Mafia Captive (8 page)

“See, Faith? This is nothing,” Dream-Leo said. “You can give me this.”

When she woke, her own hand was between her legs, and she was aroused.
No!
If some part of her actually fell for him, it would be more painful. She didn’t want to be like one of those kidnap victims who started sympathizing with her captor. She didn’t want to start believing his lies. And she definitely didn’t want to want him or like his hands or lips on her. She pressed her face against her pillow in an attempt to muffle her distress—though she knew Leo couldn’t hear her from the other end of the house. Then she pressed her face against the pillow to muffle the sound of her orgasm.

Chapter Seven

Leo paced the entry hall, the usually unobtrusive Christmas music beginning to set his teeth on edge. His family would start arriving in less than an hour. About half of them were coming in from Vegas, and they’d be trickling in until dinnertime. The other half would be equally
laissez-faire
about their arrival times, though they were all in or around Brooklyn.

He still second-guessed the plan. Faith had improved. When he’d instructed her to do a better acting job, she’d delivered. He couldn’t imagine how afraid she must be of the dungeon to be so compliant. And she’d never even seen the dungeon.

She probably imagined it as a far worse place than it was. In her mind, Leo had no doubt she saw damp stones with water dripping from some unknown source and algae growing through the cracks and crevices. There would be a dripping sound, a dank, putrid smell, a dirt or concrete floor, a chill that wouldn’t leave the air, and heavy chains.

He’d not bothered to disabuse her of that notion. The scarier the dungeon was to her, the easier it would be to get her cooperation. In reality, the dungeon was none of those things. If what he’d been told by the servants who had gone to get her belongings was true, the dungeon was nicer than her apartment in the city had been. It was done in black and a tasteful deep red with occasional splashes of other colors like purples and greens and yellows. It had been an inside joke with his previous submissives that the dungeon was the color of death, blood, and bruises. But it had still turned out beautiful.

There was a comfortable circular sofa in one corner and a bed close to that. There was reading material because a few of his subs had lived down there. There was a small bathroom with a whirlpool tub and a separate standing shower. Nothing large or fancy, but Faith would consider it nice. There was thick carpet in the bedroom area and heat. Max had a habit of curling up on the couch down there for naps when Leo left the door open.

There were chains, of course, and a box full of kinky toys and whipping implements, and the standard and some not-so-standard BDSM furniture. But it looked like a high-end club for kinky people, not a snuff film.

Though maybe it wasn’t the atmosphere that so terrified her. Maybe it was the bondage, the isolation. Maybe it was the fear that she would need something—and no one would hear her to help. Even a luxurious prison could be horrible. She was already living in a prison, confined to the house like an indoor house cat. But chains would be necessary if he kept her underground. Though the dungeon was well-insulated and tucked away from everything else, if she banged on the door, there was always the risk someone might hear.

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to kill her if she were to alert a sympathetic member of his family to her plight. And even if he could, it wouldn’t stop the cat from being out of the bag.

She’d made such progress. Her lips had become pliant under his. She’d stopped cringing from his touch when he came near her. It had taken working with her every day, but they’d gotten to something resembling a believable relationship forgery. He still worried it wasn’t enough. What if his mother saw through the ruse? What if the men did? They were too shrewd, able to spot a con because they knew how to pull one.

Maybe he should have locked Faith in the dungeon, but locking her up and isolating her for Christmas was too cruel even for his sadistic nature. He had to believe this would work. Then they could go back to the fucked-up dynamic the holidays had been so rude as to interrupt.

Leo smoothed his suit for the fortieth time. He’d dress more casually for most of the family holiday, but he liked to look nice when people first arrived, particularly on Christmas Eve. Jeans and a T-shirt would have made him look less nefarious. If his intent was to come off squeaky clean and sell this engagement story, perhaps greeting his family looking like Michael Corleone wasn’t the best of plans.

He knocked on his captive’s door. “Faith?”

