Kiss Me Mr. Mafia

Chapter 2: Failed Escape

Crizza's POV

I was scared and furious, but I refused to let him see even a hint of fear. If he knew I was afraid, he would definitely use it against me.

And this man? He looked like the type who wouldn’t just walk over you; he’d crush you entirely if it suited him.

"Let me go, you madman!" I yelled, pounding my fist against the leather seat between us.

But he stayed calm, his attention fixed on his laptop. It was infuriating how unbothered he seemed.

"Who on earth accepts a human as collateral for a debt?" I snapped, leaning forward to glare at him.

Still no response. Who does he think he is? He might be a Mafia boss, feared by everyone but I won’t crumble just because he’s keeping.

Before I could think better of it, I shoved his laptop hard enough for it to slip off his lap and fall onto the car floor with a heavy thud.

The screen went black instantly from the impact, the glass faintly cracking down the center.

Great, a tiny voice in my head giggled, half nervous, half triumphant. That’ll teach him to ignore me.

He turned to look at me slowly. His jaw clenched tight. His grey eyes,

darkened with a flash of irritation.

"Oh, don’t make that face. It ruins your calm aura and your so-called natural beauty," I said, tilting my head.

I watched his knuckles turn white as he gripped the armrest beside him. Finally, I had his full attention.

"Listen, woman. If you want to throw a tantrum, blame your stupid father," he said, his voice low and clipped.

"You think so?" I asked sarcastically, my voice rising. "I am a human being, not some piece of property you can buy."

I pointed a finger straight at his chest and rolled my eyes, daring him to argue.

I know it’s my father’s fault, I knew that better than anyone. But this? This was a whole new low.

Still, this man could have said no. He can have anything he wants, just not me.

If he hadn't agreed to my father’s deal, I’d be gone by now. I’d be wandering the city, finding a cheap place to sleep, applying for jobs first thing tomorrow morning, and starting over somewhere.

"Point another finger at me and I’ll throw you out the window," he warned, his tone deadly serious.

I smiled, and pointed another finger right at his face, close enough to almost touch his skin.

I’d rather be bruised, bleeding, and thrown out onto the pavement than stay trapped in this car with this lunatic.

"I dare you," I challenged, keeping the smile fixed on my face to show I wasn't scared of his threats.

"Stop the car," he ordered, his voice calm again, like he hadn’t just threatened my life.

The vehicle slowed down and halted immediately. I didn’t expect him to be foolish enough to actually let me go.

The driver got out first, dressed in a sharp black suit, and opened the back door for me. He stood straight and still like a statue.

I looked at Rusco one last time, searching for any sign of a trick, before stepping out into the cool night air. Is this really happening?

Cold metal clamped sharply around my wrists before I could take a second step.

I looked down and my eyes widened—handcuffs. One cuff was locked tight around my right wrist, the other held firmly in the large, strong hand of this man.

He stepped out right behind me, towering over me, his presence heavy and suffocating.

"I don't want to repeat myself," he said, his voice flat and unyielding. "Either you obey me, or I’ll hand you over to those men."

He pointed with his free hand to a group of men loitering in the shadow of a nearby alley, leaning against the brick walls.

They looked terrifying. Piercings covering their faces. They were the kind of people you crossed the street to avoid.

They didn't look like they knew him. So a wild, desperate idea sparked in my mind.

"Help me! Please, someone help me!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, straining against the cuffs.

Every head turned toward us.

They all stood up straight and pulled something from behind their backs. My blood ran cold.

Guns.

I was right—they didn't know him at all. And now, I had just started a war.

Rusco yanked my arm hard, pulling me close against his side. He grew alert, his body tense as the men surrounded us.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his voice sharp with genuine anger.

I ignored him and struggled harder. "Help me! He’s going to kill me!" I screamed again, my voice cracking this time.

One of the men didn’t wait. He lifted his gun and fired straight at Rusco.

But Rusco moved faster than I could follow. He dodged easily, dragging me along with him behind the cover of the car door.

"Fire back," Rusco commanded, calm as ever.

The driver stepped out from the front, gun already drawn, and started shooting back at the gang. Bullets flew everywhere, past our heads and hitting the walls around us.

I didn't know if the men in the alley were still alive, but there were so many of them. Surely they could kill just the two of them?

"Just let me go," I pleaded, breathless, still trying to break free from his grip.

He leaned down close to my ear, his voice low and dark. "I’ll die first before you ever get away."

He stood up briefly and fired toward the alley, hitting his target without even seeming to aim.

Oh God, please help me, I prayed silently, squeezing my eyes shut for a second.

Minutes later, the chaos died down. Rusco opened the back door again and pushed me inside, sliding in right after me. The driver got in quickly and started the engine.

