Accidentally Kidnapping The Mafia Boss

13

KATHERINE

Sleep finally came, but it wasn’t the kind that rested me. It was heavy, restless, the kind where shadows clawed at the edges, and voices whispered things I didn’t want to hear.

When I woke up, it wasn’t because of the sun. Christophe was already up, standing with his back to me.

His broad shoulders tensed beneath the bloodstained shirt, his body a wall between me and the rest of the world.

For a moment, I just watched him. The way the morning light broke through the trees and touched the sharp lines of his face.

The way he stood, every muscle coiled, like he was preparing for a war that never ended.

And maybe that was exactly what his life was, one endless war.

When he turned, his eyes caught mine instantly, sharp and assessing. Not soft. Never soft. But something flickered there before he smothered it, like he didn’t want me to see.

“You’re awake,” he said. His voice was rough, still low from sleep.

I pushed myself up, brushing dirt and pine needles from my clothes.

“You didn’t sleep.”

His mouth twitched. “I don’t have the luxury.”

I wanted to say more, to argue that he wasn’t invincible, that his body was already breaking under the weight he carried.

But the words died on my tongue when he crouched in front of me, close enough that the space between us shrank into nothing.

“You need to eat,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.”

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my chin with a gentleness that didn’t match the steel in his eyes. “Don’t test me, Katherine. You think I won’t force you?”

A shiver ran through me, not from fear, but from the way he said it. From the way his control pressed down on me like a physical thing.

“You can’t control everything,” I whispered.

His thumb brushed across my jaw, slow and deliberate. “But I can control you.”

The air thickened. My heart pounded so hard it hurt, but I didn’t look away. Maybe I should’ve.

Maybe that would’ve been safer. But safety had stopped existing the moment Christophe dragged me into his world.

Instead, I let him look at me like he owned me. Like I was already his.

And maybe, in some twisted way, I was.

He let go suddenly, rising to his full height. “We can’t stay here. They’ll be looking.”

“Who?” I asked, even though the answer pressed heavy in my chest.

“Everyone.” His gaze cut to the trees. “My enemies. My own men. Doesn’t matter. They’ll want me dead, and they’ll want you worse.”

“Me?” My voice cracked on the word.

He turned back, eyes locking on mine with brutal honesty. “Because you’re mine.”

The words slammed into me, too heavy, too final.

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are,” he snapped, stepping closer, close enough that his shadow swallowed mine.

“Whether you hate me, whether you fight me, it doesn’t matter. You belong to me now. And I’ll burn the whole f*****g world to keep you.”

The raw conviction in his voice made my stomach twist. I should’ve been terrified. I should’ve screamed, run, or anything.

But the part of me that had tasted his touch last night, that had leaned into his darkness instead of pulling away… that part of me whispered something dangerous.

Maybe I wanted to belong to him.

Even if it meant losing myself.

Christophe must’ve seen something in my eyes, because his expression softened, just barely. He lifted his hand again, not rough this time, but almost hesitant.

His fingers brushed the side of my neck, tracing the frantic pulse there.

“You feel it too,” he murmured.

My breath caught.

Before I could answer, he leaned down, his lips so close I swore I could taste the promise of him. The world stilled the trees, the wind, even my heartbeat.

And then his mouth crashed against mine.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn't careful. It was raw, consuming, like he was trying to devour every protest I’d ever had. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

I should’ve pushed him away. I should’ve screamed at him for taking when I hadn’t given. But my hands betrayed me, clutching at his shirt, holding him there, needing him closer.

The kiss deepened, rough and desperate, like he was staking a claim no one could erase. His teeth grazed my lip, a sharp sting that sent fire racing through me.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged, he whispered the words that undid me.

“I told you, Katherine. You’re mine.”

And God help me… I didn’t deny it.

His lips lingered on mine for a beat too long, like he wasn’t ready to let me go. When he finally pulled back, the silence that followed was deafening.

I sat frozen, my chest heaving, my fingers still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. My mouth burned where he had kissed me bruised, swollen, claimed.

Christophe’s eyes searched mine, sharp and dark, like he was reading every thought I was too afraid to say out loud.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” I whispered back, though my whole body betrayed me, trembling in a way I couldn’t stop.

A smirk curved his mouth, dangerous and knowing. “You’re lying. You’re always lying to yourself when it comes to me.”

Heat flooded my face. I wanted to argue, to throw his words back at him, but the truth pressed heavy on my tongue. He wasn’t wrong.

I had spent days telling myself I hated him. That he was my captor, my enemy, the man who had ripped apart my world. And yet here I was, craving the taste of him like it was the only thing keeping me alive.

I hated him.

But God, I wanted him.

Christophe must’ve seen the war written all over me, because he leaned in again, his breath brushing the shell of my ear.

“Fight me all you want, Katherine,” he whispered, low and sinful. “But when I touch you… when I kiss you… your body tells the truth.”

A shiver shot down my spine, my thighs pressing together instinctively. I hated that he noticed. His gaze dropped, slow and deliberate, to the way I fidgeted under him, and his smirk deepened.

“You feel it too,” he said. “Don’t you?”

I swallowed hard, forcing the word out even though it cut me. “No.”

His laugh was dark, humorless. “Liar.”

Before I could answer, his hand slid to the back of my neck again, firm but not cruel, grounding me in place. He tilted my head back just enough so I had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“I told you before,” he said, voice a low growl. “You belong to me. And I’ll make you admit it… one way or another.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I wanted to pull away, to push him off me, but the way he held me controlled, yet careful kept me rooted.

