Twisted

Seduction

The Don’s mansion was a palace built on blood, but to the world, it was the pinnacle of high society.

The day he brought me through the massive wrought-iron gates, Contessa was waiting in the marble foyer. She wore a tailored silk dress, her triple-strand pearl necklace gleaming against her skin. Her face twisted in pure disgust the second her eyes landed on my worn shoes and frayed jacket.

"What is this, Richard?" Contessa snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You brought a street rat into my home?"

"She’s an orphan, Contessa. A charity project," the Don said smoothly, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder. "The press will love it. Treat her like family."

"Family?" Contessa sneered, stepping close to me. She smelled like expensive rose perfume and bitter vanity. "She looks dirty. She looks like low-class trash. Get her out of my sight before she ruins the furniture."

I didn't cry. I didn't cower. The moment the Don turned his back to take a phone call, I looked Contessa straight in the eyes, tilted my head, and let out a soft, unhinged giggle that made her freeze.

"You have pretty pearls, Mother," I whispered, stepping uncomfortably close to her, my green eyes wide and totally unblinking. "It would be a shame if someone snapped the string while you were sleeping."

Contessa gasped, taking a sharp step back, her chest heaving in shock. "You little psycho..."

Before she could finish, the Don walked back into the hall. Instantly, I dropped my gaze, squeezed my hands together, and let my lower lip tremble like a terrified, sweet little girl.

"I'll be very good, sir," I whimpered softly to the Don, looking up at him with glossy eyes. "I'll do all my chores. I just want to make you proud."

The Don patted my head, thoroughly pleased with my docility. "Good girl, Dahlia. You see, Contessa? Perfect manners."

Contessa glared at me with pure venom, but she couldn't say a word.

Living in the house was a war of nerves. Marco, the second born, made it his personal mission to bully me. He tripped me in the grand hallways, knocked my books into the dirt, and called me a filthy charity case every chance he got. Darius, the eldest, remained cold and distant. He treated me like a strange house pet, indulgent when I was quiet, but always watching me with heavy, sharp blue eyes as if trying to figure out what was wrong with my head.

Only Nico was different.

Nico was two years younger than me. He had soft blond hair, sweet brown eyes, and a heart far too fragile for a family of monsters. While Marco threw insults, Nico would secretly leave sweet chocolates on my desk. While Contessa tried to have the servants starve me out, Nico would sneak extra fruit and warm bread to my bedroom after midnight.

He developed a crush on me almost immediately. It was innocent, soft, and utterly pathetic.

I decided right then that Nico would be my first target.

---

Ten years passed in that gilded cage.

Now, I was twenty-two, and Nico was twenty. Contessa had grown more vicious over the years, escalating her cruelty, publicly humiliating me at family dinners and spreading rumors that I was nothing more than a glorified servant. But while she wasted her energy glaring at me from across the table, I was quietly sharpening my blade.

It was time to ruin her favorite son.

Nico was innocent, easily manipulated, and completely mesmerized by me. Seducing him didn't require force; it required a slow, poison drip of temptation.

It started on a humid Tuesday evening. I knew Nico always passed by the third-floor master bathroom after his late-night boxing lessons. I left the carved oak door propped open just two inches, allowing the warm, vanilla-scented steam from my bath to billow out into the dark hallway.

I sat in the deep porcelain tub, the milky water coming up just below my breasts. I didn't hide. I waited until I heard his steady footsteps stop outside the door.

"Dahlia?" Nico’s voice carried through the crack, hesitant and soft. "Are you in there? I brought the books you asked for..."

"Nico?" I called out, my voice dripping with honeyed distress. "Oh, goodness... could you hand me the towel from the rack near the door? I forgot it, and the floor is freezing."

"I, I shouldn't," he stammered, his shadow blocking the strip of light. "You're... you're bathing, Dahlia."

"Please, Nico?" I purred, letting a small, wet splash echo through the room. "It's just you. I trust you more than anyone in this house."

The door creaked open. Nico stepped inside, holding a plush white towel, his eyes glued firmly to the marble tiles on the floor. His cheeks were burning a dark, furious red. He reached his hand out blindly, offering the towel without looking up.

I didn't take it. Instead, I leaned over the edge of the tub, letting the wet hair fall over my bare shoulders, ensuring he could see the curve of my neck and the damp skin of my chest.

"Nico," I whispered softly. "Look at me."

He couldn't help himself. He raised his brown eyes, and the moment he saw me sitting in the water, his breath hitched hard in his throat. His knuckles turned white around the towel.

"You're... you're so beautiful, Dahlia," he swallowed hard, his voice trembling like a child caught stealing candy.

"Do you really think so?" I asked, reaching out with a wet hand to touch his wrist. He flinched, but he didn't pull away. I dragged my damp fingertips slowly up his forearm, feeling his pulse skyrocket under his skin. "You're the only one who is ever nice to me in this awful house. Marco is so mean. Contessa hates me. But you... you always protect me."

"I will," Nico blurted out, stepping closer to the tub, entirely entranced. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I swear it."

"Then stay with me for a minute," I whispered, tilting my head back, letting a drop of water trail down my throat. "Just stand there and talk to me. I feel so lonely."

That night, he stayed. He sat on the edge of the bath stool, completely captive, watching me dry myself behind a thin silk robe, his eyes tracking every move I made like a starving dog waiting for scraps.

Over the next three weeks, I tightened the leash.

I would "accidentally" brush my thigh against his under the dinner table while Contessa was screaming at the staff. I would walk into his private study late at night wearing thin cotton nightgowns, leaning over his shoulder to read his accounting homework, letting my breasts graze his back until he couldn't concentrate on a single line of text. I made him feel like a knight saving a princess, all while wrapping my fingers around his neck.