Page 25 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
I’ll sleep well tonight in that bed, knowing I’ll be her first, and I don’t care whom I’ll have to kill for me to be her last.
Chapter Six
Delilah
I can’t sleep.
How can I when Carmine’s body is so close to mine I can feel his heat? I can feel his breath against my skin with every exhale. The man is pure seduction wrapped in barbed wire, and I know if I get too close, he’ll cut me and make me bleed.
I look at the clock on the nightstand and see it’s only five in the morning. All I’ve done is toss and turn all night. I can’t stand it anymore. How am I supposed to be in his bed and fight the temptation he causes?
Turning over, I watch him sleep. Even resting, he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. His brows are furrowed, causing a wrinkle in his forehead, and his lips frown. Perhaps some sins can never sleep.
I scoot closer, tracing the scars with my eyes. Everywhere I look, there’s another. They are smooth, sharp, and vary in length. One travels from his collarbone, down his pec, and then his abdomen. I can’t see the rest because of the blanket.
I have so many questions, but I know he won’t answer them. He won’t answer anything I ask, but he expects me to answer all his questions. I don’t like it, and I’ll fight tooth and nail until we are on an equal playing field.
He’s handsome, annoyingly so. I don’t want to be attracted to him, but I am. I find myself wanting to get closer, wanting to get every story of every scar. I want to ease the wrinkle between his brow, and I want to kiss away the frown on his lips. He pulls me into his darkness without trying. He is overly possessive and arrogant.
So damn arrogant.
And I find it sexy.
What does that say about me?
Especially when he wants to keep me locked inside the house, barefoot and pregnant. That’s not okay with me. I won’t be a hostage. School isn’t mentioned in the contract. He might want to take everything from me, but I won’t let him take this.
A small part of me feels bad for deceiving him, but he’d deceive me, wouldn’t he? Without a blink of an eye. Without a second thought or glance.
Inching backward, I keep my eyes trained on his face to make sure he doesn’t wake. His black lashes flutter over his sculpted cheekbones, his eyes moving behind his lids as he dreams. For a split second, just one, I consider staying in this bed.
My butt hangs off the edge of the bed, and I’m about to roll away and make a run for the bathroom when his arm wraps around my waist and tugs me against his chest. I gasp, holding my breath as I feel his body against mine. His skin is warm, and he smells so good like a bonfire and whiskey rolled into one, and I know fire and alcohol combined are deadly.
But here I am, putting myself in harm’s way and becoming his target.
His arm around me is weighted like a blanket, and I feel safe. I stay there for a minute, letting his heat seep into me, his flaccid cock still huge in the confinement of his underwear as he presses against me. His lips find my forehead, kissing me gently before rolling over and giving me his back.
I cover my mouth when I see the scars. Tears prickle my eyes. There are so many; I can’t even see smooth skin. I want to reach out to comfort him, but I know he won’t take it well, especially after how he reacted when I saw him in the bathroom. So, touching them will be out of the question. Plus, I want to go to school, and I won’t be able to if I wake him up.
I take my time slipping out of bed, careful not to move too fast. Slow and steady, I ease the blanket down on the mattress and stand as soon as my feet hit the floor.
For a long moment, I don’t dare move. I wait. I watch to double-check he doesn’t wake or sense that I’m gone. After a few minutes, I tiptoe away from him, slip into the bathroom, and dodge into the closet.
Pressing a hand to my chest, I let out the breath I had been holding the entire time. My heart is racing, and I throw off the shirt I’m wearing. I snag a pair of comfortable leggings, an off-the-shoulder shirt and a tank top to wear underneath, then finish getting ready.
Looking in the mirror propped in the corner, I brush my hair and do a quick side braid before sliding on a pair of black flats. I wash my face with the faucet barely running so I don’t make any noise, brush my teeth, and just as I’m about to leave, I remember I don’t have my backpack.
I can borrow paper and a pencil until I can get my bag.
After slipping through the bathroom door, I tiptoe across the bedroom, pausing when I hear the bed squeak. Wincing, I turn to see if Carmine’s awake, but he’s flat on his back, arm over his face, sleeping soundly.
I pull open the double doors, wincing when the hinges creak.
I open them just enough to slip through then quietly hurry down the hall. I relax when I’m far away, knowing I left the wolf’s den without getting caught.
The entire house is dark, quiet, and eerie. It’s hard to believe a fortress like this knows how to rest. Walking down the stairs to the front door, I have a smug pep in my step. Did they not think I’d try to escape somehow? I mean, I’m coming back, but I’m going to fight for my freedom, no matter the cost.
“Going somewhere, Princess?”
