Taken by the mafia boss

Chapter 7

LIAM

I found myself captivated by the sight of the Sleeping Beauty, a whimsical smile playing on my lips. The source of my inexplicable joy eluded me, but perhaps it stemmed from the simple pleasure of having her slumbering form beside me at last. Like a miniature fortress, she had barricaded herself on the mattress with an army of pillows, a silent declaration for me to maintain my distance.

Amusement bubbled up within me as I surveyed the scene, taking in the disarray of discarded pillows scattered across the floor. But nothing could keep her truly out of my reach, not even her temporary ire towards me. In this very moment, she snuggled against my side, her pouty lips beckoning me with an irresistible allure.

Unable to resist the temptation that danced before me, I leaned in and pressed a tender kiss upon her lips, savoring the softness and warmth they offered. However, my blissful interlude was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of my phone, which had persistently sought my attention for a good thirty minutes now.

With a reluctant sigh, I left the comforting embrace of the bed, much to her displeasure. Her groan of protest only deepened my smile.

Her reaction when she thought I was going to force her to marry me was comical.

Undeniably, I held an intense attraction to this captivating woman, verging on an obsession, but the idea of marriage seemed to stretch the boundaries of our connection far too thin.

Do I desire her enough to walk her down the aisle, to bind our lives with vows exchanged under the sacred canopy of matrimony? I don't believe so. However, one thing I know for certain is that I want her presence in my life, to have her by my side.

Should the time come when I am prepared for such a leap, I hoped she would be there, not some prearranged, hollow choice handpicked by Clifford, that pompous individual.

He had always struggled to rein me in during my rebellious teenage years, so what delusion made him believe he could exert control over me now? He resorted to using my deceased mother as leverage, a desperate attempt to manipulate my emotions.

It may not come as a surprise, but Marilyn, the woman who raised me, wasn't my biological mother. Clifford had brought me home after my mother's passing, and Marilyn embraced me as her own since she couldn't conceive a child of her own.

Leaving the comfort of the bedroom, I made my way down the hallway and entered my office before answering the persistent call. "Either you possess a staggering level of stupidity, Chloe, or you have a death wish. What on earth is so crucial that you've been incessantly blowing up my phone? I specifically told you to contact me only in emergencies."

"Well, hello to you too, Liam," she slurred in a drunken haze. "How kind of you to finally grace me with your attention."

I despised her when she was under the influence of alcohol. Inebriated, she spewed incoherence and made absolutely no sense. "I'm ending this call, Chloe. Call me back when you're sober."

“Will you answer your phone?” I have no intention to. I’m a busy man who wants to spend the little time he has with the woman on his bed. “I thought as much. Please don’t hang up.” She pleaded. “I’m begging you Liam.”

"What do you want, Chloe? I am a man consumed by the demands of a hectic life."

“I need you Liam.” My finger hovered round the dismiss call icon. "I'm drunk, and I'm... horny. I miss you... your touch... your kisses."

Samantha remained the sole woman I had ever kissed on the lips in my adult life. "Is that the sole purpose of your call? To ramble meaningless words into my ear?" A loud crash echoed in the background, followed by her mischievous giggle. "What just happened?" I couldn't ignore the protective instinct that surged within me. Regardless of my lack of desire for her, it didn't mean I wouldn't shield her from harm. I drove her into this obsession with me. "Chloe?"

"Oh, sorry," she giggled once more, her voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. "I was trying to set up the camera." Camera? My mind raced, attempting to piece together the fragments of this perplexing puzzle. "Do you think it's broken?" Her voice quivered with uncertainty.

"Where is Pete?" I questioned, my patience waning as I battled exhaustion and the weight of my responsibilities. "I don't possess the strength or the time to deal with this."

"You mean that mean security guy you hired to watch over me?" She snorted dismissively. "He's somewhere outside. You know I prefer to sleep naked, so he wouldn't dare to step foot into my room."

‘Pete has likely seen more naked women than he cares to admit,’ I remarked under my breath, refraining from voicing that observation to Chloe. "Drop the camera and go to sleep, Chloe. You're intoxicated. Call me in the morning, I promise to answer."

Her response echoed through the phone, the sound of the sheets rustling in the background. "I'll go to bed after I make a video of myself. Maybe when you watch a video of me touching myself, bringing myself to c****x while screaming your name, then you'll come to me."

Once upon a time, her provocative words had stirred something within me. In fact, when I traveled for business engagements and couldn't bring her along, I had personally requested such videos. However, circumstances had shifted. I now had Samantha in my life, and Chloe's attempts to entice me were no longer welcomed.

