Forbidden Claim: A Mafia King’s Obsession

Chapter 24: The body

Nadia’s POV

The drive to the Romano estate is a silent one. The silence in the armored sedan is so heavy the only sound that can be heard is the low hum of the engine and the occasional click of Viktor’s turn signal. I keep my face pressed against the cold glass of the window, staring out into the pitch black Italian country side. The stinging pain on my neck seems to increase whenever I move — a constant anchor pulling me back to the violation that had just occurred. He only kissed me and used his hands to touch parts of my body, What’s going to happen when he… I can’t really imagine what it will be like.

Lorenzo sits beside me like a statue of unyielding power. He hasn’t spared me another glance after throwing his jacket over my ruined form, but I can feel his awareness of me. It radiates off him like waves of electricity. The car finally slowed and came to a stop in front of the massive gates of the Romano estate. I lift my head to look out, the mansion looks like the mouth of a beast preparing to swallow me whole. Viktor brings the car to a stop at the grand entrance of the mansion. The massive double doors are already thrown open, the warm, golden light from inside spilling onto the driveway.

“We have arrived, Don,” Viktor murmurs, shifting the car into park.

Lorenzo doesn’t respond. Instead, he adjusts his cuffs one more time, his movement terrifying, before turning speaking to him.

“Assicurati di sbarazzarti del corpo di quel topo come si deve, Viktor. Non commettere errori”

[Make sure to dispose of the body of that rat properly, Viktor. Make no mistakes]

Lorenzo orders Viktor in Italian, words I cannot even understand.

“Capisco, Don Lorenzo,” Viktor replies.

[I understand, Don Lorenzo.]

Then he turns his predator gaze to me, his sharp, dark gaze cutting deep into my partly exposed body. “Put on the jacket,” he orders, his voice a low, feral vibration. “Button it up to the throat. You have exactly thirty seconds to mask that pathetic, broken look on your face. Unless you want me to finish what I started.”

My breath hitches. The raw cruelty in his tone is like a slap to my face. With trembling fingers, I pull his heavy wool suit jacket over my shoulder. It smells entirely like him — bergamot and crisp, tobacco and danger.

Without any further words, Lucian steps out of the car and walks into the mansion. I slowly follow behind, the moment I step down from the car, my legs wobble, but i hold on tight to the jacket so I do not fall before taking shaky steps toward the mansion. I can’t get rid of the fact that his mother is around . I just pray she’s not going to add more problems, I’ve already had more than enough for today. Lucian ascends the circular stairs to the east wing with heavy steps, when he reaches the door to my suite, he throws it open, grabs my arm and shoves me roughly inside. I stumble into the soft rug, my heels digging into it but I try to steady myself, then he walks in and slams the door shut behind him.

“You must have heard — my mother is around,” Lucian walks over to the bar and grabs a bottle of red wine, pouring himself a glass. He gulps it down and slams the glass down on the table with a loud clink.

“Look at you, so weak,” he sneers, looking at me with absolute disgust. He starts taking slow steps toward me. The armor I had built an hour ago in the car begins to crack as I take slow steps backward.

“Lorenzo, please… don’t do this,” I whisper, my voice trembling so bad. “You already did enough tonight.”

I pleaded but he keeps walking toward me, stopping just inches away. His towering frame casting a massive shadow over my small form. He reaches out, his long fingers catching the collar of his jacket and slowly undoing the buttons exposing the torn silk and the pale skin of my neck.

“Just a fragile touch, and you are trembling like a cat drenched in rain, so easily shaken,” he whispers, staring down at me. His eyes glistening with an unfamiliar expression, one I’ve never seen before.

“I am not shaken,” I hiss through my teeth, staring directly into his eyes. “You can trap me in this estate. You can force yourself on me. But you will never own me.”

A dark, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, his hot breath making my stomach twist violently.

“We will see about that, piccola,” he murmurs. “Strip. Wash the blood and the scent of me off your skin. Look presentable like a Don’s wife should. Then come downstairs, we are having dinner with my mother.”

He pulls away, giving one last look of absolute possession, then he walks out of the room, slamming the door shut. My legs finally give out beneath me. I collapse to the floor, the heavy, wool jacket pooling around me like a shroud. I clutch my stomach, a broken, silent sob finally ripping from my throat as I stare at the dark mahogany door.

Why me?