Claimed By The Mafia Brothers.

$8. In Exchange For Forgiveness

"Nobody told me how hot scars and tattoos make a man."

_

Rebecca cleared her throat and kept her head high. "How many times do I have to say it before you can understand that I am not your maid? You're holding me prisoner and I won't yield to your desires!" She spat out at his face.

Diego suddenly closed the space between them. She instinctively took a step back but his hand was already around her neck.

He pulled her back to himself and a gasp escaped her lips. She stared wide eyed at him but her fear didn't come true. She already prepared herself for the pain of being strangled but his hold around her neck, as firm as it was, was gentle. Far from hostile.

He stared into her eyes, his face was so close to hers. A little too close that she began wondering if he wanted to kiss her.

"Cattivella," his voice was soft, close to a whisper, "don't make me hurt you... how many times do I have to say it before you can understand that you are mine? You belong to me, you owe me your life."

Her eyes burnt with tears, not because she was sad but because she had forgotten to blink.

She felt a dangerous flame burning inside her, too brightly and too hot. Her body began to burn with a dangerous passion that confused her.

How could she feel so attracted to this... this possessive, stubborn, dangerous, handsome, dangerously sexy man?

She barged into his room to make it clear to him that she wasn't a property for him to own, but her tongue had melted with her mouth.

His body was so sexy, she felt like drooling when she noticed his v-line earlier. He was like a forbidden fruit, enticing and mouth watering yet poisonous to the soul.

He seemed to be staring at her as well, her face, her neck. Or so she imagined.

She felt his hand slide to the back of her neck with his thumb gently touching her earlobe, sending sparks through her body.

He forced her closer, making her meet his eyes when she tried to look away. He tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at her reddened cheek. His eyes squinted. "Who did this to you?"

She tried to move out of his hold but he kept her in place. She frowned and looked away. "No one. I hurt myself."

He squinted, obviously not buying her lie, but he said nothing more about it which she was grateful for.

He cupped her face and forced her eyes to meet his. "I don't want you to make me regret keeping you alive, the least you can do is pay me back for saving your life."

"By being your slave?!" She demanded, the spark of rage returning to her eyes.

"Your father owes me more than your life can pay, I'm willing to settle for a lifetime of you serving me. Tomorrow morning, don't forget my coffee." He stated firmly and released his grip from her neck.

When he moved away, she finally found the courage to breathe. She remained fixed on the spot, glaring at his back as he turned around. But her eyes landed on a fresh wound that probably ached as much as her own. The gun wound he had sustained when he took a bullet for her.

She felt conflicted on the inside, why would a ruthless man like him who didn't care about her take a bullet for her?

"Do you have to stare so obviously?" His deep voice caught her ear, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"Yesterday..." she started hesitantly, wondering if it was possible to have a conversation with a man like him. "Those people that shot at us, who were they? Did you offend someone?"

He chuckled softly. "I'm obviously on a lot of people's hit list."

She waited for a better explanation but was met by silence. When he didn't speak, she found the courage to ask. "Why did you take a bullet for me?"

He froze for a moment as if wondering why he had done it himself. Then he turned around, dropping what he was doing, and faced her. "You're mine, I won't let anyone take you from me, not even you." He said firmly.

She felt enraged by his words but there was something else flickering underneath her rage. Comfort? Knowing that there was someone who would take a bullet for her without thinking twice about it.

She huffed and stormed out of his room.

While in the elevator, she felt a storm of emotions rise inside her. She didn't know why she was feeling so conflicted. "Why do I have to have a weak spot for handsome faces and tattoos?" She asked herself.

As the door dinged, she left the elevator on her floor but stopped misstep as she noticed someone standing not too far from her door.

She frowned. "Dr Chase."

His lips curved into a gentle smile. "I was starting to wonder where you ran off to this time." He nudged his head towards her door. "Let's check your wound."

She didn't return his smile. She went into her room with him following behind her. She hated how she had to undress in front of him so he could check her wound. She managed to cover her breast– barely though– with her hands as he changed her bandage.

When he was done, she quickly threw on her dress and refused to meet his eyes.

He smiled and sat down next to her on the bed. "I get it, you're mad that I lied about the sleeping pills, you wouldn't have taken them otherwise. You and I both know that."

She didn't respond.

"Okay, in exchange for your forgiveness, I'll answer three questions eating you up. How does that sound?" He asked.

Her face lit up and she finally met his eyes. It was definitely a deal worth taking.