Kiss Me Mr. Mafia

Chapter 4: Trapped With Him

Crizza's POV 4

I slowly opened my eyes, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the heavy curtains, and looked around — only to find the room empty except for me lying in the middle of the large, king-sized bed. This was the same room I remembered being in last time, quiet but feeling strangely confining.

I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to recall what had happened — from the moment I stood on the terrace threatening to jump, though I never truly meant it. There was no way I would end my life just because he was keeping me here. Then Rusco came, promising he would let me go… but before I could react, he drugged me and gave chase.

Panic rising, I immediately jumped out of bed, my bare feet touching the cool floor, and ran toward the door, hoping it would be unlocked.

“Please let it be open,” I prayed softly. But as soon as I tried the handle, it didn’t budge — my hope died instantly.

I rushed to the tall windows and the terrace next, shaking them hard, but everything was locked tight. With all my hopes shattered, I ran back to the door and banged on it with both hands.

“Rusco! I know you can hear me — or see me somehow. I don’t care! Open the door!”

The lock clicked and the door swung open suddenly. There stood Rusco, looking completely unbothered, as if my shouting didn’t faze him at all. He walked past me, the faint scent of his expensive cologne trailing behind him, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“This is kidnapping!” I shouted, my voice sharp with frustration.

He just looked at me as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

“I know,” he replied calmly. “I’m here to explain why you’re here and what you need to do while you’re with me.”

I stood firmly in front of him and smiled sarcastically. “Right. I’m here because of my father’s debt.” I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to look away.

“You know what? I don’t even care about your father’s debt anymore. All I need is for you to behave.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a neat sheet of paper clearly labeled Rules.

Rule 1: Never ask unnecessary questions.

Rule 2: Never provoke Party A.

“Party A?” I asked, holding the paper up to read it better.

“I am Party A, and you will be Party B.”

I kept reading through his ridiculous rules, my lips twitching in amusement. Huh — rules, my foot.

Rule 3: Party A must stay close to Party B at all times, for security purposes.

A small smirk tugged at my mouth. Perfect. I quickly shifted and sat down right next to him on the bed — close enough that our shoulders almost touched — and it clearly confused him.

“Stay away from me, or do I need to remind you of the second —”

“Party A must stay close to Party B at all times, for security purposes,” I cut him off, reading the rule out loud with emphasis.

He sighed deeply, his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep his temper in check. I smiled inwardly, pleased to have already found a loophole.

Rule 4: Party A must always obey whatever Party B tells them to do.

Rule 5: If Party B attempts to escape, Party A reserves the right to take action and impose punishment.

“Punishments? Oh, how scary,” I said, sounding as if it truly frightened me — then broke into a playful grin.

He handed me a pen, and I signed the paper immediately without hesitation. I flipped it over to check if there was more fine print, but there was nothing else. I rolled my eyes and handed it back to him.

“Look at you. You’ve got such a sharp tongue, and those kissable lips too — yet you can’t even make proper rules?” I shook my head in disbelief. I expected pages of strict restrictions, but only five? He didn’t even specify what kind of punishment I’d face if I tried to escape.

“Is that so?” He stood up, towering over me, but I didn’t step back an inch. “Let me make a bet… I only gave you five rules, but I’m certain you won’t be able to follow them until I decide it’s time for you to leave.”

He was right. I wouldn’t make things easy for him. I’d make him realize that kidnapping me would be the biggest regret of his entire life.

“Obey them properly, and I’ll let you go sooner than you think.”

I stayed where I stood and tilted my head up to meet his gaze directly. He presented rules that anyone would find simple, but he knew me better than that. Of course he only listed five — the ones he knew I’d never follow.

“I’ll prove you wrong.”

He just smirked, that familiar challenging glint in his eyes, and walked toward the door. “I’ll be in my office. Helen will bring your breakfast shortly.”

Before he could get far, I ran after him and wrapped my arms tightly around his torso, pressing myself against his back. If he wanted to play games, I’d play right along. I smiled to myself.

