Page 4 of Captured Obsession

My boss wants to test the Armanis’ resources andhow quickly they retaliate. I advised it was in his best interest to keep the blonde alive, avoiding torture. He wants intel on them, and I know without a doubt, this woman knows nothing. All he’ll learn is how long it takes for them to realize she’s missing and what kind of influence and manpower they can gain to get her back.

“If I were to offer you one suggestion, it would be to shut up, do as you're told, and kick back. Relax.”

“You're a fucking psychopath,” she bites back, and I dare say I’m slightly impressed she still has backbone. Most can’t even speak when I intentionally intimidate them. And it’s best for her to quiet into submission while in my care. It’s what will offer her the highest probability of walking away unscathed. “I don't know what you want with them, or anything about this bullshit you’re talking about them being part of the mafia, but it's pointless using me to get to them. My father will call the police, and you'll rot in prison for the rest of your life.”

My mood darkens with tempting thoughts of all the ways I can show this precious little doll how I've avoided being behind bars for so long already.

I stand and adjust the cuffs of my black shirt. “You can do as you like in your cage. Any items that can be used as a weapon or for inflicting self-harm have been removed. If you require anything, knock on the door, and one of my men will cater to your needs. I suggest you don't try to escape. I'm not particularly fond of having to use force against women, but make nomistake,mishka, it will be used if and when necessary.”

“How fucking dare you do this to me! I don't even know what Luca and Dmitri have to do with you, but this has nothing to do with me!”

I angle my head, really taking in the beautiful woman in front of me. Her makeup is smudged, black smearing beneath her bright-blue eyes, making her look more warrior than model. But it’s obvious from the way she holds herself, the way her nails are flawlessly manicured, in her glossy hair, and those legs that go on for days, even without heels, that she is a prim and proper beauty who has been polished to perfection. Sienna Falcone is a woman who has no clue she's been dancing on the outskirts of the underworld for years, only to be confronted by it now.

Maybe I'm the asshole for taking such pleasure in ruining her perfect little life.

“You really have no idea who your friends are, do you?” I ask.

It's only slightly, but her eyebrows pinch together as she tries not to give too much away. But her poker face isn't as good as she thinks. Especially when it’s in contrast to the way her chest rises and falls in panic. She's only ever had to train her appearance for polite society, whereas someone like me has trained it for survival. Every slight tell of her body is a weakness, and she’s none the wiser to the prey she’s become.

“What do my friends have to do with this?” shedemands, trying to take another step, but this time she wobbles, catching herself against the wall. I curl my hands into fists, fighting the urge to reach out and help her. No, I won’t be getting close to the target. I'm here on a job. This woman is a means to an end, and if she plays nicely, she'll go back to her perfect little life as promised.

“Perhaps I should start with Arabella Armani, wife to Luca Armani, who is head of the Italian mafia in New York.”

The remainder of the color in her face drains. Her lips kick up in a half smile so forced, it makes her look deranged. “That's ridiculous.”

I casually shrug. “I have no need to try to convince you. Shall we discuss Dmitri Volkov, then? The outcast son of a very prominent, recently murdered Bratva figure called The Lion?” This is the reason why my boss’s attention is on them in the first place. Not in revenge for the fallen Lion, but to succeed in where he failed—infiltrating New York and extending business there. The only way to do that is by overthrowing the Italian mafia or striking up a deal with them. “It might then come as a surprise to you that your friends Romi and Lily are dating members of the Italian mafia. The Moretti brothers both work for Luca Armani. Did you never question any strange happenings when it came to these people?”

My gaze narrows on the tears building in her eyes, even as her face twists to fight it. “You're full of shit!You might not want money from my father, but how dare you try to trick me into believing that my friends have lied to me. I demand you take me back home!”

A cruel smile graces my lips because I take satisfaction in enlightening people as to where they really are in life. Pulling back the curtain to look past the facade of everyone pretending like they have their shit together in what’s considered superficial norms. Nobody lives genuinely, and it seems like Sienna might be the type I despise the most—living a life that was handcrafted for her. She’s only ever known the splendor and riches of it, never having to earn it herself.

“And where is home for you, Sienna Falcone? You haven't taken up any permanent residence or accepted any modeling or acting gigs since returning to London. You are but a lost girl. Perhaps you should be thanking me for giving you time and a place that will help you reflect. Just play good little hostage, and you can treat this like a holiday.”

A visceral rage bubbles to the surface from within her, her neck turning a darker red as she seethes, “I might not have my life together right now, but I'm sure as hell not a piece of shit who kidnaps women for my own spiteful gain. At least I have a moral compass, and I'm a good fucking person.”

“I agree. The first error you made here is assuming that I have a moral compass,” I say as I walk toward the door. “Enjoy our hospitality, Miss Falcone.”

She reaches for the vase beside her that holds a bouquet of fresh sunflowers, and I close the door just before it crashes against it accompanied by her scream of anger and frustration.

I look to my left where my second in charge, Andrei, looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

“I think we might have our hands full with this one, sir,” Andrei says in Russian.

“She’s one woman, one babysitting task. Make sure no one enters, except me and Agata. Ensure the mess she makes destroying that room is cleaned up. I don’t want her doing anything stupid on my watch.”

I’m not accustomed to women’s emotions. But I do know they’re unpredictable creatures. So, the tighter the chain, the less she should be able to wriggle and create problems.

3

SIENNA

My chest rises and falls rapidly, my breath coming in short, harsh pants. My hands are trembling as I look over at the mess I just made. I immediately walk over to the door and grab the handle, but when I try to open it, I realize it's locked.

“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair as my gaze scans the room. It doesn't look like a prison at all. It’s actually quite luxuriously appointed.

Fuck. What do I do?

I still feel drowsy, and like I’m minutes from falling into a heap on the floor. No. I can’t break down. Iwon’tbreak down. This is just a bad nightmare. One that I’ll figure out how to get out of.