I didn’t know if I was more terrified of him… or of myself.

He kissed me again, slower this time. Not the violent claim from before, but something deeper.

Something that felt like it stripped away the walls I had built. His lips moved against mine with purpose, coaxing instead of demanding, though the possession in it still burned.

My chest ached with every second of it, torn between the urge to surrender and the desperate need to resist.

When his tongue slid against mine, my breath caught. The world tilted. My hands, traitorous and weak, fisted tighter into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

His low groan rumbled against my mouth, and it was the most dangerous sound I had ever heard. It wasn’t just desire. It was hunger. It was an obsession.

And it was directed entirely at me.

He broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, like even he hadn’t meant to lose control that way. His forehead rested against mine, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breathing.

“You undo me,” he said, almost to himself.

I blinked, dazed, lips tingling. “What?”

His eyes burned into mine. “You. You make me weak. And I f*****g hate it.”

The words cut deep, sharp and raw. But before I could decide if I wanted to be offended or broken by them, his hand slid lower, brushing the side of my throat, lingering at the hollow of my collarbone.

I sucked in a breath as his thumb dragged across the delicate skin there, slow and deliberate.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled.

“Like what?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

Heat pooled low in my stomach, a dangerous ache that spread with every second of his touch.

I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve turned away. But instead, I whispered the one thing I shouldn’t have.

“Maybe I don’t want to stop.”

His eyes darkened, his breath hissing out like I’d just given him permission he’d been dying for.

In the next instant, he had me pinned against the rough bark of a tree, his body caging mine, his mouth on mine again hard, consuming, desperate.

His hand fisted in my hair, tugging my head back as his lips trailed fire along my jaw, down to the sensitive skin of my neck.

I gasped, my fingers clutching his shoulders, nails digging through the fabric.

“Christophe-”

“Say it,” he demanded against my skin, his voice raw. “Say you’re mine.”

“I-” The word tangled in my throat, caught between truth and denial.

His teeth grazed my neck, not quite biting, but close enough to send shivers racing through me. My knees went weak, my body betraying me completely.

“Say it,” he growled again, the command thick with need and something darker.

And in that moment, with his hands on me, his breath burning against my skin, I almost did.

The word burned on my tongue, begging to be spoken. His. Mine. Ours.

But I bit it back, choking on the truth like it was poison.

Christophe felt it. I knew he did. His grip tightened in my hair, his mouth dragging heat over my throat, down to my collarbone. His breath was ragged, heavy with restraint he was seconds away from losing.

“You want to say it,” he murmured, lips brushing skin. “I can feel it.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse a frantic drum beneath his mouth. “You’re wrong.”

He laughed low, dark, against my skin. “Then why are you trembling? Why do you hold on to me like you’ll fall apart without me?”

I hated him. I hated how his words slipped beneath my defenses, how he turned every weakness into a weapon.

But I hated myself more for knowing he was right.

His hand left my hair and slid down my side, possessive, slow, like he was memorizing every inch of me. My breath caught, a broken sound, and his smirk returned against my neck.

“There it is,” he whispered. “The sound I’ve been waiting for.”

I shivered violently, pressing back against the tree, as if its rough bark could anchor me to reality. But Christophe pressed closer, erasing any space between us, his body a solid wall of heat and demand.

“Christophe-” My voice cracked, betraying me.

“What?” His tone was sharp, dangerous. “Tell me what you need, Katherine. Tell me you need me.”

The ache low in my stomach twisted tighter, unbearable. My lips parted, the words trembling on the edge. yes, I need you but I caught them at the last second, choking on a denial instead.

“I don’t.”

His hand shot to my chin, forcing my face up to his. His eyes were fire and ice, merciless and burning.

“You lied to me again,” he warned, “and I’ll make you regret it.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. There was no mistaking the threat in his voice but there was something else too, something rawer. Not just anger. Not just hunger. Obsession.

And maybe… fear.

I didn’t have time to answer. His lips crashed against mine again, savage, claiming, like punishment and reward all at once. My knees buckled, but his arm wrapped around me, holding me up as if I belonged nowhere else but against him.

My head spun, drowning in him his taste, his scent, the unrelenting force of his kiss.

And God help me, I kissed him back.

It was reckless. It was dangerous. It was everything I swore I would never do. But at that moment, I couldn’t stop.

I wanted him.

No. I needed him.

When he finally tore his mouth from mine, I was gasping, clutching at him like I was the one keeping him from slipping away.

His forehead pressed to mine, his voice rough, broken. “Say it, Katherine. Just once. Say you’re mine.”

The world held its breath, waiting for me to choose.

But before I could, the sharp crack of a branch snapped through the trees.

Both our heads whipped toward the sound.

Christophe’s body went rigid against mine, his hand instantly sliding to the gun at his side. His entire presence shifted in a heartbeat from lover to predator, dangerous and alert.

I froze, my breath lodged in my throat.

Another snap echoed, closer this time.

Voices. Low, male, muffled, but moving in our direction.

Christophe cursed under his breath, dragging me tighter against him. His eyes cut back to me, sharp and wild.

“Not a word,” he hissed.

I nodded, barely able to breathe.

The footsteps grew louder, too close. My pulse hammered so hard I thought it would give us away. Christophe’s hand pressed lightly over my mouth, his other hand steady on his weapon.

And in that terrifying silence, pressed against him, his breath hot against my ear, I realized the truth.

The danger wasn’t just out there, in the woods, in the men who hunted us.

The real danger was him and what he made me feel.