The Mafia’s Pet

Chapter 3

Vanessa

My eyes flutter open, and I see my captor's face peering back at me. I'm still wearing my pajamas from yesterday when he snatched me from my bed. I breathe a sigh of relief. That means he didn't drug and violate me last night.

When I signed that contract last night, it was implied several times that he can just take what he wants, so I was afraid he would act on that last night.

He appears to be deeply asleep, warm air blowing against my face with his every soft exhale.

This is my chance to escape.

I wonder if there's a way I can get out of here without him waking. From what I saw, he only has a few bodyguards. I just have to find Alicia in this huge ass house, and we can escape.

I know if I make any noise, I'm f****d, so I carefully roll over onto my other side, my heart pounding like a drum. The movement causes the bed to dip, and I freeze, silently praying it hasn't woken him up as I peer over my shoulder.

Good, he's still asleep.

I attempt to move again, but the bed protests with an even louder groan.

Fuckkkkk!

Panic grips me, but he remains undisturbed. With a surge of determination, I fling myself off the bed. Probably not the brightest idea because it's dead silent in here, but if he wakes up, I'll just play it off like I fell.

Who the hell sleeps like this? I'm used to having the TV and fan on, but it's so quiet here, I can hear my own f*****g heartbeat. It's like a clear indication he's a psychopath!

I grab Mom's urn off the dresser and tiptoe backwards, studying his face for any indication that he might wake. With my heart thrashing against my ribcage, I attempt to at least keep my breathing steady.

Once I finally feel the door against my back, I hold my breath as I reach behind me and twist the doorknob, relief flooding through me as it turns smoothly.

Widening the door enough that I can slip through, I dart down the hallway, my footsteps silent against the plush carpet. I round the corner, relieved to find no guards in sight.

The stairs loom ahead of me. All I have to do is go down them and run out the front door. Maybe I can get far enough away that I can hide until they stop looking for me. But I can't leave without Alicia. I can't just leave her to fend for herself. Who knows what those disgusting men will do to her.

But how am I going to find her in this mansion? There are, like, a gazillion rooms and who knows who or what is behind these doors!

All of a sudden, I hear a giggle from downstairs. It sounds like my sister's, but that can't be right. I dart down the stairs and find Alicia sitting at a table eating, surrounded by three of our kidnappers. An elderly Hispanic woman is cooking on the stove, engaged in conversation with one of the men in Spanish.

Alicia looks unharmed, besides the flirtatious giggling. I think the trauma of last night may have broken her brain because why the f**k is she laughing and chatting with our kidnappers?

"Alicia," I gasp, grabbing the attention of the room. Here I am trying to get us out of here, and she's having the time of her life.

She smiles and waves me over. "Hey, Nessa, I was just talking about you."

I notice she's wearing a different outfit, satin shorts and a top that leaves little to the imagination. Did they force her to wear that?

"What the hell is going on?" I demand, marching over to her. "Why are you doing? Are you forgetting you're in a room full of men who threatened to kill us and pimp us out last night!"

"Well, I think we got plenty acquainted last night," she says, winking at them.

I put my hand over my mouth, tears springing to my eyes. "T-They ra-," I couldn't get the word out. "They violated you?" I ask in horror.

She coughs out a laugh. "No. It was purely consensual. I asked them to f**k me, and they did."

I blink, trying to process her words. "D-Don't you remember balling your damn eyes out last night when they forced us into their car?"

Alicia shrugs. "Sure. There was the initial shock of it all, but once that wore off, I realized we're finally free," she says, her voice laced with excitement.

Bile rises in my throat. "W-What? T-That must be the Stockholm-syndrome kicking in because you sound insane right now!"

I make a mental note that once we're finally free, our number one priority will be finding her a f*****g therapist.

She looks at me firmly, the green eyes she got from mom staring back at me. "Think about it, Nessa. We were locked up in that f*****g prison for seven years. Dad took away my life, our freedom. I haven't been touched by a man in so long, I practically begged them to do it."

My voice trembles as I whisper, "Y-You're lying. You wouldn't do that." She's out of her mind. My sister isn't a w***e that would open her legs for monsters in the mafia. No f*****g way!

Suddenly, this guy with brown hair and green eyes strides into the room. He gives us a once-over, his eyes lingering on each of us with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Then, he lets out a chuckle. "So, he decided to keep them. We haven't had communal p***y in a while."

"Ella pertenece al jefe (she belongs to the boss)," one of the men quickly adds.

His brows furrow in anger. "¿Que (what)?"

A rapid exchange of Spanish follows, and the only word I can understand is my father's name. His attention soon shifts to me again, his expression contorting with irritation. "Well, aren't you lucky? You should be lying in a grave with that traitor right now," he growls.

"Lucky?" I retort incredulously. "I was dragged from my bed, watched my home burn down, and coerced into signing a contract with a maniac. I would hardly call that f*****g lucky!"

If I weren't so afraid of what he'd do, I'd slap the s**t out of him for even suggesting there was anything good about this situation.

"In my defense, you asked for the contract." My body grows rigid from the sound of his voice.

