Royal Mafia Box Set: Books 1-4

by Bella J.

  He took a step closer. “You can’t tell me your real name, can you?”

  My gaze dropped to the floor, his shiny black shoes in my view. He was right. I couldn’t.

  With a gentle touch, he lifted my chin. “Look at me.”

  It was hard to look up and into his eyes. But I did, and I could barely take a simple breath as that one moment seemed to stretch on for eternity.

  Dark eyes with endless depth searched my face. “Why me?”

  My gaze dropped to the floor once more.

  “Don’t look away from me.”

  I swallowed hard, unable to gather the strength to look him in the eye as if I was his equal—which I wasn’t. My purpose here was to submit.

  “I said, look at me!”

  I jolted at the snap of his tone. He was losing his patience with me, which meant I was displeasing him.

  Immediately, I looked up at him just as he demanded. “I’m sorry, Master.”

  He stumbled back as if someone had punched him in the gut. “What did you just call me?”

  Oh, God. I failed. I could see it on his disappointed yet bewildered face. I screwed up…and now I would pay the price.

  Chapter 6

  Antonio

  Master.

  Red.

  Blood.

  Pain.

  Jesus. She called me Master. Why the fuck would she call me Master? This was fucking insane. It was like I got sucked through a vortex of shit, only to get spat out in this goddamn nightmare where my mistake had finally returned to haunt me. It was as if someone was playing a sick joke, pulling my mind back to a past I’d rather forget. The worst part? It was working. The sound of submission in her voice, the way she called me Master sent a surge of adrenaline down my spine, all the way to the tip of my cock. With one word, this woman had every part of me electrified and my body hummed with wicked intent. I was that man once again. After years of fighting it, pushing it back to the farthest corners of my mind, this woman pulled it all back with one simple little word.

  One. Simple. Little. Word.

  For a second, I lost myself. I lost myself in the depraved desires no man should ever have. It was sick. It was twisted. And it was the fucking vice I had been struggling with for so long.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, pushing back the darkness which had been lurking within, waiting for an opportunity to consume me.

  Never stop fighting it.

  I exhaled then looked at her. The chocolate swirls in her eyes were filled with shades of panic, her body shuddering while her shoulders slumped forward. The next thing I knew, she all but fell out of the bed onto her knees right in front of me, bowing so low her forehead was against the floor.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She groveled at my feet, naked, with the raven strands of her long, dirty hair which hung over her left shoulder splayed across the floor. “I’ve displeased you.”

  “What the fuck, woman? Get up.”

  She didn’t move.

  “I said get up.” I wanted to crouch. To help her up. But that was when I saw it. The scars. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. All I saw were the big, thick marks which tainted the skin of her back. Some were older than others, the flesh already white, while others were red, dry scabs still hanging at the edges. It was horrendous mutilations. Remnants of what seemed like brutal lashes, burns, and cut marks. And it all seemed too fucking familiar.

  Hanging from the ceiling, chained and bound by her wrists and ankles, she looked like a fucking offering. An offering to God. An offering to me.

  Her naked body had never looked more enticing, more pure and beautiful than it did then. Blonde hair braided perfectly hung down her back, a red mask covering her eyes. We’d done this dance before, she and I. A dance of seduction, submission, and complete control. She trusted me. Surrendered herself to me fully. I demanded nothing less. From the very first day she stepped into the playroom with me holding the whip, she knew I would only be satisfied with perfection. Complete and utter submission. And, by God, she gave it to me.

  Her body was mine. It belonged to me, and I reminded her of that with every strike of my whip across her skin. Every mark of my cane on her flesh. And every orgasm that tore through her body.

  Mine.

  Mine.

  Mine.

  Right here in this room, everything about her was mine. Once that door closed, the outside world didn’t exist. Her life consisted of nothing but me. I was her master. Her dominant.

  I was her fucking king. And like a man obsessed, I wanted it to stay that way. I was possessed and addicted to the adrenaline that pumped through my veins when I witnessed her submission, the way she surrendered her all to me. It was fucking perfect…except tonight it was different. Everything was wrong. It was tainted. Distorted. Ruined.

  Red decorated her pale skin, tears of crimson slipping down her naked back, all the way down her legs. Her cries which filled the room weren’t those of ecstasy, but those of pain and agony.

  Red.

  Red.

  Red.

  Over and over she said the one word I never thought I’d hear from her lips. And even though I heard her say it, somehow my mind couldn’t understand what the fuck was going on.

  Deep grooves had been slashed across her back, open wounds bleeding, her skin marred and mutilated.

  What the fuck happened? Nothing about the sight in front of me made any sense. My mind was reeling, the inside of my veins burning with adrenaline.

  More blood.

  More cries.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak, completely separated from reality…until I felt a weight in my right hand. It was only when I looked down, seeing what I held in my hand, that reality knocked the wind right out of me.

  A whip. And at the ends…blood.

  My chest ached as the memory assaulted my mind. One word. That was all it took to catapult me back to a past I fought so hard to forget. A past which seemed to never let go of my being.

