In The Bed With The Don

Aira was tall and graceful, with long legs and a figure that turned heads wherever she went. Her skin was fair and smooth, glowing softly in the light. But it was her blue eyes that stood out the most bright, sharp, and full of secrets. Her dark brown hair flowed down her back in soft waves, sometimes catching the sunlight with a golden shine. She looked like a dream, beautiful, mysterious, and stronger than she seemed. She was a lecturer in college, coming back from college. She was very tired. Because today is the day her student's exams have finished. And she was thinking that she would rest a lot today. She takes her father's favourite food from the way. She was amazed to see the number of black cars parked outside her house. Instantly, she ran inside. The door slammed open with a force that rattled her bones. "Dad?" Aria’s voice cracked as she stumbled into the house, the sharp scent of gunmetal and sweat thick in the air. Her heart stuttered. She saw her father kneeling, and blood trickled from his temple, someone holding a pistol over his head. And behind him sat a man on a chair with black sleeves rolled, pistol pressed to her father's head like it belonged there. He didn’t look up. Didn’t need to. The weight of his presence filled the room like smoke. Calm, composed deadly. Her words got stuck in her throat; she wanted to speak, but her words were choked. She felt a strong grip on her shoulders. She wanted to look at him, but because of the moisture in her eyes, she couldn't look at him for a moment. She made every effort to resist. There were many bodyguards there who were wearing black suits. Aira gasped as the grip on her shoulders tightened, dragging her further into the room. Her heels scraped against the hardwood, but it didn’t slow them. Her heart pounded, deafening in her ears. The man sitting behind her father finally stirred. He rose slowly from the chair, every movement deliberate a man who never rushed, because the world moved for him. He wore black from head to toe, sleeves still rolled, revealing powerful forearms inked with symbols she didn’t understand. His face was cruelly handsome, sharp jawline, cold eyes, lips that didn’t need to smile to command silence. She knew it instinctively, like prey recognizing the apex predator. He stepped closer, the pistol now casually resting in his hand but no less deadly. "You're Aira." His voice was deep, calm, soaked in authority. “I expected more.” She flinched. David looked her over like she was a puzzle to be solved or a weapon to be disarmed. Her breath caught when his eyes stopped on hers. Cold. Calculated. Unforgiving. “You barged into something that doesn’t concern you,” he said, circling her now. “Your father made a mistake. You... inherited the consequences.” “Let him go,” Ava whispered. Her voice cracked. She hated that. Zane paused behind her. The heat of his presence burned at her back. “Let him go?” he echoed. A laugh low, dark, cruel rolled off his tongue. “Sweetheart, no one tells me what to do. Not the cops. Not politicians. And certainly not you.” Ava tried to lunge forward, but the guard yanked her back, forcing her to her knees. The cold floor bit into her skin. Her father made a muffled sound through the gag, trying to get to her failing. Zane stepped in front of her. Towering. Imposing. “You want him alive?” he asked, raising the gun again this time, aiming it straight at her father's head. “Then listen very carefully. You’re going to do exactly what I say. From now on, you belong to me.” Her breath caught. The words hit harder than any bullet. “What... what do you mean?” she stammered. Zane crouched down, his eyes inches from hers. “Your father owes me a debt. A life for a life. He can’t pay it... but you can.” He leaned closer, brushing a tear off her cheek with the barrel of his gun. “Welcome to your new reality, dolcezza. You just became mine.” David tilted his head, amused. “Take the gag off,” he ordered. One of the guards stepped forward and yanked it away. The cloth dropped, soaked in sweat and blood. Her father gasped for air, then choked out, “Please... please don’t touch her. She’s innocent. She doesn’t know anything. I’ll do whatever you want, David. Just... just don’t drag my daughter into this.” Aira’s chest tightened. “Dad” “I begged you before,” her father croaked, eyes pleading. “You want me? Fine. Kill me. Hurt me. But leave her out of this. She's not part of my mistakes!” David’s expression didn’t change. Not a flicker of mercy. “Innocence is irrelevant,” he said coldly. “You should’ve thought about your daughter before you stole from me.” “I didn’t have a choice,” her father cried. “They would’ve killed us” “And now I might,” David snapped, voice still low, but ice-cold and venomous. He crouched again, this time looking between the two of them. “Do you think your tears move me? Does your begging change the rules?” Ava reached for her father’s hand, but a guard kicked it away. “Stop!” she cried, panic rising. “Why are you doing this?! I’ll give you whatever you want” “You will,” David said, standing again. “Because your father made you the price.” “No,” her father wheezed. “Don’t. Please. Not her.” But David had already made his decision. He turned to the guards. “Take her.” “No!” Her father lunged too slow, too weak. A guard slammed him back to the floor. Ava screamed as two men grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet. “Dad!” she shrieked, fighting them, her voice raw, heart shattering. “Dad!” He thrashed against the hold of the guards, bloody and broken, but his voice rose one last time: “Ava, I’m sorry! Don’t let him break you!” And then David stepped between them, blocking her view of her father entirely. His voice was soft, terrifying in its calm. “He already did.”