“Listen, boss, if I could give it to you straight, you need to either let her go and let these guys know whose property she is. You can’t keep her locked up in a cage forever, and the second she walks out your door, she’s theirs.”

  Just the thought of someone claiming Serenity as their own makes my skin crawl, and the anger that I punched down before comes rushing back.

  “Jesus, fuck,” I mutter, taking another sip.

  Vecchio pulls out some paper and slides it to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a marriage license. Have her sign it, then, in, let’s say, a couple of weeks, you marry her. Lots of pictures and shit.”

  I look over the paper and wonder if Serenity will agree to this. She already took one deal. But this is different. The Donnellys won’t be as kind as I’m being. If you can call what I’m being as nice.

  I press my glass to my forehead as images flash of Serenity broken and bruised by the hands of the Donnelleys.

  Fuck, this just got more complicated.

  Serenity

  “Are you on birth control?” Dr. Stevenson asks.

  “Um, no,” I say, and she nods, taking note.

  I’ve been here for about half an hour, getting checked by the good doctor. Doing blood work and talking babies and shit.

  Dr. Stevenson is a very soft-spoken older woman with gorgeous blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. She’s been a nice change from Dante's tenseness and sexual confusion.

  “So you look pretty healthy. I’m going to recommend some supplements to you, and we’ll know more when we get your blood work back, but it looks like you’re ready to have a baby.” She smiles, and I wonder how much she knows.

  Dante said he trusts her, but how much information did he give her?

  “How much do you know about my situation?” I ask.

  She rips off her gloves and puts them in the trash. Holding her clipboard to her chest, she says, “I know that Mr. Salvatore has asked me to take good care of you and that you want to have a baby.”

  She steps forward and leans closer to me, “I know what he does. We go way back. I had some trouble years ago, and he helped me. Gave me this clinic, paid for my tuition.”

  “Why?” I can’t help but ask.

  She looks down and gives me a soft smile. “Perhaps that is a conversation you should have with Mr. Salvatore. I’m just the doctor. Just know that he is more than meets the eye, and his word is his bond. Trust me.”

  I walk out of the clinic more confused than when I walked in. I thought that Dante was an unfeeling albeit sexy mob boss, but now he’s a trustworthy, sort of feeling and sexy mob boss.

  Mateo opens the car that we took to get here. He’s been working overtime to do everything I ask. I guess Dante scared the hell out of him for not buying me clothes.

  The ones he got me are very nice. I slide my hands over the purple leggings that he bought. They are a little too tight, but I won’t complain. I don’t want him in any more trouble.

  The driver pulls out of the parking lot and we go east down West Sahara Avenue. I look around the car, the one I was dragged into two days ago. This time there is more room, and I’m not sandwiched between two giant men. Mateo sits in the passenger seat, and I’m alone in the back. I look up at the buttons on the ceiling. There are six white buttons with different symbols painted in black.

  I push the one that I think opens the sunroof, and it opens. The sky is revealed blue with white puffy clouds. Mateo turns around in his seat and looks at me with concern because he knows exactly what I’m going to do.

  I stand up and poke myself out of the sunroof.

  “Miss Brockman, get the hell down from there!” The wind drowns Mateo’s voice. I close my eyes and take in a big breath of fresh air. My hair is all over the place, and I’ve never been happier. I feel a sense of freedom wash over me. I open my eyes and watch as we drive through the city.

  I know this feeling is temporary because soon I'll be back in my cage, so I will enjoy it. I soak in every moment and put it in a bottle, keeping it as motivation. The plan is to try and find a way out. They are still probably looking for my father, and as much as I don’t want my father to be hurt or killed, he did this to himself.

  He left me to these men, and even if there is a small part of me that wants to trust Dante and believes that he won’t hurt me, I won’t rely on him. I’m not his pawn or his toy. He doesn’t own me. He wants me to crawl to him, but this bitch has been on her knees for years, and I won’t do it anymore. It’s time I grow a backbone, not let anyone push me around, and think of a plan to get me the fuck out of here. I owe it to myself. Even if it means going back on my deal with Dante.

