CAPTURED BY THE MAFIA KING

Chapter 3

Sienna's POV

I staggered on the spot, an icy force drilling through my veins. He couldn't possibly be serious. He couldn't. “Why…” I paused, the coldness charging through my veins, stealing control of my throat too. “Why would you want to marry me?”

“Because that is the only way to protect my assets, to make sure you don't get taken from here, no matter how hard the Lucentinis fight to. A slave they can take with the help of the law, but not my wife. They wouldn't dare.” His eyes pumped with a fire as his deep voice echoed his last sentence.

The words, just like his voice, drilled through me. I felt the conviction, the power, and the finality that sealed my fate as hard as a judge’s gavel.

I forced some strength into myself, power to my nerves, and I looked up at him, defiant. “I am not going through with this marriage. You can't make me say the vows, as you can't make me sign the marriage license. My parents have been killed, so you cannot threaten me with anything.”

“That isn't exactly true, Sienna.” He grinned. “I do have something with which I can make you do my bidding.”

I sneered, my upper lip raised in a hostile glare at him. “And what is that, you devil?” I challenged. My whole body still jittered from the fear of him, but it couldn't eclipse the heat charging through the veins, and it couldn't stop the adrenaline surging through me in demand for his blood.

“It is your life, Sienna. I hold your life in my hand, and it is my leverage against you.” He grinned. “The maids are coming to get you ready for your wedding day.”

He stepped away from the door, and it slammed shut in my face. The bang rattled the room, echoing against the stone walls, and amidst the bang was a sharp click.

The devil. He’d locked me in. I couldn't let him go through with this. Getting married to him was worse than being his slave. Becoming his wife meant I was bound to him, not for a while, not for a few years, but forever. Cold tremors seized me again, just thinking about that. I couldn't let that happen.

I ran fast to the window. I pushed the shutters, looking down. I was on the second floor, and it looked to be over thirty feet from the ground.

I turned, throwing my gaze around the room thoroughly and quickly. But my visual exploration revealed no other way out of this prison. I returned to the window, holding the steel frame of the windowsill. I had no choice but to jump. I’ll break a leg, yeah. But so what? That was far better than years of damnation in this hell with a devil like Lorenzo De Luca.

I shut my eyes tight, my fingers trembling on the windowsill. The less I see of the height, the less I am scared of it. I was about to climb the windowsill when a click sliced the silence behind me.

I opened my eyes to find the door with a group of maids pouring in. One of them carried a flowing wedding dress and veil on her arms. Another carried flowers.

They all spotted me by the window. Their eyes widened, alarmed at the guess of what I was about to do. Two of those who held nothing rushed fast for me.

I climbed the windowsill hurriedly. Just as I was about to haul myself into the air, a force of arms grabbed onto my waist. They pulled me fast into the room before the air could claim me.

My back slammed against the floor as they battled me to the ground. Pain jarred through every nerve ending in my back.

“Let me go, let me go,” I screamed, battling away their arms. But there were many of them. They held me down to the ground. Some grabbed my arms, others held my legs, all of them pinning me to the ground while I struggled, pushed, kicked, and shoved unsuccessfully.

“We are sorry, girl. But we have to do this." One of them said, her voice dripping with pity.

They tried to take off my shirt and shorts, but I kept struggling, frustrating their plans. Then one of them grabbed two pairs of scissors from a chest of drawers in the room. She passed it to another maid, and soon the noise of clicking scissors and tearing material punctuated my screams. The cold midnight breeze assaulted my bare body more and more as my shirt and bum shorts were being cruelly ripped off me until I was down to my bra and panties. Then they forced the dress down on me, their strong fingers tightening around my arms and legs to keep me steady so they could dress me up in the wedding dress.

By the time they stood up from me, I was panting hard, my chest heaving hard against the wedding dress, my lungs aching, and my limbs felt like lead around me. I lay on the floor, fighting for breath, unable to move, but staring at the concrete ceiling. Each breath I took hurt and stung my lungs more than the last.

I was still weak, lying on the floor when the door opened again with a slow, aching squeal. I flicked my eyes up, shifting just my head to look behind me. I spotted the loafers first and traced the long, powerful legs up to his face. He grinned down at me, and he dropped to squat just beside my head. His steel gray eyes trailed down my face to the rest of my body, and his grin broadened.

“Now you look like a real bride, darling Sienna. Now, let's go get married.”

I summoned some strength into my groaning limbs, and I shifted from his reach, but somehow, I still ended up in his arms. He grabbed me tight to his chest in bridal style.

