Captive Sin: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mafia Kings Book 2) by Bella King

Author:Bella King [King, Bella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: After Midnight
Published: 2020-08-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Sonia

I hate the way he belittles me, but I love the feeling that surges through me when he starts to get angry. It’s a double-edged sword, making my tummy swirl with butterflies and my brain melt in my head. I’m like a goddamn addict for his aggression, and I find myself pushing him just to get more.

I know he likes it too. How can he not when his cock triples in size every time I piss him off?

I lick my lips as our car rolls to a stop in front of a small motel off some forgotten road in the middle of nowhere. It’s the perfect place for us to hide out, but like the basement at the outpost, it offers me no escape from Ivan.

Not that I want to escape him. It just means we’re stuck together like glue for however long we’re staying here.

“I’ll get a room, and then I want to get you some proper clothes,” Ivan says as he parks the car.

“I kind of like yours,” I tell him, running my fingers over the patterned fabric of the oversized shirt I’m wearing.

He shakes his head. “You’re not running around in that for the next few weeks. You need to wear something normal. The less suspicion we arouse, the better.”

That’s fair. I wonder if Ivan knew that I was half-joking about staying in his clothes. They smell damn good, but they’re way too big for me, and it’s pretty hot out here in Nevada this time of year. I’ll sweat up a storm if I keep these on.

“Okay, stay out here and watch the car. I’ll pay for the room, and then we’ll dump this piece of junk and buy another one,” he explains, straightening his collar and looking toward the motel entrance.

“Got it,” I reply, clicking my feet together and standing at attention like a soldier guarding her outpost.

“Good girl,” he says with a crooked smile. He walks into the motel, leaving me out in the early morning heat to watch over our car.

It’s not such a piece of junk. It’s a rather nice car.

I walk around it, running my fingers over the glossy black paint, admiring the sharpness of the vehicle’s body. It’s a bit like Ivan – stiff, sturdy, and a tad old-fashioned, but I like it that way. There’s a comfort to the rigidness, safety in its hard exterior when I know that the inside is full of soft, warm leather.

I freeze as I reach the back. There’s a bullet hole there, tearing into the metal and punching into the trunk of the car. It’s small but aggressive, not unlike me, and just looking at it seals in an awful truth that I’ve been unwilling to admit to myself since leaving my father’s estate – He would rather see me dead than free.

I run my finger over the curled metal of the hole, feeling the harsh reality of the death sentence my father has given to me. He’s never been on my side.

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