Degrade: A Dark Mafia Romance (DeLancy Crime Family Book 1)

by Elizabeth Knox

  Nodding, Malcolm leaves my office and I sit forward and pull up the OneEye account for Madelaine Ross. Seems there’s more to this woman than meets the eye and I find myself intrigued. I want to know everything I can about the woman asleep on my couch.

  Chapter Five

  Madelaine

  My head pounds worse than it had when I was nineteen and snuck out to the French Quarter for Mardi Gras. I bring my hand to my forehead and groan as the pulsating grows more intense. Eventually, I find the courage to open my eyes and instantly my breath catches in my throat. I have no idea where I am. I’ve never seen this couch . . . nor have I ever seen this room before.

  Think, Madelaine, think.

  What’s the last thing I remember?

  Nachos, being with my father, a car, and feeling very odd.

  God, what did he do? Where did he bring me?

  I try to breathe in and out slowly, finding enough courage to sit up and look around . . . though it doesn’t come easily. After a few more seconds I put my arms underneath me and push up, finally rising to see wherever I am.

  To my right there’s a full wall of built-in cabinetry, kind of like the type you’d see in a regal office. The wood’s either a charcoal color, or it’s been painted over, but in the center there are six massive screens. They look like some sort of surveillance camera system, considering they’re time stamped with dates and numbers. I focus in on the date and realize it’s only a day in the future. Er, not the future, but only a day has passed since I was with my father. I glance over to the time again and see it’s about noon . . . meaning I slept quite a bit.

  Directly across from me there’s more of the same cabinets. The top bit operates as a bookshelf while the lower area must be for storage. I spot copper art sculptures on a few of the shelves, and then I finally look down at myself. I’m no longer in my KISS tank top or my denim jeans. Instead, I’m wearing a black dress with sheer sleeves, and there’s a pair of heels sitting next to the couch I’m sitting on. Sweat beads over my arms and I realize I must’ve been drugged. There’s no other excuse for why I’d be sweating like this, or why I would’ve been so fucked up last night. My father fucking drugged me.

  Someone clears their throat from the left of me, so I turn and look at the person. “You were sweating, so I took the blanket off you. Before that you were shivering,” he tells me calmly, eyes scanning over my body.

  I’ve never seen this man before in my life. His eyes pierce through me more than Snow’s do, and he’s got this scruffy look to him. He’s wearing a very expensive suit, which tells me he’s either an expensive businessman or a crime lord. There are only two types of men who reside in New Orleans, if I’m even still in New Orleans, that is. My eyes catch the gold-plated gun on his table, which signifies he’s part of the latter.

  “Where am I? Actually, who are you? And, what am I doing here?” I bark out question after question as they pop into my head.

  He leans back in his taupe-colored chair and smirks. “I appreciate your curiosity, but one question at a time, bombe.”

  I don’t know what he’s just said, but I do know it’s French. Most of the people in New Orleans come from some sort of French background.

  “My name is Félix, and as of,” he pauses to look down at his watch, “nine hours ago, your father traded you for his debt to my family.”

  He has to be joking, right? I know my dad’s a selfish bastard, but he’s never done anything like this before.

  “Right about now you’re asking yourself ‘could he really have done this to me?’. The answer is yes, Madelaine. Your father is nothing but a rat that dwells in the sewers, one who waits to come above ground only when it’s safe, and when it isn’t safe, he uses the one chip he still has left—his daughter.”

  Clenching my hand into a fist I grind my teeth before I speak to him, “You seem to know an awful lot about my father.” My tone is callous, showing him I’m not fond of the situation I’m in.

  “A man who he owes almost a million to would, don’t you think?”

  My eyes go wide at his question. How in the everloving hell did my dad manage to rack up a gambling debt of almost a million dollars? How, and why? Dammit, the realization I’m in a bigger pile of shit than I originally thought comes storming through my mind.

