Stalk Me: A Dark Mafia Romance (Beautiful Monsters Book 1) by Bianca Cole

Author:Bianca Cole [Cole, Bianca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

20

SOFIA

My head throbs as consciousness returns. The room spins, making my stomach lurch as I push myself up. This isn’t my bed. The mattress is too soft, the linens too fine.

Memory hits like a sledgehammer—Nikolai’s face, the needle, the betrayal. My hands shake as I touch my neck, where he injected me.

“You bastard!” The words tear from my throat as I leap from the bed, nearly falling as my legs wobble beneath me. The room is luxurious, decorated in all cream and gold, with heavy drapes blocking what must be windows. A prison, no matter how gilded.

I stagger to the door, testing the handle. Locked, of course. Rage burns through the lingering effects of whatever drug he used on me.

“Let me out!” I slam my palm against the solid wood. “Nikolai! Open this door right now!”

My fists pound against the door as I scream. “You can’t keep me here! This is kidnapping, you psychopath!”

The silence that greets my shouts only fuels my fury. I kick the door, ignoring the pain that shoots through my bare foot. “I trusted you! And this is what you do? Drug me and lock me up?”

My throat burns, but I can’t stop. Won’t stop. “I’ll never forgive you for this! Never!”

I ram my shoulder into the door, knowing it’s futile but needing to fight. The impact sends pain radiating down my arm. “You’re just like all the others—thinking you can control me, own me!”

Tears of rage and betrayal stream down my face as I continue my assault on the door. “I hate you! Do you hear me, Nikolai? I hate you!”

My voice cracks, and I slide down the door, my energy draining as quickly as it came. But I won’t give up. Won’t let him win.

“Let. Me. Out.” Each word is punctuated by another bang of my fist against the wood.

The lock clicks and I spring to my feet and back from the door, muscles coiling. Nikolai’s massive frame fills the doorway, his steel eyes watching me with that infuriating calm.

“You’re awake.” His voice is soft and controlled. “Good. We need to⁠—”

I launch myself at him, fists flying. My knuckles connect with his jaw, but he barely flinches. When I aim for his throat, he catches my wrist in an iron grip.

“Stop.” The command in his voice only feeds my rage.

I kick at his knee and twist to break his hold, but he’s too strong. Every move I make, he counters effortlessly, like he’s dealing with a child having a tantrum.

“People are trying to kill you, malishka. The Castellanos⁠—”

“Don’t call me that!” I wrench away from him, stumbling back. “The only threat to me is you! Breaking into my apartment, watching me, drugging me⁠—”

“Listen to me.” He steps forward, hands raised. “Your adoption records were sealed for a reason. I told you at the gallery, your real parents⁠—”

“Shut up!” I grab a crystal vase from the nearest table and hurl it at his head. He ducks, and it shatters against the wall. “I don’t want to hear your excuses!”

“This isn’t about excuses.

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