RUN, LITTLE MOUSE: CLAIMED BY THE MAFIA KING

The air in the penthouse didn't smell like air. It smelled like expensive leather, aged scotch, and the kind of suffocating silence that only exists in places where people get away with murder. I stood on the polished marble floor, my heels clicking like a countdown clock. I was shivering, though the apartment was climate-controlled to perfection. "You look like you're waiting for an execution," a voice drawled from the shadows. I jumped, my breath hitching. Dominic Moretti stepped into the light. He was just as the rumors described: sharp angles, eyes like cold flint, and a suit that probably cost more than my stepbrother’s life,which, judging by the fact that I was currently being traded like livestock, wasn’t worth much anyway. "I’m waiting for the truth," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Is this a joke? My stepbrother... he said this was a business meeting." Dominic laughed. It wasn't a warm sound. It was the dry, scraping sound of stone on stone. He walked toward me, his pace measured, predatory. He stopped inches away, invading my space with the scent of sandalwood and something darker, something like gunpowder. "Does your brother look like a man who conducts business meetings with men like me, Bella?" "He told me.." "He told you a lie," Dominic cut in, his voice dropping an octave. "He owed a debt. A substantial one. He couldn't pay in cash, so he offered the only asset he had left that actually carried value. You." My stomach turned. "I’m not an asset. I’m a human being." Dominic reached out, his gloved thumb tracing the line of my jaw. It was a cold, clinical touch that made my skin crawl. "In this room, you are whatever I decide you are. And right now? You are collateral." I pulled back, my chin trembling. "You can’t keep me here. This is kidnapping. I have a life. I have school.." "You had a life," he corrected, turning toward a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city lights of New York. "As of ten minutes ago, your life belongs to the Moretti estate. You belong to me." "I’ll run," I spat, the bravado tasting like ash. "The second you turn your back, I’ll be out that door." Dominic didn't even look back at me. He picked up a crystal tumbler from a side table, the amber liquid catching the moonlight. "The door is locked, Bella. The elevators require a biometric scan I alone possess. And if you somehow manage to bypass the security, you’ll find that the world outside this apartment has been scrubbed of your existence. Your phone? Dead. Your bank accounts? Frozen. Your stepbrother? He’s currently on a one-way flight to somewhere very hot and very unpleasant." My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate to break through the cage. "You’re a monster." "I’m a businessman," he said, turning back to face me. The mask of indifference had slipped. His eyes were burning now, dark with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "And I don’t like it when my inventory talks back." He stalked toward me again. I retreated, my back hitting the solid, cold expanse of the wall. He surged forward, trapping me between his arms. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his chest. "Why me?" I whispered, my voice breaking. "Why destroy me for his mistakes?" Dominic leaned in, his lips hovering just millimeters from my ear. His breath was hot, a sharp contrast to the ice in his eyes. "Because he knew I’d take you. He knew I’d been watching you for months. He didn't just pay a debt, Bella. He sold you to the highest bidder, and he knew exactly who that bidder was." "You... you were watching me?" "I don't leave things to chance," he murmured. His hand moved from my jaw to my throat, his thumb pressing lightly against my pulse point. He was gauging my fear, savoring the rhythm of my terror. "I prefer to collect what is mine." "I’ll never.." "Never say never," he interrupted, his fingers tightening just enough to make me gasp. "It’s a tedious word. You think you have a choice. You think you can fight this. But you’re already here. You’re already mine. The only thing you get to choose now is how much you’re going to enjoy the transition." "I hate you," I breathed. He smirked, a dangerous, jagged thing. "Good. Hate is a far more useful emotion than indifference. It keeps you alert. It keeps you connected to me." He pulled back, surveying me like a prize. The silence stretched, heavy and thick. Every instinct I had screamed at me to scream, to kick, to break something, but his presence was a vacuum that sucked the oxygen out of the room. "Go to the bedroom," he commanded, gesturing toward a door down the hall. "And if I don't?" Dominic reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-lined box. He flipped it open. Inside sat a simple, thick silver band. He pulled it out and held it