  Félix looks over to the laptop next to him and all of a sudden the monitors to my right change from the video feeds of different locations to my OneEye account, my photos, videos I’ve recorded, and other social media. “I know everything there is to know about you Madelaine, and I’ve had a good look at some of these videos. Although, this one is my favorite.” Félix taps the screen and the next thing I know we’re watching a video I posted a couple weeks ago. I’ve never minded recording these, especially since I can make a thousand dollars easy on a ten-minute video . . . but something doesn’t feel good about watching myself rock on the dildo I have suctioned to the bottom of my floor.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moan out in the video, pinching my nipples as I play with my clit with my alternate hand.

  I rip my eyes away, feeling disgusted, not because of my job . . . but because of the vulnerability Félix is forcing upon me. I take in a deep breath and look over to him, and his eyes are raking over my body as my moans fill the background until I meet my climax. He pauses the video and clears his throat. “I understand you must be in denial, but your father traded you to me for clearing his debt. I’ll have one of my men go to your apartment and fetch your belongings.” He’s speaking like I’m not going to be arguing with him, as if I won’t put up a fight. Well, if he thinks that he’s got another think coming.

  “I’m not going with you. Not now, and not ever,” I determinedly grit. I place my hands underneath me and stand up, but as I do I wobble to the left and the right. I imagine I look similar to a newborn foal attempting to walk for the first time.

  His feet hit the floor and just as I take another step and start to go down, he wraps his arms around me and catches me before I fall. I look up into his icy blue eyes, more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life, yet even with my fear I’m curious.

  “You don’t have a choice here, Madelaine. You’re mine now and thus you will be until the end of your days.”

  I shake my head, slamming my palms against him. “What did you drug me with?!” I yell at him, trying to get his hands off my body.

  Immediately, his eyebrows drop and for the first time since speaking with him I think I might be seeing past this macho man façade. “I wasn’t the one who drugged you. I’m afraid you can give credit to your father for that as well. He gave you GHB.”

  “He gave me what?” I ask, ripping my arms away from his I topple backward and luckily, hit the couch. Félix doesn’t approach me any further, but he does speak.

  “The street name is Everclear. Essentially, it’s liquid X, a date rape drug.”

  Nausea boils through my system and I have a hard time processing what he’s just said. Everything is closing in around me and it becomes difficult to breathe, but I do try. I try to breathe slowly and realize I’m okay, repeating in my mind how I’m not dead, how I’m alive, how I could be locked in a dungeon being raped . . . but I’m not. Yet everything I’m doing to settle my mind isn’t working. Instead, I’m asking myself how he could do this to me.

  How could he do this to his only child? Better yet, his daughter?

  And for the life of me I can’t fathom how I’m only valuable to him as a chip, something to barter with . . . I’ve always known my dad’s been fucked up, but I never knew he was this messed up.

  Chapter Six

  Félix

  I notice the paleness of Madelaine’s face immediately and get up to help her to the bathroom. I’ve had more than my fair share of experience with drugged women. Some of the women who worked for my father he’d had kidnapped and would drug them. It was his way of hooking the women to him.

  My brothers and I’ve always despised these methods and refused to do them. I have siste
rs, before my mother died she’d made sure to instill in her sons that the way our father does business isn’t the way we must when the time were to come. But she didn’t stop there, she made sure we knew to never treat a woman the way we wouldn’t want our sisters treated.

  I help Madelaine by holding her hair back while she releases the contents of her stomach into the toilet. At the same time she tries to find her breath. It can’t be easy for her to realize her world has been turned upside down. I’m sure last night her life was entirely different.

