Page 35 of Savage Don's Captive

I try to ignore the fact that she’s basically naked. Sure, she’s wearing an oversized shirt, but I can see her nipples hardening underneath the thin fabric, reacting to the cold. And those shorts—cazzo. Don’t get me started with that scrap of fabric she’s wearing. It’s basically underwear, made of silk that clings to her thick ass curves like a second skin, so short that her ass cheeks peek through with every step she takes.

I want to carve Harold’s fucking eyeballs out with my thumbs for seeing her like this. That prick played hero, offering her shelter and food like some white knight when she belongs to me. Alessa’s mine—my captive, my property, my problem. No other man touches or even looks at what I own. Period.

Anyone who forgets that rule… bleeds.

“Don’t fucking push me, Alessa,” I warn, pulling her along with me toward my office. My fingers tighten around her arm, feeling the delicate bones beneath her skin. One twist and I could break her—but I need her whole. For now.

“Go fuck yourself!” She jerks her arm, trying to break free.

She’s cold to the touch, and when I saw her sitting in that kitchen, soaked to the bone and shivering like a stray mutt, I almost felt guilty.

Almost.

She just looked so pathetic, munching on those cheap scrambled eggs and drinking stale coffee, having lost weight after being confined without food for three days.

But fuck me… the horror in her eyes when she saw me?Porca Miseria. It felt like a knife to the gut. But business is business, and it doesn’t mix well with whatever twisted attraction I feel for her. Right now, Alessa is nothing but business. Once I have what I need from the Commission, maybe I’ll have some fun with her. At least I fucking hope I can.

I shove her into my office hard enough that she stumbles, but she catches herself before her face meets the floor. She’s weak, yet somehow, exhaustion looks fucking good on her.

“Sit the fuck down,” I order, and she drops into my chair, the leather creaking under her soaking clothes.

I walk to the cabinet in the back where I keep spare clothing. I grab a black shirt and a pair of boxers, hoping they’ll fit her. When I turn back, I catch her scanning the room, no doubt looking for an escape route. But she’ll have a bullet in her leg before she even makes it to the door.

“Get dressed,” I demand, throwing the clothes at her face. She glares at me like I’m Satan himself. There’s not a hint of submission in those green eyes, even after all those days without food. “Five minutes or I’m going to undress you myself, and trust me, piccola, you won’t like my methods.”

I turn to give her the privacy to change before she catches pneumonia. The last thing I need is a sick woman to babysit.

“Four minutes,” I call when I don’t hear her move. Still no sound of clothing. “I’m not fucking playing, Alessa. If you’re not dressed when I turn around, I’ll have TJ hold you down while I rip that shirt off your body.È chiaro?”

It must be hearing TJ’s name that finally gets her moving, because I hear the chair scrape as she stands. A smirk tugs at my lips as her wet clothes hit the floor with a slap. The sound of fabric rustling follows, but it’s her muttered curses that amuse me most.

“Two minutes.”

“You can calm your balls down, asshole.” Something wet hits my back. Did this bitch just throw her soaking clothes at me?

I spin around, fury burning through my veins like acid. My hands clench into fists at my sides, every muscle coiled tight with the urge to tear into her. She stands there, arms crossed over her chest, that defiant fire still blazing in her eyes.

“Do you know how much I could have lost with your little stunt?” I stalk toward her, closing the space between us.

“In case you don’t know it yet, Dominic,” she juts her chin forward, “I don’t give a shit. Not about you, not about the fucking Commission.”

“Well, you should. Because if you screw this up for me—“ I step over her wet clothes on the floor, ”—I’m going to fucking ruin you, Alessa. Very. Fucking. Slowly. And you’ll regret not telling me what I want to know.”

“I’m not scared of you, Dominic.” Her breath catches in her throat.

“You should be.”

“Well, do better, then,” she taunts, chin tilting up. “I mean, do you have any idea how easy it was to leave your safe house? If I hadn’t stopped running, I could have reached the city. And you know what I would have done then? Gone straight to the Commission and told them what they need without defiance, made sure you never get what you want.”

“You think you’re fucking smart, don’t you?” I lean in, resting my hands on the desk behind her, trapping her between my arms. Her scent—rain and fear mixed with that raw heat coming offher skin like honey and salt—hits me like a drug, making my cock stir. “So damn clever.”

“I’m not the one who lost my captive.” She meets my eyes, unflinching.

“And I’m not the one who stumbled into her captor’s club.” Her eyes widen as the pieces click into place. Dark satisfaction spreads through me. “That’s fucking right. I own this place. And Harold, who so kindly fed you and poured your coffee? He ratted you out the second you walked in.”

“I hate you,” she hisses, pupils dilating with rage.

“Once I get out of here, I’m going to be the worst thing that has ever happened to you.” Her voice quivers. “I will ruin everything you’ve ever worked for. I’ll watch your empire crumble, I’ll make your family bleed, and once I’m fucking done, I will bury you alive.”

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