“Let me go,” I screamed. “If you force me into marrying you, I would make you regret it until the day you die.” I snarled, kicking and pushing against his body as he carried me past the door.

He teased me with another grin. “I would look forward to that, Sienna.” His lips parted, twitching slightly as if amused.

The bastard—what was so funny about this? Why does he have to ruin my life further after the Lucentinis made me an orphan? I was supposed to be grieving, mourning my dead parents, not getting married.

He carried me down the stairs and into the living room. He was strolling with me in his arms and towards the entrance door when the door burst open with a massive thud. A group of men in dark blue suits bounced in, marching powerfully into the living room unarmed, escorted in by Lorenzo's men, who covered them with guns.

My eyes picked on and centered on the tattoo of a roaring tiger inked on their neck. I recognized it immediately—the Lucentinis. The bastards that killed my parents. Their underlings wore the tattoos on their arms, but Don Emilio's inner circle wore them on their necks. So I knew once that they were the bigger shots in the bloody gang, the ones that ordered the hit on my parents and me.

I remembered seeing one or two of them come by our house to see Dad one time. I remembered them sharing a laugh or two with Dad. My fingers curled tight into thick fists just thinking about it, adrenaline roaring through me, and I hungered for their blood.

Lorenzo's arms tremble slightly around me. I glanced up at him to see his eyes following the older man that led the group of intruders as the man found his way to a sofa and sank his large weight into it, while the others gathered behind him.

There was something menacing about the older man. He was too calm, too poised, too small, too cold, and too civil. He looked like more than just a Mafia man. He looked… My eyes snapped wider on him, hot tremors washing through me. He was the devil who ordered the hit on Dad—Don Emilio.

Lorenzo dropped me onto the floor carefully. But still held onto my waist, and he walked with me closer toward Don Emilio. “Old man, I thought we agreed no trespassing on each other's property.” He said, his upper lip raised in a somewhat exaggerated smirk.

Don Emilio fished out a Cuban from his jacket. He held it to his lips with his small aged fingers. One of his men dropped forward with a gold-case lighter and lit it for him. He sucked on it, exposing nicotine-stained teeth, and puffed wisps of thick grey smoke into the air. Then he spoke. His voice was thin, yet it held the authority of a Don. “You trespassed first, Lorenzo. You took my property and killed my men.”

“Not exactly, old man.” Lorenzo grinned. His hold tightened on my waist, and he dragged me to a sofa with him, forcing me to sit right beside him. “I am guilty of just one crime, which is killing your men, and I had to do that because they were about to kill my fiancé. Drastic times call for drastic measures.”

Don Emilio eyed his Cuban with his thin, almost monolid eyes, as if admiring its thickness. “But she isn't your fiancé, Lorenzo. She is the daughter of my consigliere, and by extension, she is mine.”

Lorenzo relaxed on his seat, his grin growing, an amusement splitting his face. I knew he had bad blood with Don Emilio, but this seemed more personal. He seemed as though he was enjoying this exchange. “I thought you were a believer in love, old man. I didn't take you for a love hater.”

“Love…” Don Emilio repeated thoughtfully as he puffed out another batch of dark smoke, curling as they melted into the air. Then he shifted fully to Lorenzo, his little fingers quivering around the Cuban. Raw steel in his eyes. “Don't waste my time, Lorenzo. Give me the girl, and we call it even now. You have probably never met this girl until this night, and you are over fifteen years older than her to have been able to have had any relationship with her.”

Lorenzo sat up again, staring right into the heat in Don Emilio's eyes. His lips crumbled into another grin. This one taunted the old man. His fingers trembled harder from suppressed rage, and his Cuban almost fell from his fingers. He had to grab onto it with his full hand.

“Age has nothing to do with love. And if you didn't know, we have been dating in secret for a year now and secretly got engaged with each other. After I rescued her tonight, I led her to the altar and made her my wife.” He lied. He threw his back to the sofa again and threw his arm around my shoulder. “So you can understand, I can't give up my wife. What kind of a husband gives his wife to the very men that murdered her parents?”

“That's all a lie.” Don Emilio snarled, his face tightening with so much rage he looked like a balloon about to burst.

I didn't know what came over me. Whether it was the rush of impulse or the extreme hate that bubbled through me for Don Emilio. But I snuggled into Lorenzo's arm. “It isn't a lie, Don Emilio. Lorenzo and I are already married.”