When she opened the door, he was pleased to find her wearing what he’d laid out. He’d raided her closet for something to make a good first impression on his mother, but he’d come up short, so he’d had something brought in. It was a green sweater dress with a scooped neck. The dress came to just past the knees. It accentuated her figure without being too form-fitting. It was sexy, but classy and respectable. He’d given her a pair of brown boots to finish the look. A couple of small, gold chains adorned her otherwise bare neck.

Angelo was the real expert on fashion, but Leo had people, and his people assured him this was understated and stylish, that it would give the impression he wanted his family to have—of a girl who belonged here.

“Do I look all right?” She was so nervous, as if she thought he’d change his mind at the last minute before anybody got there.

“You look beautiful.” And she did. He wished he was more like his brother—more ruthless, less conscience. Seeing her like this, with that gorgeous red hair, made him want to enforce the roles between them. “Come here.” He wanted to devour her, prey upon her, possess her, and in some deep recess of his mind he knew it was only a matter of time before she broke him and he took her like some savage beast.

He frowned when she hesitated. This sign of his displeasure was enough to move her swiftly into his arms. Somewhere in there she
had
to be a sub. Leo was tempted to test it, to test her. He could have pushed her harder, he could have taken her and dropped her into the darkness with him. Every day that passed, he regretted his decision to be noble and give her space.

“You’ll do fine,” he whispered as he held her close and stroked her hair. “Nervousness is okay. If this was real, you’d be nervous. I have a big family, and they can be intense. It’s a lot to take, even for a real fiancée.”

Faith stiffened further at that, and he rubbed her back. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’ll tell them you’re shy. This will work out. I’ll keep you safe.”

At those words, she relaxed against him. Perhaps some part of her believed in him. Though he was frustrated to have a beautiful captive he couldn’t bring himself to defile, he’d begun to feel oddly protective of her. He might need her to believe he’d kill her if she tried to get help from his family, but holding her in his arms, he knew he’d never be able to do it or let anybody else do it, for that matter.

In his mind, he imagined smoothing things over so they would accept him keeping her. Surely they would approve of that outcome more than they would her murder. He could convince them he’d be kind to her. She had no bruises or marks. Such an idea was believable, especially with the way he always took care of everyone and shied from the uglier sides of the family business.

Leo thought back to a couple of nights ago when he’d asked her what she usually did for the holidays. The look she’d given him had been blank. She’d mumbled something about going out for drinks with her friends on Christmas Eve. And then something about an office Christmas party with a store-bought cake and a game that involved gag gifts.

And that was her Christmas experience. When he’d pressed her on her childhood, it hadn’t been much better. She’d said her family hadn’t had very much and she didn’t always get a Christmas present. Some years they didn’t have a tree. Sometimes a local charity would see to it that she got a doll or a game and a decent meal for the holidays, but it wasn’t anything like his own memories of the season. Such sharp contrast between the memories they had made him feel guilt for all he’d enjoyed while she’d suffered or barely scraped by.

From the moment she’d told him all that, he’d become determined to give her a nice holiday. If she must be his prisoner, he would make it easy on her.

The more he’d learned, the more he’d come to admire her, not just for the way she looked and the way she made his dick hard, but the way she’d fought for what she had. As young as she was, if she’d been left to her own devices, she would have made something of herself.

Though her apartment and financial power might be paltry by Leo’s standards, she’d pulled herself up from the gutter to have something resembling a life, with food on her table, clothes in her closet, and her bills all paid.

The doorbell rang. He pulled away from Faith, but she clung to him. It was a strange turn of events. Leo gently took her hands off his shoulders, linked one of his hands with hers, and took her to face the firing squad.

The first person to arrive was his mother. He’d had no doubt it would be her, though she was coming all the way from Vegas. Gina Raspallo was absolutely punctual in everything, as if she had an internal mechanism that forced her body to be at the proper place at the proper time without deviation. Leo’s father had died of a heart attack three years before, and his mother had become more punctual in the intervening time.

“Leo! Oh my baby! I missed you. You never come to see me,” Gina said, bending and dropping the diminutive Yorkie that scrambled to get out of her arms. She pulled Leo into a bear hug.