"Send me any inappropriate videos, and I will never answer your call again," I warned, my tone firm and resolute. "I mean it, Chloe. You know I don't make empty threats."

"That's right, sugar," she taunted, her voice dripping with confidence. "I know you well enough to predict that you won't answer my calls after tomorrow. Tomorrow is merely a promise you already made." Her breathing grew heavier, insinuating a direction that held no appeal for me. "Promise me that you'll always pick up when I call, and I won't send the video."

I abruptly ended the call, refusing to be manipulated or blackmailed over a pornographic video. Let her ride off to hell and dance with the devil for all I cared. Letting out a rough exhale, I summoned Cent into my office before fixing myself a drink, the amber liquid swirling in my glass.

Cent entered the room, looking disheveled and avoiding my gaze, his demeanor resembling that of a drenched cat. "I apologize for what transpired earlier, boss," he recited with a mechanical tone.

Ignoring his presence for a moment, I gripped the glass in my left hand, my right hand finding solace in the depths of my pocket. Jameson had always been my drink of choice, perhaps because it had been my mother's favorite. "Is that all you have to say?" I inquired, my voice cool and detached.

He shook his head, a flicker of remorse in his eyes. "I acknowledge my wrongdoing, and I am willing to accept any punishment you deem fit, with a smile on my lips."

Nodding with a calculated air of authority, I strode purposefully towards my desk, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the room. With deliberate poise, I set the glass down and settled into my chair, exuding an aura of command. "Come closer," I commanded, my voice carrying a weight of expectation. Cent complied, positioning himself near my table.

Gesturing towards the gleaming dagger, I directed him, "Pick it up and hand it over to me." Surprise flickered across his widened eyes, but he silently obeyed, his trembling hand reaching out to retrieve the weapon.

"The sole reason you draw breath in this very moment is because of that woman, for whom you foolishly developed an insipid attraction," I asserted, leaning forward and fixing him with an unwavering gaze. "She pleaded for your wretched life." The weight of my words hung heavy in the air between us.

"You shall relinquish your position at the brotherhood's table and assume responsibility for handling street affairs with the new recruits," I continued, my voice carrying a razor-sharp edge. "Do not dare to appear before me. Any reports or updates shall be relayed through Badok. Am I perfectly clear?!"

"Yes, boss," he acquiesced without pleading for leniency. Cent comprehended the magnitude of my mercy, aware that one misstep could swiftly turn the tides against him. He made a move to depart, but I halted him in his tracks.

"I require your ten fingers firmly pressed upon this desk," I declared, my voice a chilling blend of authority and menace. His terror-stricken eyes darted between the dagger in my hand and the unforgiving surface of the desk. "Do not force me to repeat myself, Cent. Surely you did not expect to simply walk away unscathed."

Swallowing heavily, Cent reluctantly placed his hand upon the table, closing his eyes tightly in preparation for the excruciating pain to come. In one swift motion, I brought down the sharp blade, severing two of his fingers from their joints. A sharp intake of breath escaped him as he fought to suppress the agony, his eyes slowly opening to behold his maimed fingers.

"Get the hell off my property, Cent, and never set foot here again," I commanded, my tone laced with finality. He gave me a curt nod, his face etched with a mixture of pain and resignation, before turning and making his way out. As the door closed behind him, I reached up to scratch my jaw, a lingering sense of unease settling within me.

Leaning back in my seat, I fixed my gaze upon the plump flesh that lay on the table before me. It was a stark reminder that I couldn't trust my men when it came to her. She possessed a dangerous allure, fully aware of her captivating curves and unafraid to wield them to her advantage.

For now, I entrusted Badok with the task of keeping a watchful eye over her. Until I found someone who feared me enough not to cast inappropriate glances in her direction, he would be the guardian of her safety. Instructing one of my men to clean up the grisly aftermath, I retired to my room, my mind consumed with thoughts of the enigmatic woman who had ensnared my attention.

★★★★★★★

I was roused from my deep slumber by the distant sound of my ringtone. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I became aware of the hot sun streaming through the window, indicating that I had slept far longer than usual. It took me a moment to realize that Samantha was no longer beside me, her absence unnoticed in my slumber.

The phone continued to ring insistently, urging me to wake fully. I reached out, grasping the device and furrowing my brow at the name displayed on the screen. Clifford. Why was he calling me at such an early hour?

Clicking my tongue in mild annoyance, I decided to answer the call. Despite his foolish actions from the previous night, I wasn't one to shun those who willingly brought trouble to my doorstep. I embraced such challenges head-on and dealt with them accordingly.