  I swallowed hard. “Please, get up.” My voice wasn’t nearly hard enough for her to hear. “Jesus. I said get up from the motherfucking floor!” My hands wrapped tightly around her shoulders as I yanked her up to her feet, grabbing one of the sheets off the bed and wrapping it around her. Her body trembled, her lips quivering even though it was eighty degrees outside.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She kept repeating it over and over and over again, as if her entire vocabulary only existing of those words, and it was driving me mad.

  “Stop.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Pleading eyes met mine. “The word Master displeased you. I deserve to be punished.”

  Punished.

  Pain.

  Red.

  Blood.

  “Stop it. Calm the fuck down.” I moved her backward, trying to get her to sit down on the bed, but she kept struggling, wanting to fall down back to the floor.

  “Nessuno, I said stop!”

  My voice slammed against the concrete walls as she fell to her knees once more.

  Her head hung down, her body trembling. “I have displeased you. I deserve to be punished.”

  I looked up to the roof. “Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath.

  The door opened, and Lucio walked in.

  I sighed. “Thank God.”

  Lucio smirked. “Yeah, I get that a lot when I walk into a room.” Then he noticed the woman on the floor…on her knees…by my feet. He stilled. “I am going to pretend I know exactly what is going on here and that this ain’t weird at all.”

  “It’s weird.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is.” He closed the door and walked closer. “What’s happening here?”

  I pulled my hand through my hair. “This is a goddamn nightmare.”

  “A woman groveling at your feet? I dunno. This seems like shit dreams are made of, actually.”

  I glowered at him. “Not funny.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. It’s not funny.” He turned to face m
e. “So, imagine I have a gun to your head right now, and you only have one guess as to what the fuck is happening here right now, what would it be?”

  “Oh, my God. Are you fucking serious?”

  He nodded. “As cancer.”

  I threw my hands in the air and looked up at the roof. Truth be told, with every bone in my body, I believed I already knew what the fuck was going on here. I just didn’t want to say it out loud.

  Lucio gave me a pointed look. “So?”

  “Christ.” I let out a breath. “You and I both know what’s happening here.”

  He cocked a brow at me. “We do?”

  “Come on, Lucio. You’re seeing this, right?” I pointed toward Nessuno, who was still on her knees on the floor…by my feet.

  Lucio frowned then gestured toward the door. “I think we need to discuss this further outside. Come on.” Lucio grabbed me by the shoulder.

  “What about her? I can’t just leave her on the fucking ground.”

  He paused. “If you’re right, and we both know what’s going on here, I have a feeling she’s in her comfort zone right now.”

  Lucio pulled me back, and I exited the room with him, leaving Nessuno—God, I hated the word—on the floor. I hated it. But I would have been a liar if I said the obedient side of her didn’t stir something deep inside me. Something I had spent my whole life to get rid of.

  Lucio closed the door then turned to me. “I say you go first, and then if you’re right and we’re both thinking the same thing, then I won’t feel like such a sick fuck as I do right now.”

  I scowled. “I swear to God, sometimes I wonder how the fuck you and I can be related.”

  “Small things, cousin. Now spill.”

  With narrowed eyes, I stared at him while crossing my arms. “I don’t have to spell it out, Lucio.”

  “I know you don’t, but I’d prefer it if you do.”

  I pulled my palm down my face, the stubble of my five o’clock shadow scratching against my skin. “Nessuno…she’s a…you know. She’s a…”

  “A what?”

  Goddammit. I couldn’t get myself to say the word. Saying it out loud would make it a reality and I wasn’t sure whether I was ready to deal with that. Making this entire scenario surrounding Nessuno real would mean I had to confront the part of me I’d worked so hard to hide in the first place.

  “Come on, Antonio. For God’s sake.”

  “She’s a slave, Lucio. Nessuno is a goddamn sex slave.”

  With an unreadable expression, Lucio nodded slightly. “Yup, exactly what I thought. At least now I don’t feel like such a sick fuck.”

  I pointed to the bedroom door. “That woman is a slave, which means my theory of human trafficking has about a ninety-nine percent chance of being right on the mark.”

  Lucio stared at me before lifting his gaze to the roof. It felt like fucking hours as silence passed between us, until I figured I might as well say what I thought was going on. “I think Nessuno is under the impression I’m her new…” I struggled to find the right word since “master” wasn’t the word I wanted to use.

  Lucio frowned. “You’re her new, what? Owner.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, something like that. Earlier, before you came in, she called me…she called me,” I swallowed, “Master.”

  And then Lucio’s entire face lit up as if someone had just told him the Earth was round instead of flat. “That’s what this is. It’s like one of those ‘the newly hatched babies figure the first creature they see is their mom’ kind of thing.”

  I blinked. “I’ve always had this feeling that you were somewhere between slightly and completely fucked in the head. Now I’m leaning toward completely.”

  “It makes total sense.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, that’s the scary part.”

  He seemed confused. “What?”

  “The fact that it actually makes sense.”

  Lucio stepped closer, his face every shade of serious. “Why would she think you’re her new owner?”