Max scrambled into the entry way at the sound of the yapping. The golden retriever found the Yorkie fascinating in every way, like a chew toy, though he had never hurt the other dog. The Yorkie began to hop up and down at the sight of Max, his short legs barely making it an inch in the air before he landed again.

“And this must be your girl!” Gina released Leo and turned her attention to Faith, who had stepped behind her son.

Faith squeaked when his mother hugged her. “Let me see that ring!” She squealed in delight at the engagement ring. “Doesn’t our Leo have the best taste ever? I’m Gina, but you can call me Ma.”

“Ma…” Leo said. “Don’t push her so much. You’ve known her thirty seconds.”

“Well, she’s gonna be family isn’t she?” His mother pierced him with the glare he’d been waiting for. The
how dare you get yourself engaged without letting me meet her first
glare.

She stepped back and appraised Faith, causing the redhead to shrink back. “Well, she’s not Italian, but at least she’s Catholic. I’ll take it. And I expect lots of grandchildren! She’s young enough, at least. I was worried you’d pick somebody older. You know it’s really better for a woman if they have the babies young. Now, what do you need me to do for dinner?”

Leave it to his ma to say the most inappropriate things about the childbearing years. He was surprised she hadn’t mentioned Faith’s great birthing hips.

“Ma, I told you. I’ve got people. We don’t need you to help with dinner tonight. You just got here for God’s sake. Relax. Go for a swim or something.” He’d had the temperature and pH of the pool tested just that morning.

“But it’s Christmas Eve. I don’t know why we don’t come here a few days before and cook all together in the kitchen like we used to. All the Brooklyn family gets to bring covered dishes, and I’m stuck doing nothing. I want to cook something for my boy. Now!”

It was pointless arguing. Once Gina got an idea into her head, woe to the man or woman who tried to stop her. Leo led her to the second kitchen, keeping a tight hold on Faith’s hand.

Most of the time, he used the smaller family-style kitchen, but with his family here, everything had been upgraded to the large kitchen and even larger dining room. The doorbell rang again, and he left Gina with the kitchen staff to go greet the new guests. His mother was their problem now.

***

Faith fought to keep control of herself. If she had a meltdown now, she wasn’t sure what Leo would do. Meeting his mother had been bracing to say the least, but when the woman had mentioned grandchildren, Faith felt the world drift away into some strange oblivion she couldn’t seem to hold onto anymore.

Grandchildren.

She’d been afraid to look into Leo’s eyes after that. But he had to know this couldn’t work now. He’d promised he wouldn’t require sexual intimacy from her. In a big family that expected big families, this would never work. How would he keep them at bay if they were chomping at the bit for mini-Leos?

Did Leo want that? Did he want a marriage and a big family? It hadn’t occurred to her to ask. All she’d wanted was to stay alive and not be violated or locked in a dungeon. The finer logistics hadn’t crossed her mind amidst the other mental noise. How long would he accept this lie before he wanted something real with someone?

He’d said he wouldn’t force her, but he must imagine someday she would willingly give in to him, especially in light of how she’d begun to relish their pretend kisses too much. He must know. What would he say when he found out she might not be able to have children? Would that be the end of everything?

And if she could have children, would she be forced to have them to keep up appearances with his demanding family?

The alternative was a “breakup.” But then what would happen? If he didn’t get rid of her, she’d be in the dungeon every Christmas for as long as he let her live. She couldn’t get the image of spiders and rats crawling over her out of her mind. Her apartment had the occasional rat problem. She’d woken more than once to find a disgusting rodent crawling over her. The memory made her shudder and hold onto Leo’s hand tighter as they made their way through the house, away from his mother but toward new dangers. Faith would rather have his babies—if she could—in a loveless pretend marriage, than spend any time in a dungeon with creepy crawlies.

When they reached the entryway, Demetri had already let the new guests in. This time, it was a larger swell of people. A few children—around eight or nine years old—already running around screaming and playing tag, a couple of women with Brooklyn accents, about forty-two necklaces layered on top of each other, too-painted faces, and big hair. Several men clung to the walls like malevolent gargoyles.