Fuck.

I feel his powerful presence behind me, and I clutch Mom's urn harder as if it could shield me from him. He yanks my hair back, forcing me against his chest. His hand snakes around my neck, his warm breath hot against my skin. "I'm disappointed you weren't in my bed when I awoke. I hope you weren't trying to escape from me, Mama."

His voice is calm and low, as if he's just waiting for me to confess my sins so he can revel in my punishment.

But I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"I'm sure she knows better than that, Diego. She probably just wanted something to eat," the green eyed man assures him with a smirk.

So our captor's name is Diego. That information will be useful for the police report I'll be filing as soon as I get the hell out of here.

"Is that true?" Diego asks, his grip on my neck tightening just enough to assert dominance. "Do you usually bring an urn with you to breakfast?"

My body betrays me, trembling with fear and an inexplicable heat that pools between my legs. How can I be so repulsed by his touch yet crave it at the same damn time?

"Yes," I manage to bite out. "She was the only thing you let me grab before you destroyed my home."

He hums in response. "Well, let's place her back in the room. Danny," he motions to him, "Put her mom back on the nightstand."

They'll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands. There's no way I trust Danny with her. I just know he's seeking revenge for last night, and I won't let him destroy the last piece of my mom.

Diego releases his hold on me, turning me to face him. His piercing blue eyes meet mine. "Mama, give her to Danny. He'll be careful with her."

"You can't promise that. He could drop her on purpose!" I retort.

"He's one of my most loyal men. He won't do anything I don't ask him to do," he reassures me, his voice softer.

Still hesitant, I reluctantly hand over the urn to Danny. "I'm sorry Danny, but if you break this, I'll break my foot off in your ass!" I warn, glaring at him. He chuckles and mutters something in Spanish before heading upstairs with my mom.

"You have such a filthy mouth, Mascota. We'll have to fix that."

I roll my eyes. "Well, just spit in my f*****g mouth again. I'm sure that will fix it," I murmur, not even caring if he hears me.

Diego chuckles darkly. "That was part of your training. One day you'll learn to crave all of me inside of you," he purrs in my ear. His voice, dark and eager, sends a shiver down my spine.

"Whatever," I say, miserably failing to maintain my composure.

He releases his hold on me before motioning for me to take a seat at the table. "Luis, take the sister to her room and put her in uniform. We'll be leaving shortly."

I notice how he hasn't made any effort to learn her name and just calls her the "sister". But what else would you expect from an egocentric dickweed?

Alicia obediently follows him without a word, almost too willingly. God, I need to get her out of here, I won't let them try to turn her into an obedient puppy too.

"Danny, where is her collar?" Diego demands.

Oh great, he's back.

He vanishes once more and returns with a small box. "It just arrived this morning, Jefe."

"Perfecto (perfect)," Diego says, sounding pleased. He walks up to the table, places the box in front of me, and opens it. Inside is a fancy silver collar with a heart-shaped lock and the initials "D.R." engraved on it.

So his last name begins with an R. That should narrow it down for the police.

He lifts the collar, presenting it to me with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "This is your day collar, Mama. You won't take it off for the duration of the six months unless I remove it. Understood?"

I glare at him, feeling a surge of anger. He really thinks he f*****g owns me, and I'll just do whatever he says. He'll get his reality check soon. I'll make sure of it.

He points to the floor. "Kneel."

"What?"

His eyes bore into mine. "On your knees, Mascota."

If I pretend to go along with this twisted s**t just until we get to the club, maybe I can convince someone to call the police. I just have to get Alicia on board.

I rise from the table and awkwardly lower myself to my knees in front of him, keeping my eyes firmly on the floor. Gently hooking his finger under my chin, he tilts my face upward to meet his heated gaze.

His voice cuts through the tension, commanding and domineering. "Legs apart, hands on your knees, and straighten your back. You'll be in this position every time I collar you."

I grind my molars so hard, I'm surprised they don't break. I can't believe he's doing this in front of all of his men and that old lady. This is f*****g degrading!

As I position myself as instructed, Diego fastens the collar around my neck and clamps it shut. Then, he tucks the key in his pocket and stands back to admire his handiwork.

It's comfortable, not too heavy or tight around my neck, but the symbolism of his control fills me with trepidation. His ownership feels too real now. My fingers twitch with the urge to rip it off, but I force my hands to remain on my knees.

"That's a pretty piece of ass you've got there, Diego. Maybe I could use her sometime," Mr. Green Eyes remarks casually.

Diego snarls. "No, Leo. She's mine." I try to shoot Leo a glare, but the hold on my jaw tightens. "Focus on me, Mascota."

There's a possessive edge to his voice, igniting a fiery sensation that courses through my body.

Leo's tongue clicks. "You're different with this one...Interesting," he murmurs. His footsteps echo as he departs the room, followed by the two remaining men.

I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that everyone who witnessed my humiliation is gone.

"Stand," Diego commands.

I glare into his eyes, letting him know just how much I hate his f*****g guts as I rise to my feet.