"How can I assist you, Clifford?" I murmured, rising from the bed and making my way out onto the terrace, closing the door behind me to ensure privacy.

"Why are your men targeting Luke?" Clifford's voice carried a mixture of concern and accusation.

"Because it has been over a week, Clifford," I replied tersely, my frustration seeping into my tone. He fell silent, seemingly taken aback by the bluntness of my response. "Luke has been meeting with Officer Rico, potentially divulging sensitive information due to the incompetence of your men."

"Officer Rico?" he spat, the disdain evident in his voice. The longstanding feud between our family and Officer Rico had always been a contentious issue. His continued existence was solely due to his rank within the police force.

"Stay out of it," I firmly ordered, my tone brooking no argument. "My men will take care of Luke from this point onward."

"What?" he hissed in disbelief. "That is an insult to me. How do you think my men will perceive this?" His words held a hint of wounded pride. But I cared little for his concerns. "I will handle Luke, son. Do not dare to challenge me."

A chuckle escaped my lips at the audacity of his order. With a dismissive wave of my hand, I gazed out at Samantha, gracefully plucking roses in the distance. "It is you who should not challenge me, Clifford," I retorted, the confidence evident in my voice. "You may be my father, but that does not exempt you from the rules." I had grown tired of this conversation. "My men will handle Luke." With that, I abruptly ended the call.

Stepping into the hallway, I found myself face to face with Samantha, a basket of roses in her hands. She shot me a glare before indignantly stomping past, her destination the kitchen. A smile played at the corners of my lips at her feisty demeanor, and I followed in her footsteps.

"I didn't know you had an interest in gardening," I remarked casually, retrieving two bottles of water from the fridge. I extended one towards her, fully expecting to be ignored. "How was your night?" I inquired, attempting to engage in a conversation despite her obvious disapproval.

"What do you think?" she spat back, her tone laced with annoyance. The roses were arranged in a vase, the withered ones discarded. "You slept next to me, so you should already know the answer to that question."

"Of course I do," I replied, my smile unyielding as I met her gaze. "You cuddled me throughout the night."

"I did not!" she retorted, her glare intensifying. "I don't cuddle."

"Of course," I replied playfully, unable to contain my amusement. "But I found it rather endearing." She scrubbed her hands vigorously, clearly irritated by the possibility that I might be speaking the truth. "You're going to wash away your fingerprints."

"Ha! Very funny," she retorted, leaning against the kitchen cabinet. "Why is he here?"

"Who?" Karis entered the room, acknowledging me with a brief nod before continuing her culinary duties. Samantha and I left the kitchen, giving her the space she needed.

"The intimidating man that Cent replaced," Samantha clarified, a tinge of dislike evident in her voice. Badok. "What is he doing here? I can't stand him."

"Why do you hate him?" I asked, a flicker of jealousy surging within me—a sensation I wasn't accustomed to. "Is it because he is immune to your advances?" She rolled my eyes, inwardly mocking the irrationality of my own thoughts, the root of my warranted anger.

"He intimidates my Liam. I don't feel comfortable around him," she confessed.

That’s right, that’s the expected feeling. "You shouldn't allow yourself to feel comfortable around my men," I said firmly, emphasizing the words. "They are not your friends."

She flushed with anger. “Badok is going to be around you for a long time until I find a proper replacement, so you better deal with it.”

“Proper replacement?” Her eyes narrowed. "What happened to Cent?" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to engage in that conversation with her. I could sense her shock as the realization hit her. "Oh my God!" she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "You killed him, didn't you?!"

I sighed, frustration welling up within me. "I gave you my word that I wouldn't harm him. But keep mentioning his name, and I might reconsider that promise," I warned, closing my eyes briefly. How had this morning taken such a turn for the worse? I needed to focus on the present. "Cent is safe," I assured her, my voice laced with determination. "He's out there, working. Right now, I need—"

Before I could finish my sentence, the deafening sound of gunfire shattered the air, snapping me out of my thoughts. Without hesitation, I grabbed Samantha's hand, my mind shifting into survival mode. I swiftly took a gun from one of the guards nearby. Walking around without my weapon had been a rare exception, an attempt to avoid intimidating this woman. But now, I realized the folly of my decision as danger closed in on us.

"Boss!" Badok's urgent voice rang out as he burst into the living room. "We're under attack, and it seems they're after Samantha!"

The gravity of the situation struck me like a bolt of lightning. My instincts kicked into high gear, and I knew I had to protect her at all costs.