  As we pull onto the highway, I sit back down and smile at a pale-faced Mateo.

  “What?” I lean back against the leather seat with a new sense of confidence about me.

  Mateo rolls his eyes and turns back to face the road.

  When we get back to the mansion, we walk into Dante’s suite and instead of walking to the room with the cage, I walk toward his bathroom.

  “Um, miss?” Mateo points to the cage.

  “I haven’t taken a shower in days. I want to bathe, and if Dante wants me in the cage, he can stick me in it himself.”

  I ignore Mateo and turn on the faucet, filling the tub with hot water. I hope Mateo doesn’t get in trouble with Dante, but I’m finding it hard to care right now. I feel gross, and I need this.

  I take a quick shower before slipping into the tub. It’s so warm, and instantly, I feel my muscles relaxing. I pick up a washcloth and run it over my skin, moaning from the pleasure.

  Leaning back, I place the cloth over my eyes, inhaling the vanilla-scented bath bomb I put in the tub. I feel myself drifting off to sleep, and the door bangs open and shut.

  I sit up, my body tensing, suddenly realizing how reckless this is. One breath of fresh air and I turn into a complete idiot. But then again, I’ve already talked back to Dante, and he hasn’t hurt me, so maybe I’ll be fine.

  A disheveled Dante with a glass of whiskey enters the room.

  “You are not where you’re supposed to be.” He points at me, slightly slurring his words.

  He’s drunk.

  Oh, great.

  Dante takes more steps into the bathroom, and with all his clothes on, shoes, jacket, and loose tie, he steps into the tub. I pull my knees to my chest as he sits, some of the water sloshing out of the tub.

  “You feeling okay?” I ask.

  Dante shrugs his shoulders but is otherwise silent. I catch a glimpse of chaos in his eyes. He’s unhappy about whatever happened today, and I feel a sense of fear hit me. I don't like Dante, and I don’t know how he is when drunk. Is he going to take his frustration out on me?

  Then images of being spun around and pounded from behind fill my mind, and I’m hurt my body is turned on by that. Being used like that.

  I take a soothing breath in and out and sink lower in the tub.

  Dante sips his drink and then says, “We’re getting married in two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say? Married. Why?” I grip the edges of the tub, the washcloth dropping into the water.

  “Because, Serenity,” he says, leaning forward slowly, bringing his face closer to mine. “The world needs to know you’re mine.”

  He leans back and finishes off his drink. Despite the gravely tone of his words, he’s smiling like a golden retriever.

  So he’s a cute drunk.

  “Are you sure this is not some drunken overreaction?” I ask.

  He nods, “Yep. I know it’s not because I already decided before I got drunk.”

  “And why are you drunk?”

  He looks up at the ceiling, seemingly thinking about my questions.

  “It’s been a rough day.”

  I half expect him, by his tone, to pull out a cigarette, but he just leans back in the tub and stares at the ceiling. I guess drinking is his vice of choice. That and probably murder, lying, and a bunch of other things, given his occupation.

  There are several beats of silence before Dante stands up, water cascading off him like a waterfall. He looks at himself and starts removing his clothes. A tie is thrown onto the floor, then his jacket, his button-up, and undershirt.

  He’s shirtless, and fuck me if he doesn’t look sexy. He smirks at me like he knows what I’m thinking and the way my body responds to him. This would be so much easier if my libido would just shut the fuck up.

  He goes to remove his pants, and my eyes widen. Halfway through, unfastening his tie, his brow lifts up, and he stops.

  “No. The only way you’re seeing my cock is after you beg for it.”

  “Don’t you want to have a baby with me?” I ask, confused.

