Page 10 of Blackmailed to the Altar

I tried the knob of the bedroom door, and was surprised to find it wasn’t locked. I crept into the hallway, checking every nook and cranny for Sebastian. I didn’t want to get killed by his hands if I wasn’t supposed to leave my room.

The smell of bacon wafted up the stairs, and I followed my nose.

I reached a small alcove that led into an open layout kitchen. I could see the cooks as they prepared breakfast, but I could also see the dining area in which everyone was already seated.

I turned around, as if to walk right back out the door, when Sebastian stopped me in my tracks.

“Come sit, Dr. Rivers.”

Eden’s head jumped up in surprise as she saw me standing before her.

“Mya!” She jumped out of her seat and ran to give me a hug.

“How are you doing, girly?” I stroked a hand down her back, trying to give her a modicum of love while I could.

Who knew the next time Sebastian would allow me out of my room.

“I’m alright,” she lied. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you, and make sure you’re making progress with some of the advanced techniques I showed you.”

She nodded before performing the SING defense movements. I wanted her to defend herself more, so a sick fuck like Darren didn’t hurt her again. It was a great way for her to let off steam as well.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Eden brought me back to our therapy session, dragging me out of my head. “Still doesn’t mean I trust it.”

“Expand on what you mean by that statement, Eden,” I implored.

“Well, because of everything that happened, I can’t help feeling like the other shoe is going to drop.” She hung her head.

“It’s natural to feel like that. Why don’t we explore some of these feelings in our next session.”

The table was deathly quiet, almost as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see if she would accept what I was saying. Eden nodded and walked back around the table, sitting down.

I went to follow, expecting to sit in the empty seat beside my patient, but Sebastian had other ideas. He snagged an arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap, while I tried to squirm away.

Eden looked at me in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew my brother-in-law.”

“I don’t,” I said dryly, more focused on our bodies touching against my will.

She sent a questioning look in my direction, and I flushed. I knew what it looked like, but I would not address it. I wasn’t certain what Sebastian thought he was doing, but it wouldn’t work.

Sebastian’s voice cut through the indistinct murmur of conversation, a commanding presence that immediately drew every eye in the room. I tried to get away from him, but he clamped down, forcing me to still.

A room full of Caputos. I’d barely had time to stand first before he stood at the head of the polished table, tapping the side of his glass with a butter knife, like he was toasting some grand achievement. He held out a gloved hand toward me and cleared his throat.

“I have an announcement to make.”

I looked toward him like everyone else, all the Caputos seated and watching us, curiosity and thinly veiled disdain on some of their faces. But of course, I was nothing like these Italian women. They probably knew nothing about a black woman like myself, top in her field, and, basically, a bad bitch. These people weren’t on the same level. He grinned down at me with something almost manic in his gaze.

“Mya and I are getting married,” he announced, with a gleeful smile and a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

My stomach twisted, a sinking feeling as he gauged his family’s reaction. I wouldn’t let them know he was blackmailing me. Not until I knew who could help. I straightened my spine, forcing my expression into one of calm indifference, like I was assessing a patient, rather than being paraded around like some kind of trophy. But inside, I was anything but calm.

There was a small silence before the room burst into a cacophony. Everyone tried speaking at once, but I think I was the loudest with my resounding, “Hell fucking no,” in response.

There was a brief, stunned silence, followed by a ripple of gasps and murmurs, voices overlapping in disbelief that I would dare speak to the Don this way. My breath hitched in my throat. My vision narrowed, the edges of my world blurring, as I felt every set of eyes shift toward me. Judging. Dissecting. It felt likebeing pinned under a microscope, like a bug they’d caught in their trap. Sebastian glared daggers at me, before grabbing my arm and wrenching me into another room, slamming the door behind us.

“Need I remind you that you’ve been kidnapped? You don’t have a fucking say,” he whispered in my face, his leather-covered hand gripping my cheeks forcefully.

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