While those were the men I liked to read and fantasize about, that wasn’t the kind of man I wanted in real life. I had what I wanted. The type of man who helped with dinner and did the dishes after. A man who asked what kind of movie I wanted to watch or how my day went. That was the best kind of man, even if my bodydesired the alpha assholes portrayed in those stories. My head and heart had never been on the same page. It was more like they were reading two different books that were probably written in two different languages. This was why I anticipated the moments when I could travel to the worlds in my mind—places where I could do whatever andwhoever I wanted.
There were no repercussions as they came inside me. I didn’t have to push a man into the closet to hide him from my husband. I only had to worry about being fucked all the right ways before I returned to the real world. My world was not a fairy tale. It wasn’t a dark romance novel. We existed in a cozy, small-town romance novel where the love scenes mostly faded to black. But it was comfortable.
I traced the dark cover, hovering over the well-dressed man clad in an expensive suit. Beneath the fabric waited a man so muscled and handsome it was hard to believe he existed in the real world. The man on the cover didn't merely live in the fantasy realm for all of us bored housewives. That person was somewhere, walking around and fucking women while looking likethat.I let out a frustrated groan.
Michael didn’t have a bad body. He was soft and round, but I still found him extremely attractive, and in some ways, even more so. If I could just unleash the animal locked away in the goddamn escape-proof room deep inside him, he’d be perfect. We’d be perfect.
The title showcased a deep purple font, my favorite color. Red would have been a better fit, butpurple on the cover was this author’s “thing.” I’d read enough of her books to spot her secret.
I wrapped a blanket around myself and began to read, drifting into the hostility of the mafia lifestyle. There was a finesse in the men I didn’t see anywhere else. An acceptance of brutality and murder. To have the hand of a man who could fuck you like no other around your throat. A man who had used that same hand to fire a bullet into the head of another man hours earlier. A firm touch that reminded you what he’s capable of. That he could kill you if he didn’t love to fuck you as much as he did.
I’d have allowed all of it.
I stared at my family, bound and gagged in a big building by the docks. The salt of the sea had ripped holes through the rusted metal, letting the sunlight through to crawl along the concrete floor. My father’s eyes widened as he thrashed against the ropes, tossing his thin gray hair over his forehead. My heart broke. None of this was supposed to happen. I fucked up. I should have been the one bound and gagged for my transgressions, not my family, but those motherfuckers were ruthless. This particular family had a reputation as the worst to work with, and I should have considered that. Sometimes desperation made you ask a favor of the devil and his spawn.
“Zoey, you sure took your sweet ass time getting here. I was just about to put a bullet through each of them out of principle,” came a low voice from behind me. Thegrittiness of his tone sent a painful shiver down my spine, yet it nestled into my pelvis. “I don’t like to have my time wasted.”
While gnawing at the inside of my lower lip, I turned to face Enzo. He had dark hair and tanned skin, which was what I expected of an Italian man like him. What I didn’t expect was the ice in his eyes—a bright blue that contradicted every dark part of his appearance.
“Let my family go.” I stared him down, my hip cocked. “Your issue is with me, not them!”
Enzo stepped forward, towering over me. “Those fuckers share your blood, which makes them a problem. Do you know how much money you cost me? I lost an entire shipment because of you.” His breath rolled over mine, smelling like tobacco and mint. “That pretty fuckin’ face of yours ain’t gonna save you.” His jaw clenched and his lips drew into a tight line.
I swallowed hard. His partially unbuttoned deep-purple dress shirt exposed a ribbed sleeveless t-shirt, and his tattoos peeked from beneath the fabric. Part of me longed to rip it open to see what else was hiding underneath.
Instead, I bit my tongue and lowered my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s no apologizing, babygirl.” His lips pouted before a grin crept across his face. He looked over at my family, still on their knees, then back at me. “How ‘bout this...” Enzo stepped into me and grabbed my chin with a rough grasp. I gasped at his touch. “If you let me do anything I want to your body”—his eyes roved downward—“I will consider letting them go.”
“Consider?” I gritted my teeth. “I’m not letting you do anything to me for a fucking consideration.”
Enzo laughed with a hint of the devil lingering in his voice. “It’s cute you think you canletme do anything.” He reached beneath my dress with a rough touch. “I can take you whether you want it or not, but I can assure you with utmost certainty that you will bury your entire family with your pussy still sore from what I will do to you.” He offered a sadistic smile.
Fuck you! And fuck your entire family!I wanted to yell the words toward him, but I screamed them in my mind instead. Even if he killed me and my family, he would sleep soundly that night and nothing I said would make an ounce of difference. When there was money on the line, that family stopped at nothing to come out on top. One way or another.
“Fine,” I whispered.
He cocked his head and grinned, cupping his ear. “What was that?”
“Fine! I said fine!” He may have been a cruel and barbaric man, but there was no denying his panty-melting looks. Even though there were worse people to sleep with, my lip curled with a deep-seated disgust.
“Attagirl,” he said as he wiped his chin and smirked.
Thatwas the look.
My father writhed against the restraints, trying to scream past the gag in his mouth. One of the men beside him punched him in the stomach, making him curl into himself and fall forward. He panted against the cloth in his mouth as if he wassuffocating.
“Go on, tell your pops,” Enzo said as he gestured toward my father.
I looked at him with wide eyes. My father clearly heard our seedy agreement, so I saw no reason to repeat it. “I—”
“Now!” he commanded. “Go tell your pops that you will be having your pussy ripped open by me tonight.”
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
He fisted my hair and dragged me toward my father as I fought against his grasp. With his hand still pulling at my scalp, he pushed his arm forward and forced my head closer to my father, who spoke wordlessly against the cloth in his mouth.
“Tell him. Tell him whose cock you’ll be choking on tonight.” His words were gritty as he fought my attempts to pull away from him.