  “I can always turn you around and fuck you from behind,” he says and steps out of the tub. “My cock isn’t for just anyone, Serenity.” He leans down and closes his hand around my throat. “It’s for those who earn it.”

  He releases me, and water trails behind him as he leaves. His wet clothes are still on the floor, and glass is left behind.

  I let go of the breath I didn’t notice I was holding. My body is tingling, and my hormones are all over the place. Then I remember what Dante said.

  We’re getting married in two weeks.

  And he says it is just like that. No questions, no offer. A fact.

  In two weeks, I’m going to be Dante Salvatore’s wife.

  Chapter 8

  Dante

  I tap on my desk, watching Serenity pacing the cage. After I told her we would be getting married, she’s been reticent. Every morning, I let her out, and we have a silent breakfast, and then at night, we have a silent dinner. I want to know what’s going on behind those pretty eyes.

  Is she planning something, or is she just going through the motions of accepting her fate?

  I have to know.

  Before I get up to see her, my phone buzzes.

  It’s Rico.

  “Hey, boss,” I hear after picking up. “We have some news on the Donnelleys.”

  “What is it?”

  “We found out that the reason they are looking for him is… well, Brockman kind of slept with one of the Donnelley’s wives.”

  “Jesus fuck.” I bolt out of my chair and start pacing.

  “Brockman’s gotten into a lot of shit,” I remark, and all I can think of how this is going to affect Serenity. How will the news that her father is an even bigger pig affect her? What does this mean for her safety? The Donnelleys aren’t going to just let this go.

  “Boss.” Rico’s voice pulls me out of my panic.

  I breathe and say coolly, “We have to deal with them.”

  I can imagine Rico nodding on the other end. Serenity has become my top concern. After all, soon, I’m going to knock her up. But it’s more than that. Even if she never has my baby, I still want her to be safe.

  Her father, on the other hand, I want to wrap my hands around his neck.

  I don’t know what her father’s fate will be, but the Donnelleys are going to have to go.

  “Get everyone ready, Rico. After I marry Serenity, the war begins. No one touches Serenity.”

  “Got it,” Rico says and hangs up.

  I put my phone down on my desk and then grip the edge. My nails curl into the wood as my knuckles turn white.

  It hits me in that moment of rage that Serenity and I have something in common. I thought we were on opposite ends of the spectrum. I am a bad man. Head of the Salvatore family. A mafia man made by a trial of fire. Serenity is an innocent waitress caught in the crossfire of her dad’s shitty decisions.

  And that’s true, but shitty dads are something we have in common. And maybe that will be the thing that connects us. An olive branch, so to speak. If I open up by talking about my father, perhaps it will cushion the blow that she will probably never leave me.

  I walk down the hall to my room, where I keep her. When I enter her room, she’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, staring at a book.

  I didn’t want her to get bored, so I got her some books. I'm not sure why. I guess I feel more for her than I thought—something that’s becoming more clear to me with every passing day.

  She looks up from her book only to look back down.

  “What do you want?” she says in a bored tone.

  I put my hands on the cool bars, peering in, looking at her frame. The way she is slouched over her book. The dress she’s wearing shows off parts of her legs but keeps her thighs hidden. Her hair is over her face, shadowing her from me.

  “Look at me,” I say, and her eyes lift up.

  She brushes her hand over her hair, revealing her whole face. Those fucking pouty lips and doe eyes.

  “What?” She shrugs.

  “I want to tell you a story.”

  “Oh, joy,” she says sarcastically but puts the book away and swings her legs over the bed.

  I get a chair and take a seat, settling with my legs apart and my hands on my knees.

  “I was born thirty-five years ago to a man who makes me look like a saint. Trust me, Serenity, this is the best version of me you could get. If it were my father…” A chill runs down my spine, and I don’t bother with the rest of that sentence. “His… brutal hands… ruined me. He taught me how to hurt people and that the ends justify any means. Always.”

  I’ve never talked about this with another person before. I choke the words out, unable to stop myself.

