CHAPTER 4
1059 Words
THIRD POV
The sound that tore from her throat wasn’t just a gasp — it was shock, surrender, something she hadn’t meant to give him. Vin heard it, and a slow, dangerous smirk touched his mouth.
This wasn’t just a release for him.
A way to silence the things in his head he refused to face.
She clung to the sheets, breath stuttering.
“Ahhhhh…ohhhh”
Vin leaned close enough for his breath to brush her ear.
“Already?” he murmured, voice dark with amusement. “I haven’t even started.”
Her fingers trembled, but she didn’t pull away. She never did.
Not from him.
With practiced ease, he shifted her — pushing her leg to her ear and entered her.
The maid tried to steady her voice, but it broke anyway.
“Sir….ohhhhhhhh”
Vin’s eyes sharpened.
“Say it properly.”
She swallowed, spine arching under his grip.
“Sir… please….go……faster.”
That earned her a low, satisfied hum.
His thrust grew faster and harder.
The room filled with her breathless sounds, each one raw enough to make his jaw tense.
“You feel that?” he muttered against her neck, more a statement than a question.
“Yess… ahhhh” she moaned.
“Good.”
It wasn’t long before her voice cracked into something nearly frantic.
“OH….MY…GOD….SIRRRRR”
She grabbed at him, nails dragging down his back as he pushed into her closer and closer to the edge she was trying and failing to hold back.
She finally broke.
“Ahhhhhhhh…oh….my….god” squirting everywhere.
Her body shaking, voice shattering around his name.
The force of it made him pause, just long enough to watch her fall apart beneath him.
He kept going.
Placing her one leg on his shoulder.
Thrusting harder
Faster
“Ohhhhh…fuuuccckkk” she moaned louder.
By the time he reached his own limit, his breath was ragged, his muscles coiled tight.
He pulled away with a sharp exhale, steadying himself on the edge of the bed.
“Ohhh yes” He moaned.
The maid helped him without a word.
Taking his duck into her mouth and sucking it like a lollipop.
“Yhhhhh” he lifted his head.
She sucks harder and faster, the wettest making sounds.
Making him come again on her face.
“Ohhhhh…Yhhhh”
When it was done, he stepped into the shower and closed the glass door behind him. The water thundered down, steam rising like smoke around his silhouette.
By the time he emerged, hair damp, towel slung over his shoulders, the room was already spotless again — bed made, floor immaculate, not a trace of her left.
Just the way he preferred it.
RAPHELLA’S POV
My phone buzzed. Chloe: Did you survive? Do I need to send a rescue team (discreetly)?
I called her. She picked up on the first ring.
“Talk to me,” she said, her voice soft.
The whole story spilled out in a frustrated, guilty rush. “...and I just screamed at them. About the ghost of my dad. About being a prisoner. Chloe, I saw Vin’s face. It was like I stabbed him. But it’s the truth. And now I feel horrible, but I’m also still so, so angry.”
“Of course you are,” she said, her sympathy immediate. “They ambushed your sort-of-boyfriend and treated you like a fugitive. That’s messed up, Rafe. Even with the whole… mafia prince thing.”
A weak laugh escaped me. “Mafia princes. Yeah.”
I watched a security guard make his slow, methodical round along the perimeter wall.
“I’m grounded for life, basically. My birthday will be a state dinner with their associates. I’ll probably have to wear a tiara and a tracking anklet.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Chloe’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “So… don’t wait for your birthday.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, screw their timeline. There’s a party tonight. At that warehouse space near the docks. Jamie’s band is playing. It’s supposed to be insane. No guest list, no VIP, just a bunch of people and loud music.”
My heart gave a traitorous, hopeful thump. “Chloe, I can’t. After today? The gates are locked. Vin’s probably got sensors on my windows.”
“So? You’re Raphaella Scarlatti. You’ve spent your whole life in a fortress. You have to know a way out. The gardener’s gate by the old oak? The delivery entrance? The alarm code for the east wing your brother Gabe uses when he comes in late?”
I fell silent. I did know things.
“It’s too risky,” I breathed, but even I could hear the longing in my voice.
“Is it?” Chloe challenged gently. “Or is staying in that gilded room, letting them win this round, letting them prove they can control every second of your life until they marry you off to some appropriate mobster-lite… is that more risky?”
Her words were a spark on the dry tinder of my resentment. The guilty image of Vin’s pained face warred with the crushing weight of the future he was planning for me—a future of controlled interactions and “appropriate” suitors like the ones I’d overheard Luca discussing.
“Just for a few hours,” Chloe pressed. “We go, we dance, we breathe air they don’t filter. We prove to yourself that you can. I’ll pick you up a block away. No Ethan. Just us.”
Prove to yourself that you can.
That was it. That was the heart of it. It wasn’t just about a party. It was about a choice. My choice.
I took a deep, trembling breath, my eyes scanning the twilight-drenched grounds, no longer just a view, but a map of vulnerabilities my brothers had never realized I’d studied.
“Okay,” I whispered, the word feeling both terrifying and electric. “Okay. The old service road behind the greenhouse. Midnight. Text me when you’re close.”
“Yes!” Chloe hissed in triumph. “Wear something they’d hate.”
As I hung up, the guilt wasn’t gone, but it was drowned out by a pounding, defiant thrill. I wasn’t just railing against the walls. I was planning to climb over them.
- Writer