  Being gentle with Madelaine reminds me of how I held my sister, Olivia, when she was drugged at the hands of Deanna. She’d gone in my sister’s room while she slept, injected her with Heavenly Rose, a drug created by a doctor who worked for a man named Ezra Rivas. The next morning my brothers found her in the home of a group of thugs that worked for my father at the time. Deanna gave Olivia to them to rape and have their way with her. Due to the drug in my sister’s system she’d been unable to control her own body. Which resulted in her allowing those men to do as they pleased, no matter how depraved it might’ve been. She lusted for it. Needing more and they gave it to her. That’s what the drug does, it targets the sexual system and makes it go into overdrive.

  If it weren’t for my brother, Nicholas, overhearing Deanna’s cackles, we might not have found her when we did. He saw Deanna watching a live feed of it happening. She was a sick, twisted woman who got pleasure out of other people’s suffering. My brothers and I tore into the house and killed each one of the men who touched her. Since then, my sister doesn’t even go to sleep at night without a guard at her door. For a while she slept in one of our rooms, wanting nothing other than to feel safe and secure.

  The only thing that saved Deanna from our wrath is that she’d gone psycho when she found out about Chains and Tiny. We all knew about her obsession with Chains, and since she couldn’t have him no one could. She’d been completely insane and ended up shooting Chains while eating a bullet herself at the hands of his ol’ lady, Tiny.

  Madelaine sits up some and moans. I drape her long hair over her shoulder to keep it out of the way and grab a cloth from next to the sink and wet the fabric. I’m surprised Madelaine allows me this small chance to care for her. From the way she’s spoken already I know I have my work cut out for me. I inwardly grin at the challenge.

  “You okay now?” I ask her while tossing the cloth into the sink.

  “Yes. You didn’t have to do that. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself,” she grumbles out, still spitting poison at me.

  “Maybe so, but I take care of those who belong to me and considering you were drugged it was only reasonable to help you.” I shrug and hold my hand out, offering it to her to take.

  Madelaine brushes my offered hand out of her way and stands on wobbly legs. “I want to go home,” she demands.

  “I’ll take you home and show you to your new room then I’ll send someone over to pack up your old place. You have no reason to go back there,” I scoff. I’ve gotten every piece of information about this woman that I could, including the place she’s renting. It’s in one of the roughest parts of town. I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten hurt living there yet.

  “You can’t do this. I’m a person. A human being, I have a life to live, friends, a cat who depends on me to get her catnip and everything else,” she yells, waving her hand in the air which is only comical. The woman couldn’t hurt me even if she tried. She might be a hundred and forty pounds soaking wet, while I’m in the two-fifty range.

  I don’t know what it is about her, but I find it amusing where normally I’d be pissed and throwing her to the curb for daring to speak to me in such a way. I’ve had women who were beautiful in their own ways throw themselves at me, wanting a night in my bed. I’ve had women throw temper tantrums and I’ve sent them away for no other reason than I didn’t feel like hearing it. But when it comes to Madelaine, it seems I enjoy her little attitude.

  I make myself very familiar with her OneEye account, going through all the photos and even the videos. I scanned through a good bit of it when she was in my office, though this time I’m not rushing, I’m taking my good ol’ time. Though, I found the video of her fucking a dildo particularly intriguing. It was my favorite, but I enjoyed them all. That one just made my cock hard.

  Grinning, I step forward and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. “I’ll make sure your things are taken care of. As for your life to live I agree you do have a life to live, but it’ll be one without you posting images of your body online. From now on the only one who gets to see this erotic body will be me.”

  Without giving her a chance to respond, I release her from my embrace and wrap my hand around her wrist. I pull her out of my office and out to my car. I can literally feel the fumes rolling off Madelaine the entire time.

  I’ll let her stew for a while and then speak with her some more. Maybe I should tell her the full truth of it all to appease her mind. Then again, I find I’m enjoying seeing her this way. I’m a selfish asshole, but I can be a nice guy sometimes. Although those times are few and far between. I like things done my way and this woman is going to learn this bit of information very soon.

  Maybe I’ll be nice and go by her place myself and get her cat for her. It might earn me some brownie points. Inwardly, I chuckle to myself.