up. "This isn't a marriage proposal, Bella. It’s a tracking device and a constant reminder of who owns the skin you're standing in." I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. "I won't wear it." He stepped forward, his eyes turning predatory. The playfulness was gone. "The alternative is that I call your stepbrother right now and tell him he’s failed to complete the transaction. We both know what happens to people who default on a contract with me. Do you want his blood on your hands, or do you want to play by my rules?" "You're a sociopath," I sobbed. "I'm your reality." He grabbed my left hand, his grip like iron. He slid the silver band onto my finger. It was heavy, cold, and fit perfectly. It felt like a shackle. "Now," he whispered, leaning down until his lips brushed mine. "The bedroom. Change into something that doesn't look like a charity donation. We have a dinner engagement in an hour, and I don't like my acquisitions looking like they've been crying." "I'm not going anywhere with you." Dominic leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate murmur that vibrated through my entire body. "You will go. You will smile. And you will make sure that everyone at that table believes you are the happiest woman in the city. If you embarrass me, Bella, I promise you, the punishment will be far more... intimate than a lock on the door." He released my hand and turned his back on me, walking toward his desk as if I were already irrelevant. "One hour," he called out without turning around. "Don't make me come in there and dress you myself. You wouldn't like the results." I stood there, trembling, looking at the silver band on my finger. It glinted under the lights, a permanent mark of my slavery. I took a step toward the bedroom, my legs feeling like lead. I had to get out. I had to find a phone, a window, a way to signal for help. But as I reached the door, I glanced back. Dominic was watching me, not from the desk, but through the reflection in the dark glass of the window. He was staring directly at me, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my knees buckle. He was right. I was trapped. I walked into the bedroom and shut the door, my heart shattered. I looked around the room. It was opulent, gold and cream, but it felt like a gilded tomb. I stumbled toward the vanity, looking for anything,a heavy brush, a letter opener, anything to use as a weapon. My fingers brushed against a small, ornate jewelry box. I opened it, hoping for a pin, a tool, something. Instead, I found a photograph. It was a picture of me. Yesterday. Walking out of the university library, completely oblivious, laughing at a text message. My hands went cold. The picture was dated, time-stamped. And beneath the photo was a small, hand-written note on a piece of heavy, cream-colored stationery. *Property of D. Moretti. Do not touch.* The floor seemed to drop out from under me. I scrambled backward, hitting the vanity and sending a perfume bottle crashing to the floor. It shattered, filling the room with a cloying, floral scent that made me gag. The bedroom door clicked open. Dominic stood in the doorway, his silhouette blocking the light from the living room. He didn't look angry. He looked bored. He looked like he was watching a pet struggle in a cage it couldn't understand. "I told you not to make me come in here," he said, his voice echoing in the small space. He crossed the room in two strides, his shadow looming over me. He looked down at the shattered perfume bottle, then at the photo on the vanity, then at me. "Curiosity, Bella?" he asked, his voice chillingly soft. "That’s a dangerous trait." He reached out, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back until I was forced to look up at him. His eyes were wide, dark, and utterly devoid of pity. "I think it's time you learned exactly what happens to things that don't follow instructions." He stepped closer, his hand sliding from my hair to the back of my neck, his fingers digging into the skin. He leaned down, his mouth inches from mine, and the hunger in his eyes was so visceral I felt a jolt of pure, unadulterated fear and something else, something terrifying, that shivered down my spine. "The dinner is canceled," he whispered, his grip tightening. "I’ve decided I’d rather keep you here and teach you a much more important lesson." He pushed me back onto the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he climbed over me, pinning me beneath him. "Do you know why I really bought you, Bella?" he hissed, his face hovering just above mine. "It wasn't for the debt. It was because you're the only thing I've ever wanted that I wasn't allowed to have. And now..." He reached for the buttons of my blouse, his eyes locked on mine, waiting for me to scream, waiting for me to fight. "Now, you’re never going to leave this bed again."