leaned forward, pointing a finger at me.

“Little b***h like you doesn’t belong at this table. Morte has you in a short leash”

Morte? Who the f**k was Morte?

“The only leash I see here is the one wrapped around your tiny brain”

Caleb snorted softly behind me. He didn’t intervene, didn’t say a word, just stood there, his calm presence radiating power.

“Keep talking, and you’ll regret it.”

“Oh, I regret plenty of things—this conversation included—but watching you lose isn’t one of them.”

The room grew tense, the other players at the table shifting uncomfortably as the man’s face turned red. His hand twitched at his side like he was debating whether or not to reach for something.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth on you.” he growled. “You’re about one more word away from eating those chips.”

“Thanks for noticing. Guess you’re not totally useless after all.”

The man’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood, his glare cutting toward me.

Caleb’s voice cut through the air, calm and deadly.

“Attento, è velenosa,” he said in smooth Italian, his tone deceptively light.

The man froze mid-step remembering his presence, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Caleb’s steady gaze.

With a flick of his fingers, Caleb gestured to the dealer, who quickly stepped in.

“Gentlemen, game is over.”

The man’s gaze darted between me and Caleb, his face pale, his confidence shattered. He muttered something under his breath before turning and storming out of the room, escorted by the dealer.

I watched them all go, a strange sense of triumph swelling in my chest. My heart was still pounding, but not with fear—with exhilaration.

Nathaniel would’ve told me to stay quiet, to not make a scene, to let him handle it. But Caleb? Caleb let me fight my own battle. His presence didn’t silence me; it ignited something in me.

“You didn’t stop me,” I said, turning to glance at him.

He smirked, his stormy gray eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Why would I? You were doing great.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more addictive.

I felt... powerful. Bold. Like I was finally more than a shadow, more than someone’s accessory. And it was because of him.

“What does velenosa mean?” I asked, my voice quieter now, but no less firm.

His smirk returned, slow and calculated.

“A nickname just for you.”

“What does it mean?” I pressed

His eyes gleamed with mischief as he answered, his voice rich with amusement. “Poisonous.”

“You’re insufferable.”

The alcohol buzzing in my veins loosened my grip on reason I grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table, pouring myself another drink with deliberate slowness. Then, without breaking eye contact, I stood, my movements languid but loaded with intent.

“Well then,” I said, my tone dripping with mock indifference as I turned to face him fully. I took a slow sip, the warmth of the whiskey igniting something bold inside me. “Back to the game.”

The challenge in my stance was clear, the slight tilt of my head daring him to respond.

“I saw how they looked at you. What is your truth, De Luca?”

“Truth?” he said, tilting his head slightly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’m whoever you want me to be tonight, Ivy.”

His answer didn’t satisfy me, but before I could press further, he asked his own question.

“Tell me, Ivy—when was the last time you felt alive under someone’s hands?”

My breath hitched, his question slicing through the haze of alcohol.

“You think you can make me feel alive?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended, the words a defense against the way my pulse quickened.

His smirk softened, his gaze dropping to my lips before returning to my eyes.

“Is that a dare?” He purred, his velvet voice wrapping around me like tendrils of smoke.