I looked them over in shock. The driver’s shirt was spotless ok. Neither was Rusco hurt.

"I see... you’re disappointed," Rusco mocked, leaning back against the seat and brushing off his sleeve like nothing happened.

I was. I was disappointed they didn't die right there.

The car sped away, leaving the chaos and shouting far behind us.

I really thought those men were going to help me. I guess they weren't as tough as they looked.

Anger surged through me again, hot and wild. I punched his chest with my free hand and slapped him across the face, not caring if I actually hurt him.

"You’re a devil. You—"

He caught my wrist, holding it firmly but not painfully, until I stopped moving.

I breathed heavily, chest heaving, overwhelmed by rage.

I stared straight into his grey eyes, furious. Then suddenly, he smiled—not a friendly smile, but a devilish, knowing one.

For a second, my breath hitched. But I wasn't giving up.

"Your father never mentioned you had such an attitude," he said, his voice low and smooth.

He pushed me back into my seat and unlocked the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists—they were red and swollen. This would definitely stay for days.

"See this?" He turned his phone screen toward me.

My jaw dropped. I grabbed the phone from him, and surprisingly, he let me take it.

I scrolled through dozens of pictures—all of me.

Taken secretly. Me studying in the university library. Walking home with Mavies. Sleeping at my desk in my room.

He had been following my every move. For how long?

"Your father made a huge mistake mentioning you to me," he said, watching my face closely. "He kept borrowing money, saying he had something I’d value as collateral."

The realization hit me harder than lightning.

My own father had given me away to settle his debts. The man I thought would protect me had sold me like I was nothing.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, trembling despite myself.

"Stefano Rusco, leader of the Italian Mafia," the driver answered for him. "You should be thankful, Miss Illazar. Anyone else who did what you did earlier would be lying dead on the street by now."

Thankful?

They kidnapped me, treated me like property, and now they expect gratitude? They were both completely insane.

But I wasn't scared. I lifted my chin and stared right back at him. He might be the most intimidating, feared man alive, but not to me.

A sly, reckless idea took over. I smiled and reached for his face. I held it firmly between my hands, tracing his features slowly—his sharp nose, soft lips, perfect cheekbones.

He went completely still, watching every movement of my hand, his eyes darkening.

"Look at you... frozen like a statue," I whispered, leaning closer.

My words snapped him back instantly. He grabbed my hand to stop me, and I smirked.

"Be quiet before I decide to tie you up properly," he warned, his voice rough.

He let go and straightened his posture, trying to regain his cold composure.

Well, well. He was definitely affected by what I did. Now I knew how to fight him without using force.

"If you think that’ll work on me, you’re wrong," he said seriously.

"Oh really? Let me try again." I reached out to touch his chest, slow and deliberate.

He caught my wrist again before I could make contact.

"Don’t test my patience, Crizza." His voice was low, dangerous.

Hearing my name from his lips felt different. I hated to admit it, but I didn't like how it sounded coming from him.

"What if I do it anyway?" I challenged, crossing my arms.

He turned fully to me and looked deep into my eyes, like he was seeing straight through to my soul.

"You know exactly the answer, Crizza Illazar..." He paused. "What can you possibly do against me? I can do whatever I want with you."

He took his phone back and showed me the pictures again.

"These were taken since your first year at university, right after your mother died."

One photo showed me carrying a stack of books, looking a total mess—dark circles under my eyes, skin pale from lack of sleep and food.

He pulled me toward him suddenly, and I grabbed his collar to keep from falling into his lap.

He leaned down, and I could feel his warm breath against my face, mixing with the scent of expensive cologne and danger.

"I’ve had my eyes on you long before you even knew I existed, Crizza," he whispered.

For a split second, his lips brushed lightly against my cheek—soft, warm, and far too dangerous.

My breath hitched, skin burning where his lips had grazed me. I

"Don’t touch me," I spat, voice trembling slightly.

He only smiled wider, that infuriating, knowing smile that made me want to punch him again.

"You can deny it all you want, Crizza, but your heart’s beating fast enough for both of us." He leaned back, looking far too pleased with himself.

I wouldn’t let him see how much he got under my skin. Not now, not ever.

"I don’t care how long you’ve watched me," I said sharply, my voice steady and clear. "You don’t own me. And you never will."

His grey eyes darkened, turning stormy and intense. His voice dropped low and dangerous.

"We’ll see about that, cara. We’ll see."

The car turned onto a wide, tree-lined road I recognized as the entrance to the city’s most exclusive, gated district.

I looked out the window at the tall iron gates and grand houses passing by. Whatever was waiting for me at the end of this ride, I knew one thing for sure: this was only the beginning.

And I wasn't going to make it easy for him. Not even a little bit.