Page 108 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

It was utterly terrifying.

I’d seen psychotic men. My father was one, and my friend Violet’s men were all at least slightly unhinged.

But I’d never seen any of them look like Carlos did in that moment, talking about holding women in cages and torturing his wife’s lover like both were normal, everyday events that would take place before he had his morning coffee and carried on with his day.

I could practically feel the suffering in the room, despite it being empty. It hung in the dampness of the air, the screams silent now but somehow so loud at the same time.

His gaze ran over my body. “Take your clothes off, Nyah.”

I stared at him.

The look in his eyes said I could try to refuse but it would do me no good. That I could bend to his will and do as I was instructed.

Or that I would be forced to.

Slowly, with every muscle fiber in my body screaming that this was a bad idea, I removed garments until I was standing in nothing but my bra and panties. I prayed he wouldn’t notice the slight swell of my belly that was so noticeable to me now, who knew every lump and bump and curve, but hoped like hell it wasn’t to anyone who didn’t.

He crossed the room slowly and fit his fingers into the elastic at the side of my hip. He pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked the blade open.

It sliced through the material like it was butter.

The shredded panties fell to my feet.

He dragged the backside of the knife across my hip and up my stomach, the point stopping at the middle part of my bra that separated my breasts.

Carlos’s knife made short work of that too. My breasts fell free, and he pushed the straps off my arms, leaving me completely naked and vulnerable.

All I could do was stand there.

There was no one to hear me scream, even if I’d tried. Lynx might have tried to help me, if he’d been here, but he wasn’t on duty until the late afternoon. Dax would have for sure, but he had no idea what was going on. If Luca had been here, he probably would have been on his father’s side.

Carlos leaned in, inhaling the scent of my hair and circling around me slowly. “You smell so good, Nyah Matish.” His fingers trailed across my skin, along my lower back, then across the swell of my breasts as he made his way back to my front. “I can’t wait to watch these tits bounce while you’re on my cock.”

My skin crawled, and I fought the urge to run. I already knew I wouldn’t get far, so there was no point.

If Carlos wanted to degrade me like this, then he could.

He leaned in and licked my neck, until his mouth reached my ear. He paused there, breathing heavily, warm air misting over my lobe. “Do you think I enjoy watching you flirt with other men, Nyah?”

“I wasn’t—”

He pressed a finger to my lips, but it wasn’t a cute gesture. It was rough, his other fingers grasping my chin and digging in, his finger on my mouth bruising. “Shut up. I didn’t ask you to speak. You do enough of that.”

My chest rose and fell too fast, fear in my heart.

He knew about what had happened between me and Dax the night of the party. Or the night at the warehouse. Or hell, maybe he’d just seen the way my entire body gravitated toward his every time we were in the same room, in a way that I couldn’t control. That force had always been there between us, too strong to fight.

I’d known it from the first night I’d met Dax.

And I’d feel it ’til the day I died.

Which was starting to feel like it might be today. If it was, I couldn’t even bring myself to regret any of it. Because I’d had a man who loved me. Who’d worshipped my body and whose company I sought in every room.

Whose baby I carried now.

If I died here tonight, that would be my only regret. Taking this part of him to the grave with me.

Carlos stared down at me with more hate than lust in his eyes. “I have a question for you. Would you rather be my princess or MacGregor’s slut?”