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Toro snorted. "Cut the dramatics."
The van purred on, taking Ollie farther and farther from the life he knew, and Toro lapsed into surly silence.
Ollie shut his eyes.
He'd always known that death was lurking around the corner, but he hadn't expected it to be like this. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening from the force of his grip.
He'd always known that he was going to die: either from the dangers of Mafia life, or from his father finding out the secret that he hid so desperately.
And the cruelest thing was that he'd never even acted on it. He'd never kissed another man. How could he, with a ruthless, cold-hearted father like his?
He'd dreamed about it--and that was all he'd ever done.
There was something undeniably pathetic about it all. Wishing for a different outcome, fantasizing about what might have been if he'd just had the chance to live life on his own terms...
If he'd just had one night of safety, of surrendering to the forbidden desires that haunted him.
The cold metal of the van's floor pressed against Ollie's bound wrists, sending shivers up his spine. Despite his fear, a deep pang of longing twisted in his chest, an ache for something he'd never known—never allowed himself to know.
A single stolen touch, a heated glance exchanged across a crowded room… those were the pitiful scraps he'd allowed himself over the years, trying to smother the fire that burned within.
Ollie was shaken from his misery by a sharp sound. Toro whistled for his attention. "Open your eyes."
"I'm not a dog," Ollie seethed.
"Yeah, I know. Dogs actually like me." He grinned that damned wolfish grin. "C'mon, don't fade out on me already. Ain't no fun in giving up. After all, if you want your daddy to pay for you, you've got to put on a nice big show for the camera."
"You're a bastard," Ollie seethed.
"Born and bred," Toro grinned. "Honor and a dollar will get you a cup of coffee."
"And you'd know all about living without honor, wouldn't you?" Ollie spat, the bitter taste of fear and humiliation curdling in his throat. "Goddamn Toscanos."
Toro raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile flitting across his wolfish face. He seemed almost impressed by Ollie's sudden burst of defiance, but there was still a predatory gleam in his eyes.
He leaned over and rustled Ollie's hair--and then that otherwise innocent gesture turned rough, his fingers knotting in Ollie's curls, holding him.
"Bold words for someone in your position," Toro murmured, sending shivers down Ollie's spine. "Maybe you've got some bite behind that bark."
He gave Ollie a little shake, and then dropped him. Ollie's heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline and terror fighting for control as he struggled to maintain his composure. He couldn't let Toro see how much he was affected by their proximity, by the sheer force of Toro's presence.
Toro was everything he'd secretly longed for, but never dared to hope for: a powerful man who could take control, make him feel something even as he dominated him completely.
It was just Ollie's luck that the scenario he'd dreamed about was turning out all wrong.
"Find out for yourself," Ollie whispered, his gaze locked onto Toro's, defiance burning like a beacon in the darkness of his soul. "Do your worst. I won't break."
He hoped it was true.
Chapter two
Boundtoachairin the dimly lit hideout, Ollie Petrov's heart raced.
He didn't know where Toro had taken him. The van had driven around for seemingly hours, and then Ollie had been dragged unceremoniously out of it and into… what?
An abandoned building? A slummy block of apartments? A warehouse? He hadn't got a good look at the outside, and even in the gloom, it hadn't looked like anyone was around to see his plight.
Tied to the chair, he watched Toro's every move. Fear rose up within him as his dangerous captor prepared for his next steps--whatever they were going to be.