  I shrugged. “If you think about it, she’s been a slave for fuck knows how long. This kind of life is all she knows. Being owned is all she knows. There’s no reason for her to think we’re any different. That her being here with us will be any different for her. What I don’t get is why me. Why not Lorik, Dante…or you?”

  Lucio raised a brow. “First, Lorik? Ew. Second, Dante is so pussy-whipped with Layla, it would take a special kind of stupid to think he’s even remotely available or interested in any other woman. And third,” he paused for a second, “yeah, I don’t know why not me.” He shrugged. “But maybe she knows.”

  “Knows what?”

  “Maybe she knows about…you know. You.”

  “Um…”

  “For fuck’s sake, Antonio. I know, okay? I know about Club X.”

  I stepped back, narrowing my eyes. “What?”

  Lucio crossed his arms. “You can’t expect me to run security and not know everything there is to know around here.”

  My heart picked up its pace. “You followed me?”

  “That’s beside the point, Antonio.”

  And then I snapped. I launched forward and grabbed him by the collar, shoving him backward and slamming him against the wall. “Who the fuck gave you the right to have me followed?”

  “Jesus, calm down.”

  “No!” I pulled him forward, slamming his back hard against the concrete. “I am the fucking boss around here. I run things in this goddamn family. You overstepped, Lucio.”

  He held up his hands in surrender, not attempting to free himself. “I take my job seriously. I take the protection of this family seriously. If you can’t deal with that, then maybe you should find someone else to do it.”

  I tightened my grip on his collar, anger pulsing through my veins. He knew. Lucio fucking knew. I had spent years hiding this part of me, and now someone knew. My own goddamn cousin.

  “I’ve known for a while, Antonio. I don’t plan on telling anyone.”

  I bit the inside of my mouth while glaring at him for a few more seconds. “Do not forget your place, Lucio.” And then I let go of him. “I am king in this fucking house.”

  “I know that.” He straightened his shirt. “What you do in your personal life is none of my business. I don’t give a fuck what shit you’re into, all I care about is protecting you and the rest of the people in this house.”

  For a second, I had to respect the loyalty my cousin had toward our family. This kind of loyalty could not be bought, and I needed to appreciate that.

  “Listen,” Lucio stepped closer, “we need to figure out what she knows. We need to get inside that little head of hers if we have any chance at figuring out what the fuck is going on. Somehow, she’s drawn to you. You need to use that. You need to tap into your past to get through to her. It’s the only shot we’ve got.”

  I shook my head. “No. I can’t.”

  “You have to.”

  “No. You don’t understand. I can’t do it. I can’t go down that road. Not again.”

  Lucio kept his gaze locked on mine. “If you want answers, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

  “No.” I roughed my hand through my hair, feeling like I could pull every last strand out of my fucking skull. “There’s just no way. Maybe Dante is right. Maybe we should take a step back and wait for things to unfold.”

  “After that letter we got, do you really think we have time to stand back and to wait for shit to unfold?”

  My little cousin might be a rebel and trigger-happy—and I might have almost kicked his nosy fucking ass—but he was right. We needed to make sure our defenses were up. Even though we still had no idea who we were up against, and what kind of game they were playing, we needed to be ready. The sooner we found out what the fuck was going on, or at least who we were up against, the better we could prepare ourselves.

  “Jesus. Fuck!” I blurted out before lifting my face to the heavens, eyes closed, heart pou
nding like a jackhammer against my ribs. I took a deep breath then exhaled before looking at my cousin. We didn’t say anything. We didn’t have to. He knew my struggle, and I knew my responsibility. My struggle was against the demons of my past. My responsibility was doing everything in my power to get to the truth, to protect my family.

  “Okay.” I turned and reached for the doorknob.

  “Yo, cous.”

  I stilled.

  “You know, I don’t judge.”

  I closed my eyes. Although I appreciated it, it wasn’t his judgment I was afraid of. Or anyone else’s, for that matter. It was my own guilt that kept me awake at night. I’d convicted myself, and my sentence was living with what I’ve done for the rest of my life.

  With my hand on the door handle, I glanced over my shoulder. “Your discretion will be appreciated.”

  As I walked into the room, Nessuno was still right there where I left her, on her knees, her forehead against the floor. The sight of her naked body posed in the purest form of submission brought flashbacks of the past to the forefront of my mind.

  The adrenaline.

  The lust.

  The electric excitement of anticipation.

  The fucking control.

  It was all there, right at my goddamn feet, like an offering. A sacrifice for the caged beast within me.

  For a few moments, I looked at her, watched as her back moved ever so slightly with every breath she took. The scars and marks on her body seemed illuminated under the light. The only things missing from the scene in front of me were chains…and me.

  I pulled my hand down my face. After all this time fighting it, I now found myself in a position where my family’s only hope was for me to embrace my own depravity. My cross.

  “Jesus,” I muttered under my breath before glancing down at Nessuno again. There was no other option but this.

  I walked toward her and grabbed the chair, placing it in front of her. With a deep breath, I took a seat, my gaze still fixed on her naked back. Her scars.