  Yeah, like I really need those. No, when the time comes, I’ll have Madelaine where I want her, and I don’t give a fuck how I go about it.

  Chapter Seven

  Madelaine

  I’m in some sort of tower . . . or at least it’s what it feels like. There are five windows in this oddly shaped room, one right behind the bed and two on both sides of it. An older type of chandelier hangs from the painted white rafters above me. The wall is a deep navy blue and there’s a writing desk with a pleated desk chair in front of it.

  My heart’s pounding in my chest as I take in my surroundings. I can’t believe this, not any of it. Part of me thinks I’m going to wake up at any moment and this is going to be nothing but a horrible dream. God, how I want this to be a dream. I want to be on my couch, under a blanket, snuggled up with Snow.

  I highly doubt this is a dream because in my experience life has constantly fucked me over. It won’t be shocking if I don’t wake up from this, even if it’s as awful as it is right now. I plop down on the soft area rug and breathe. Out of everything he’s ever done, this by far has to be the worst.

  He threw me aside like I’m simply a piece of property, nothing but a product to him. Even as the reality sets in, I look around in this room and know I never would be experiencing this sort of extravagance unless I was in Los Angeles or Las Vegas.

  I shake my head, not sure why I’m even thinking about this. Is it because a nicer place means bad things won’t happen to me? Probably not. I’m still in the same sort of risk, the same sort of danger as I was before. Just because this place looks nice doesn’t completely nix the idea I could die.

  God, I’m not ready for death. I’m not ready for anything close to it. I haven’t even lived life for myself for fuck’s sake. Instead I’ve been a pawn to be used whenever deadbeat daddy called, and like every other time I’d go running in the hopes for some sort of change to happen, whether it be him giving up gambling, or even a simple ‘I love you’. Unfortunately, I didn’t get either and I doubt I ever will.

  I glance down and look at the black dress I’m in, realizing my purse isn’t over my body like usual. I’ve never been fond of those huge purses, so I prefer the smaller crossbody styles. My phone is in my purse, so I can’t even call Rebel, or one of my bosses. I’d probably end up calling Gia because she’s the one who manages security for the different Crave, LLC locations. God, I can’t even let them know what’s going on . . . not that I’d even know what to say, but I just posted two days ago and my contract with them says I have to post a set every week.

  Working for Crave is my livelihood and if I ever get out of he
re, I’m going to need some place to run back to. I’ll need my job . . . but maybe it won’t matter. He locked me in here like a prisoner, so maybe he plans to cut me up in little pieces and throw me somewhere in the bayou. I don’t know.

  I shake my head again, take a few deep breaths, and keep repeating the process of slowing down my breathing. One of my co-workers at OneEye is very spiritual and teaches meditation, centering yourself, and abundance of other spiritual classes. Before I know it, I’m growing tired very quickly and the darkness consumes me.

  I wake up to the sound of metal rubbing against something. Opening my eyes quickly, I immediately look to the door and light shines in. Though, it’s only a crack, a dark frame fills the space and then the door shuts.

  The light to the bedroom is turned on and I do a double take. Félix stands with a familiar white ball of fluff who has the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. “Snow!” My tone of voice comes out half-screech, half-croak since my mouth is incredibly dry. I bet it’s from being drugged, a weird side effect or something.

  Snow flicks her tail from one side to the next and kneads her claws into the arms of Félix’s suit jacket. Snow purrs loudly while Félix rubs his fingers behind her ears, which is her favorite spot to be petted in the first place. Man, how I wish she’d turn around and bite him right now.

  Actually, I don’t. He could be the type to shoot an animal. I know nothing about this man other than his fucking first name.

  She tilts her head and a soft ding sound rings out, causing me to notice the soft pink collar she now has on with a bell. She never had a collar when she was with me . . . so he must’ve gotten it for her.

  “I’m sure you’re seeing it now, but all pussy loves me.”