Betrayed, Then Claimed by the Mafia King (18+)

Carter Ricci

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I stride into the meeting room with the calm precision of someone who owns the world. The Russian capo stands the moment I walk in, nodding sharply in respect, his crew following suit. I take the head of the table without a word, the authority I exude making it clear that I don't need to say anything to command their obedience. They all sit after me, not a sound in the room except for the soft rustle of suits. I wave for them to begin speaking.

The talk turns quickly to business, shipments, weapons, drugs, and the control of territory in Sicily. They want more. They want to control everything, spread their influence into my city. Greedy fucks.

"No," I say, my voice like ice, cutting through the room with ease. "Sicily is mine. No territory will be sold or shared with the Russians. Not now, not ever. You think you can move in here and take what's mine, like some street-level punks?" I lean forward, the cold fury in my eyes making their leader falter. "I run this city. And no one fucks with that. Not you, not anyone."

The leader speaks up, his Russian accent thick, his tone defensive, like he's trying to backpedal now that he sees where this is going. "We could make a deal, Ricci," he says, his voice unsteady. "You don't need all of Sicily. We can share the territory. We..."

I don't let him finish. I stand up in one smooth motion, pull out my gun, and in a flash, I fire, the bullet slamming into the Russian leader's forehead. His body crumples to the floor with a sickening thud, blood splattering across the table like a painter's mistake. The room falls silent, every fucking man there frozen in shock. I stand still, watching as the blood pools beneath the leader's body, making sure they know who's in charge here.

The other men take a step back, eyes wide, fear replacing their cocky grins. Their bravado is gone now, replaced by a quiet understanding that I'm not fucking around.

I lower the gun, my gaze never leaving them. "Sicily is mine," I repeat, my voice steady but cold, as if there's no question. "There's no negotiation here. This is my empire, and you don't get to play in my yard."

The tension is thick in the room. They hesitate, but they all know the same thing: they're out of options. It's not a question of if they'll bow to me, it's when. And it's now.

I nod to Nikolai, who immediately moves to the side and places the signed contracts in front of them. The Russians know better than to argue. They scribble their names on the papers without another word, eager to get the fuck out of there and away from me.

I watch them, smirking as they rush to leave, heads bowed, desperate to escape my wrath. I let them go, knowing full well they'll think twice before trying anything in my city again. The minute they step out, I return to my seat, the weight of my power settling comfortably over me.

I take a long sip of whiskey, watching the last man scurry out the door. The room is still, the air thick with the residue of power. I lean back in my chair, my gaze drifting over to the high window. I wonder if Rose is thinking about me right now. I can almost feel her presence lingering in the back of my mind, her scent, the way she looks at me with that quiet vulnerability.

I shake my head, clearing the thought. But it doesn't stop the gnawing feeling in my chest. I know one thing for sure: I'm keeping her, and no one's going to take her from me.

As I stare out over the city, I can't help but smirk again.

Sicily is mine, and so is she.

I turn away from the window, the weight of the meeting still lingering in my bones, and click on the monitor. The familiar security footage from the penthouse fills the screen, each angle perfectly visible. My eyes land on her immediately.

Rose.

She's exploring the living room downstairs, her small frame moving delicately through the space. Her curiosity is palpable, and I watch her carefully, intrigued by the way she runs her fingers over the furniture, the soft movements of her steps. The city lights outside reflect off the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting her in a glow that makes everything else fade into the background.

I watch as she approaches a heavy wooden door, her hand reaching out hesitantly. My finger twitches on the mouse, instinctively knowing she's about to touch something she shouldn't. I lean forward slightly, watching as her fingers trace the ornate handle. My gaze sharpens as she pauses, likely contemplating whether or not to defy the rules I set for her.

She pulls her hand back after a second, her expression unreadable, but I can see the curiosity burning behind her eyes. She wonders what's behind that door. What I'm keeping from her. She doesn't know that some things, some parts of me, are better left hidden.

She steps away, seemingly following my command to stay in the public areas of the penthouse. But I see the struggle in her, the way she can't help but wonder. She moves toward the library now, her fingers grazing the spines of the books. I smirk, knowing she's trying to distract herself, but also understanding the pull of the unknown that's consuming her.

Her fingers linger on a few leather-bound books. She's never been this close to them before, probably curious about the collection I keep there. She's tracing them, her eyes scanning the titles, probably wondering what's inside those books. It's all a game to her, isn't it? A game of finding the secrets I've tucked away.

I watch closely, leaning back in the chair, letting my thoughts drift for a moment. But then she steps closer to the locked door again. I see her hesitate, a flash of temptation in her eyes as she reaches out for the handle once more.

Don't touch it, Rose.

But she does anyway. Her fingers make contact with the cold brass again, the same look of rebellion flickering across her face. She's not going to listen, I can already tell. That curiosity is far too strong for her to ignore.

She wants to know what I'm hiding.

I sit back in my chair, a dark chuckle escaping me. It's almost adorable, the way she tries to fight the rules I set for her, even as she follows them. She's drawn to the danger, to the forbidden, just like I knew she would be.

But she won't find what she's looking for, not yet.

I watch as she pulls her hand back again, her face soft with frustration as she decides to leave the door behind. I shake my head, almost disappointed, but then again, I can't let her unravel too much, not all at once.

Not yet, Rose. Not yet.

She moves back toward the rest of the space, seemingly unaware that I'm still watching, her every move being absorbed by the lens. I make a mental note. Tonight, I'll take her somewhere else, somewhere that will keep her from thinking about the things she shouldn't. I need to keep her close, keep her curiosity tethered to me.

Because the more she seeks answers, the more she's bound to find herself drawn deeper into my world.