Page 22 of Blackmailed to the Altar

This was the second time I’d referred to Dr. Mya that way.

He clawed at my hand, trying to pry it off his neck. I released him only so he could give me a rational response.

“N-only a few seconds. I swear to god.”

“You don’t have to swear to him. I believe you.” I patted his cheek, showing a little comfort.

“T-thank you.” His shoulders sagged in relief. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to lay eyes on her. I just wanted to see what you were up to. Once I realized, I left.”

His explanation mollified me, but only for a second. He still saw my woman in a way no other man but me, and by extension, Sebastian, should.

“Don’t worry, baby brother.” I kissed both his cheeks.

I shoved him down the steps, enjoying the satisfying thud of his body hitting the cold concrete. He scrambled up, wide-eyed and furious, but all I did was smile. I slammed the heavy door shut, locking him inside with the finality that sent a coherent message: playtime was over.

“Consider this your lesson, brother,” I called through the door, my voice echoing in the damp darkness. “Disrespect me again, and next time, you won’t be walking out.”

I turned away, the sound of Silas’ shouts muffled by the thick walls. I walked back up the steps, whistling happily as I headed to my firecracker’s room, each stride fueled by the fire that Sebastian could never quite control. Tonight, I’d reminded Silas, and everyone else, that Riccardo was in charge.

And it felt damn good.

CHAPTER NINE

Dr. Mya

Wake up! An intuitive part of my brain woke me from a dead sleep. I blinked my eyes in the dark, trying to figure out what had woken me. I felt like someone was staring at me from across the room.

I reached over to turn on the light and gasped. Sebastian was in the room with me. He was sitting in a chair across from my bed, staring at me with his dark hooded eyes, but something was wrong… off.

“Sebastian?” I whispered. I didn’t want to wake up the household with my screaming.

“No,tesoro.” It was said with Sebastian’s mouth, but the voice was crueler, dripping with an edge that set every nerve on fire.

I ignored his strange answer for the moment. “W-what are y-you doing in m-my room?” I stuttered.

“Watching you.” His answer made me shudder.

I pulled the sheets up to my chin, realizing I was in a soft nightie that showed more of my chest than I was comfortable with.

He watched me everywhere. I couldn’t get away from his cameras. The echo of Eden’s trauma ran through my mind.

She’d been stalked by her now husband, Silas, in university. I felt like his brother was cut from the same cloth.

“S-Sebastian? I-if you wanted to talk, maybe we could do it later in the day when we both use the office?” I knew I should be firm, but his silence was scaring me.

“Don’t call me that.” He leaned forward, and it was so menacing, I leaned as far away from his aura as I could.

“C-call you what? Your name?” I had gotten little sleep, and I was confused. Was there a nickname he felt more comfortable with?

“That’s not my name.” He stood and strolled to the bed.

I sunk deeper in the sheets, scared shitless by his intimidating nature. I wasn’t one to cuss, but on an occasion like this, I couldn’t help myself, even if it was only in my mind.

“W-what’s your name?” My voice grew smaller and smaller, until he was all but on top of me in the bed.

He towered over my frame, his scars on full display, and no gloves in sight, making me feel petite. Like prey he was going to gobble up.

“You can call me Riccardo,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, each word precise, like a knife sliding across my throat.

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