“What now?” he asked, clearly irritated by my sudden hold.

“Rule number three, Rusco.”

His gray eyes darkened instantly, and his jaw tightened noticeably.

“Stay away from me, or else —”

I pulled away instantly and started running down the hallway, my footsteps quick and light. I heard him follow, his voice ringing out sharply behind me.

“Rule five, Crizza. If you try to escape again, I will punish you — and you will regret it.”

I kept turning corners, but this house felt like a maze — long hallways, matching doors, no clear end in sight.

“This isn’t escaping! It’s rule four — obeying whatever Party B says!”

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around my waist, stopping me in my tracks. I knew exactly who it was. He turned me around and slammed me gently but firmly against the wall; I hissed softly as my back made contact. He was going to pay for that later.

“I said stay away — not run away!”

He was insane. How was there any difference?

“Care to explain what the difference is?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He fell silent for a moment, searching for words.

“Come on, Rusco — I’m trying to follow the rules.”

We both knew I wasn’t exactly obeying them. Following orders had never been part of my vocabulary.

He pulled me closer and rested one hand on my back. His fingers moved slowly up my spine, tracing lightly in a motion that felt almost like a massage — and I had to admit, it eased the slight ache from hitting the wall.

“Come with me to my office,” he said, his voice now calm and steady.

He laced his fingers through mine, his grip firm but not painful, and as we walked through the seemingly endless hallways, I realized one thing: if I stayed cooped up in my room, I’d never stand a chance of escaping him.

We reached a staircase leading down to the ground floor and entered through a massive set of doors into his office. The room smelled of polished rich wood, mixed with his sharp cologne and the cool, steady hum of the air conditioner.

“I’ll be working. You can do whatever you want inside here — just never leave my sight.”

I nodded, and he let go of my hand. He sat behind his large desk and quickly got busy with the thick stack of papers waiting for him.

I settled on the soft leather sofa facing his desk, and out of boredom, I found myself just staring at him. At first glance, no one would guess that such a handsome, composed man was the most feared mafia boss in all of Italy. He was perfect in every way — sharp, focused, and undeniably commanding.

He was also extremely intelligent — so I needed to plan my escape carefully and stay one step ahead.

“Can I have steak brought here? I’m hungry,” I said casually.

He pressed the intercom on his desk and gave instructions to the kitchen. A few moments later, Helen arrived carrying a silver tray with a sizzling steak and polished cutlery. She set it down beside me, and I thanked her with a small smile.

Just as I expected, I now had what I needed: a sturdy metal fork.

“Let’s eat together.” I picked up the tray and brought it over to his desk, then started eating. I speared a juicy piece of steak with the fork and held it out to him, but he ignored it completely, keeping his eyes on his work.

I knew he would. So I stood up and brought the fork right up to his mouth — still, he didn’t even glance at it.

“It tastes really good. Why don’t you just take one bite?” I tried again, my tone light, like a mother coaxing a stubborn child to eat.

I stayed standing there, holding the fork, then walked around behind him and leaned down, whispering close to his ear so only he could hear:

“You can bite me if you want… or I could just stab you with this instead.”

In an instant, Rusco grabbed my wrist in a firm grip, and the fork clattered loudly onto the smooth marble floor.

Before I could pull away, he shifted and pulled me down firmly onto his lap, holding my shoulders just tight enough to keep me from wriggling free.

“Clever move,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face with surprising gentleness.

“Just testing how sharp your reflexes are,” I replied. I rested my hand lightly on his jaw and traced the clean lines of his face, surprised by how soft his skin felt beneath my fingertips.

“Crizza,” he said my name, almost as if pleading. I had no idea what he was begging for — maybe for me to stop defying him.

“Hmm?” I hummed softly, tilting my head.

His eyes drifted down to my lips for a heartbeat, then quickly snapped back up to lock onto mine — dark, intense, and unreadable.

“You can fight me all you want, Crizza. But remember this… in my world, those who disobey and defy me don’t get second chances — especially not once I’ve reached my limit.”