Kidnapped by big bad Mafia boss

Anne Anne wakes up slowly, her body is heavy and unfamiliar with the softness beneath her — a thick mattress, crisp white sheets and a warm, silky nightgown that brushes her skin. The room is spacious, dimly lit by a flickering fireplace, walls lined with dark wood and heavy curtains drawn. Confused, she sat up, the cool floor beneath her bare feet grounding her as she stood and moved towards the heavy wooden door, her fingers searching the handle - locked, unyielding. Panic rises, she turns to the window, the curtains are slightly parted, and the moonlight spills out onto the stone ledge. She quietly crawls up, heart pounding, desperate for freedom — when a calm voice cuts through the silence, and before she can react, strong hands grab her waist and pull her back. His breath is warm on her neck, the scent sharp — leather, musk and something dangerously intoxicating — as he whispers :"Are you running away so fast, little dove?" She gets scared and screams when she feels someone grab her waist and pull her back. Her scream tears through the raw stillness, instinctive terror — and his grip tightens instantly, pulling her flush against the hard planes of his chest. One arm bands across your waist like an iron, the other hand slides up to cover her mouth, not roughly, but firm enough to muffle the sound. His breath is hot against her ear, his voice dropping to that dangerous, silk-over-steel tone that makes her spine lock up. Jay "Shh... breathe, little dove." The command is soft but absolute, his fingers pressing just enough against her lips to remind her, he controls even this. "Screaming won't help you. There's no one out here to hear." He turns her slowly, deliberately, until her back hits the cold stone wall beside the window. Moonlight cuts across his face—those ice-blue eyes studying her with predatory focus, cataloging every hitched breath. His hand drops from her mouth to her throat, not squeezing, just resting there, his thumb stroking the frantic pulse beneath her skin. "You really thought you could leave?" There is something almost wounded beneath the steel in his voice, a flicker of dark obsession that makes her stomach twist. "After everything I’ve done to bring you here? To keep you safe?" His other hand remains locked around her waist, holding you against him, and she can feel the controlled power in every inch of his body — the way he could break you, but chooses this careful restraint instead. His scent surrounds you: something expensive and dangerous that shouldn't be comforting but somehow is. "You're mine now, sugar. The sooner you accept that, the easier this becomes." Anne I freeze when I hear his voice and feel his hands on my mouth. When he said, "Screaming won't help you," I went into panic. The feeling of being helpless and unable to do anything washes over my body. I could feel his hands on my body and his eyes looking at me as if I were his prey. I couldn't understand what he meant by everything he did to get me here and get me safe. I don't feel safe with him. You could feel throughout the room that I was facing a man who had power and was dangerous. But when he said, "You're mine now, sugar. The sooner you accept that, the easier this becomes." I could feel my pulse increase and a chill run down my spine. I have never been so scared in my life, but at the same time, I also felt safe in his presence. In a panic, My hands slam against his chest — desperate, panicked — but it's like pushing against a stone. For a moment, I thought I could escape, but then his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist. Jay I didn't budge, didn't even flinch, just watched her with those pale blue eyes that cut through the darkness like blades. For a heartbeat, I let her try, let her feel the futility of it, before my patience snaps. The moment she twists to run, my hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her wrist with bruising precision. I yank her back hard enough that she stumbles, and suddenly I spin her around, her chest pressed flat against the cold wall. My body cages her in from behind, one hand pinning both of her wrists above her head while the other splays possessively across her stomach, holding her immobile. "That," I growled low against her ear, voice dropping into something dark and dangerous, "was f*ck*ng stupid, sugar." My grip tightens, deliberate pressure that makes her gasp, and when I speak again, there's a sharp edge of warning threaded through the silk. "Run from me again, and I’ll make sure you can't walk for days. Do you understand?" His hand slid from her stomach to her hip, fingers digging possessively, and she felt him lean in closer, his stubble jaw scraping against her temple. Despite the threat, despite the fear coursing through you, there is something else — something the way he holds you, like you're both precious and his to break. "Answer me, little dove." Anne When i could feel he held me up against the cold wall. I got very scared, I could feel every inch of him pressed against my back — the hard muscle, the controlled strength, the heat radiating through his clothes. His breath ghosts over my neck. When he said, "Run from me again, and I’ll make sure you can't walk for days. Do you understand?" My heart started beating even faster. I felt him lean in closer, his stubble jaw scraping against my temple. Despite the threat, despite the fear coursing through me, there is something else — something the way he holds me, like you're both precious and his to break. I really didn't want to say it, but I was too scared not to say it, so I said, "Yes, I understand," with clenched teeth. Jay The moment those scary words, "Yes, I understand," leave your lips — something shifts in me. The tension in my body eases just slightly, though my grip remains firm, possessive. I exhale slowly against her neck and say, "Good girl," I murmur, my voice dropping into something softer, warmer, though still edged with that underlying dominance. My thumb strokes once over the racing pulse in her wrist, a small reward for her compliance. Slowly, deliberately, I released her wrists and turned her to face me again. My hands move to cup her face, tilting her chin up so she has no choice but to meet those piercing ice-blue eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, little dove," I say quietly, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones with surprising gentleness. "But I will if your force my hand. You're safe here. With me. Nowhere else." My gaze searches hers, reading every flicker of fear, every tremor. One hand slides down to rest against her throat again, not threatening, just... claiming. Reminding her who holds all the power here. "You're shaking." It's an observation, not a question. My other hands find her waist, steadying her against me. "Come. You need rest." Anne I could feel him relax a little more after I said, "Yes, I understand," when he said, "Good girl," I could feel the anger rising inside me, but I didn't dare act on it. I hated the way he rubbed my throat and face. I could feel the ghost of his lips brush my skin, almost tender despite the violence that was there seconds ago. When he said, "I don't want to hurt you, little dove. But I will if you force my hand. You're safe here. With me. Nowhere else." The thought that he would hurt me if I didn't do as he said terrified me, but I refused to obey him. In the dim firelight, I could see the intensity there — obsession, possession, something that might be affection if it weren't so all-consuming, when he said, "You're shaking. Come. You need rest." I looked at him in his eyes and asked curiously, "Who are you?"