The dickweed just smirks back at me. Leading me over to the table, he gestures for me to sit beside him. The older woman smiles and places a full plate in front of him. "Para mantenerte fuerte y saludable (to keep you strong and healthy)," she says.

As he thanks the woman serving him, I resist the urge to scoff at his facade. Grandma must be oblivious to the fact that he's a violent, dangerous murderer.

"¿Tiene hambre, Senora (Are you hungry, ma'am)?" Staring at me, she patiently awaits my answer to whatever the hell she just asked me. Diego quickly intervenes in Spanish, and she smiles and nods. For a moment, I anticipate that she'll return to the kitchen and grab me some food, but she simply leaves.

Well, I guess just f**k me then.

No matter how friendly this old lady appears, she works for a monster, so she was already on my s**t list. But after that, she just moved up to spot two after Diego.

I wonder if this is a punishment for trying to escape. It's okay though, I can survive without food. I once went for five whole days with just tap water when our father was late with his monthly grocery drop-off.

"Sit on my lap, Mama," Diego suddenly orders.

I shoot him a glare and snort dismissively. "In your f*****g dreams."

His jaw tightens with impatience. "Now. It wasn't a request."

When I don't budge, he harshly grabs my arm and pulls me from the seat onto his lap. I try to wiggle from his grasp, but he pins me down. "Stay," he barks.

Tears sting my eyes as I stop resisting, but my body remains rigid. His touch causes that unfamiliar throbbing between my legs once again, and I f*****g hate it. I can't take this s**t anymore...him trying to control me, his violating touches, or my body silently begging for more!

"Eat, Mascota. I am responsible for taking care of you for the next six months. I will not keep allowing you to make my job difficult."

I don't respond, I just glare off into the distance. I wonder how I can access the kitchen and find a knife. I guess it depends on how fast I can run.

As I tremble with fury, that I'm sure he can feel, he begins his meal as if it's normal. s**t, maybe it is for him. I'm sure he's done this to many unwilling women.

I look down at the plate ­— pancakes, eggs, and bacon. It's smells so delicious, so tempting, but I refuse to ask this asshole for anything.

I'd rather starve!

"You're a stubborn one," Diego grumbles, "I know you're hungry, I can hear your stomach growling. Eat."

He snatches a strip of bacon, probably checking that it's long enough to keep his fingers intact. Then, he teasingly brushes it against my lips. The hickory aroma wafts in my nostrils, making me drool.

No. I won't give in.

"Open, Mascota," he growls, his voice low and commanding.

Damn it! Fine!

Reluctantly, I part my lips and he pops the bacon in. I chew it with anger, my arms folded defiantly across my chest. The bursts of flavor on my tongue are so good, I have to hold back a moan.

Damn, Grandma can cook!

He lets out a chuckle, his chest rumbling against my back. "Good girl. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

I roll my eyes, but immediately after I swallow, I want more. But I'll be damned if I ask for it.

"Eat more," he says as if he can read my mind. "If you don't want to speak to me, that's fine. Tap on the table once if you want more and twice when you're full."

I nod, surprised that he's willing to do this instead of forcing food down my throat.

He completely abandons eating to feed me. First, he gives me bacon, then forkfuls of eggs and pancakes. After each bite, he waits for me to tap the table. He finally stops when I tap twice, feeling like my stomach might burst.

"Good girl," he croons. "See how simple things could be if you cooperate?" I grunt in response, not wanting to feed into his fantasy that he's training me. I remind myself that I'm simply doing what I must in order to survive.

He calls one of his men into the room in Spanish. Leroy, I think his name is. He's a big ass dude with fair skin and a bald head. I recognize him as the one that lit my home on fire, and if he wasn't so terrifying, I would find an opportunity to kick his balls into his stomach like I did with Danny.

"¿Está lista la hermana (is the sister ready)?" Diego asks.

I recognize that word. Sister.

God, I'm going to have to find a Spanish-English dictionary around here.

They have a brief conversation in Spanish, and then Leroy leaves.

"What did you say about my sister?" I demand.

"I asked him if she was ready. Apparently, she's busy f*****g my men, but they should be done and ready by the time we are," he replies, casually sticking a piece of bacon in his mouth.

Everything I just ate threatens to come back up. I don't know what's wrong with her, but she needs to get a f*****g grip, or I'll leave her ass here with them when I escape.

"You just let your men do whatever they want with women, huh?" I grit out.

"Are you asking me if I employ rapists?" he replies, a calm malice coloring his words. When I don't reply, he continues, "the answer is f**k no. If I found out one of them violated a woman like that, I would chop their d**k off myself. And from what I just heard, your sister is enthusiastic about all the attention."

My heart races, anger pumping through my veins. My sister is no mafia whore...at least, I won't let her be.

"I-I... Her name is Alicia," I manage to retort.

"Okay," he says, amusement in his voice. "Alicia is enthusiastic about all the attention she's getting f*****g my men."

I wince at his callous words. Okay, I rather him not say her name in a statement like that, but at least now he won't just call her "the sister".

While I silently fume, he raises me from his lap. "Come on, it's time for us to get ready. We have a busy day ahead of us."