My Mafia Bully Became My Stepbrother

Chapter 2: The Gilded Cage

POV: Elena

The front door was heavy, solid oak that groaned as it swung open.

"Welcome home," a deep voice echoed through the foyer.

Anthony Russo stood at the base of a sweeping staircase. He was older than I expected, with silver hair slicked back and a suit that was obviously expensive.

"Anthony!" Mom beamed, rushing over to him. She didn't hug him, she seemed too intimidated for that, but she took his hand like it was a lifeline.

"You look lovely, Martha," Anthony said, his eyes shifting to me. "And this must be Elena."

"Nice to meet you, sir," I whispered as I kept my eyes on his polished shoes, my fingers digging into the straps of my backpack.

"She’s just shy," Mom added quickly, her voice high and nervous. "It’s been a long day of moving."

Anthony nodded slowly. "Of course. Let’s get to the dining room. Dinner is served, and my son is already waiting."

My heart gave a violent thud against my ribs. I followed them down a hallway lined with dark oil paintings of men who looked like they’d never smiled in their lives.

The dining room was cavernous. A long mahogany table stretched across the room, topped with silver candelabras and enough cutlery to confuse me.

And there he was.

Dominic sat at the far end of the table, swirling a glass of dark liquid. He didn't look like the boy from high school anymore. The soft edges of a teenager were gone, replaced by a sharp, dangerous jawline and shoulders that strained against his black dress shirt.

"Dominic," Anthony said, taking his seat at the head of the table. "You remember Martha. And this is her daughter, Elena."

Dominic didn't stand up. He didn't even look at my mother. His gaze locked onto mine and stayed there. It felt like being pinned under a microscope.

"Elena," he said. His voice had dropped an octave since graduation. It was a low, smooth growl that made the hair on my arms stand up. "It’s been a long time."

"You two know each other?" Anthony asked, looking between us as a maid began placing plates of steak in front of us.

"We went to the same school," Dominic said, his lips curling into a shadow of a smirk. "I used to see her in the halls all the time. She was always... very quiet."

I sat down in the chair furthest from him, my hands shaking so badly I had to hide them in my lap. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

Dominic took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving my face. "How could I forget? You were hard to miss, Elena. Even when you were trying your best to disappear."

"Isn't that nice?" Mom chimed in, completely missing the predatory look in Dominic’s eyes. "A familiar face in a new place."

The dinner was an exercise in torture. My mother and Anthony talked about the wedding and the estate, their voices blurring into a hum of background noise. I couldn't eat. The scent of the expensive steak made my stomach churn.

Every time I looked up, Dominic was watching me. He didn't eat much either. He just sat there, radiating a cold, dark energy that seemed to shrink the room.

"Elena isn't eating," Dominic observed suddenly, breaking into the adults' conversation. "Is the food not to your liking? Or are you just overwhelmed by the change in scenery?"

"I'm just not very hungry," I said, my voice barely audible over the clink of silverware.

"You should eat," Anthony said, though he didn't look up from his plate. "We don't waste things in this house."

"I’ll make sure she finishes," Dominic said. The way he said it made a chill race down my spine. It wasn't an offer of help; it was a command.

After what felt like hours, Anthony stood up. "I have some calls to take in my study. Martha, why don't you come with me? We need to discuss the guest list for the gala."

"Of course, dear," Mom said, standing up and smoothing her dress. She looked at me and mouthed be nice before following Anthony out of the room.

The heavy doors clicked shut, leaving me alone with him.

The silence was immediate and suffocating. Dominic set his glass down with a deliberate clack and stood up. He walked with a slow, predatory grace around the table.

I gripped the edge of my seat, my knuckles turning white. I wanted to run, but my legs felt like they were made of lead.

He stopped right behind my chair. I could feel the heat radiating off him. I could smell his cologne, something expensive, spicy, and dark. He leaned down, his face inches from mine. "Did you miss me, Mouse?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Don't call me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want," he whispered. His breath hitched near my ear, sent a shiver of pure terror through me. "You’re in my world now. No teachers to hide behind. No counselors to cry to. Just me and you, living under the same roof."

"I'm your sister now," I bit out, though my voice trembled.

Dominic laughed, a low, dry sound that had no humor in it. He reached out, his fingers grazing the back of my neck. I flinched, but he didn't let go. His hand was large, his skin calloused and hot.

"Stepsister," he corrected, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And don't get confused, Elena. That title doesn't protect you. It just means I don't have to go far to find you."

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing my earlobe. "I told you in high school I wasn't finished with you, I always keep my word."

He pulled away abruptly, leaving my skin cold where he’d touched me. He headed for the door without another word, but stopped with his hand on the handle.

"Welcome home, Elena," he said, looking back over his shoulder. "Try to get some sleep. You look like you're waiting for the floor to open up and swallow you."