  “He hurt me, turned me into this. You’re not the only one with a shitty father.”

  I look up for the first time while telling this story and Serenity isn’t looking at me with pity but with empathy.

  “Some people really shouldn’t be parents, huh?”

  I chuckle, not with humor. “Yeah.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asks.

  I stand up and walk to the cage. She stands up as well and walks toward me. She’s so close I can smell her shampoo.

  Vanilla.

  “I’m telling you this because I want you to understand that sometimes in life we’re given shitty hands.”

  She looks at me with confusion, so I make a split decision to spit it out.

  “It turns out your father had an affair with the wife of a player in town. And they are not happy about it.”

  Serenity’s eyes close, and she grips onto the bars. I reach in and wrap my arms around her in a hug, the bars between us.

  Her hands reach through the bar and grip the lapels of my suit jacket. Her breathing picks up, and her body shakes as she silently cries.

  “Dante.” Her voice is but a whisper.

  I grip her chin, tipping her head back, and look into her teary eyes.

  “What is it, Bambola?” I murmur.

  She looks between my eyes and my lips, and I know what she’s thinking. I run my finger down her leg until I reach the hem of her dress.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, making no move to stop me.

  Dragging it, I lift until I can get between her legs. I cup her pussy, instantly feeling heat and groan.

  “Showing you what I can give you, Serenity,” I whisper.

  I can hear the thunder of my heart as I move her panties to the side and slide my finger between her soft folds, soaking with her arousal.

  “You like that, Serenity? You like what I’m doing to you?” I say, flicking her clit. “No, I know you like it. You’re soaking my fingers. Your mind may not have submitted to me, but your body has. I know that pussy of yours wants to see what I can give her. All you have to do is say yes, sir.”

  She gasps, and I sink two fingers deep inside her.

  She moans and screws her eyes shut. I wrap my arm tighter around her, holding her up as I finger fuck her. Wet sounds and panting echo in the room. My heel grinds against her clit as I rub my fingers across her G-spot.

  I feel her pussy clench around me, and she whimpers softly as her lips begin to rock.

  I can tell she’s getting close, and I pick up the pace. It’s an awkward position, but it’s working for her, so I don’t stop.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she chants until she gasps and throws her head back, coming all over my fingers, soaking them in her arousal.

  I keep rubbing until she’s too sensitive and pulls back.

  I whisper in her ear, “I could give you so much more if you would submit to me, Serenity. Know that.”

  “I’m never getting out of here, am I?” she asks with the sound of defeat in her voice.

  I pull back and tell her, “You’re not going anywhere, Serenity. For as long as I breathe, you’re mine, and I will do anything to keep you safe. Even if it means keeping you in this cage forever.”

  Chapter 9

  Serenity

  2 weeks later

  Sunlight shines through the window, and I groan into my pillow.

  That light only means one thing.

  It’s my wedding day.

  I wake up on my 16th day in the cage. Every day, Dante comes in the morning and lets me out for breakfast, only to put me back in afterward. Unless there’s somewhere I need to go, like a doctor's appointment.

  Every night, he says goodnight to me and always says the same thing:

  “Crawl to me.”

  He keeps the cage door open and tells me to crawl. And every time I say no.

  “You will,” he says and leaves me in my pretty prison.

  Part of me wants to give in. That part of me wants to explore the dark side. And a little bit just to see what he’ll do. What will be the worst thing that could happen?

  I know. I will lose myself. I will forget my plan to leave this place and give in. I can’t do that.

  The cage door rattles. Dante stands there in a dark suit and no tie.

  “Tanya will take care of you today,” he says, and I sense a touch of… remorse. Something like that before he turns away and leaves me.

  As I finish washing up, Tanya comes in, and together with Mateo, we head to the chapel. She is the first woman, other than my doctor, I have seen since I got here. Tanya is Frank’s wife, and Frank is part of Dante’s security team.