Page 11 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

The door slammed shut, leaving me in an eerie silence. My terrifying fate was sealed.

He dropped his head back against the chair with his eyes closed and exhaled smoke towards the ceiling. I could hear my pulse thundering in my ears so loudly that I didn’t know how he couldn’t hear it too. I lowered my chin to my chest and rested my forehead on my knees, my arms still locked tightly around them. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice me. If I stayed like this, if I didn’t move a single muscle until he fell asleep, I might make it through the night in one piece.

I wasn’t so lucky. The sudden sound of his heavy boots on the stone floor as he stormed towards me made my breath hitch, and my body freeze. My heart raced with every footstep. I couldn’t look up. I didn’t want to meet the sharp, menacing glare that I felt raising the hairs on my body.

Instead, I focused on what I could control. My fear. I fought against it, twisting it into something else. Something that wouldn’t give him any satisfaction. Whatever he was about to do to me… hurt me, rape me, kill me… he’d never truly get what he wanted, what all men like him wanted. The power to break me.

I’d never let that happen. I was a Buccini. We didn’t break; we endured.

A tattooed, bloodstained hand gripped my jaw, forcing me to face him. The moment his skin touched mine, a strange, searing sensation spread through my body. McKenna’s men had grabbed, shoved and groped me for the past twenty-four hours, but none of their touches had the same effect.

I stared into black, cold eyes. Not cruel… worse than that. Empty. His irises were so dark that it was hard to distinguish them from his pupils, which only made him look soulless… like something unnatural, born from the depths of hell.

I drew in a slow breath, steadying myself, trying to convince my pulse to calm down at the sight of his tense square jaw, chiselled cheekbones and hard mouth set in a permanent scowl, as if he’d forgotten it could do anything else. He even had tattoos on his face, a small cross under one eye that almost looked like a teardrop, and a rose in front of his ear.

His fingers dug into my jaw, harsh and insistent, forcing my lips to part, yet I didn’t flinch. His nostrils flared as his gaze drifted over my face in unhurried appraisal. His dark eyes traced the curve of my cheek, the lines of my lips and the small scar beneath my eyebrow, sending heat crawling beneath my skin.

I let him study me, take his fill, as he contemplated his next move. There was no doubt in my mind that this man was pure violence, packed tight beneath his skin. If he killed me, it was likely no one would ever find my body.

Then he did something that made my heart flip. He leaned in, tilting his head slightly and inhaling my scent like a feral animal. The act was so primal that it sent a shiver down my spine, but I forced myself not to react, not to give him any excuse to pounce.

He let go of my face and stood up, glaring down at me as if my very existence were pissing him off.

Si, stronzo, I’m not exactly thrilled to be here either.

I held his gaze for a few more seconds, then lowered my chin to my knees and stared at his boots. Then they were gone.

I exhaled a shuddering breath as he disappeared into the back room. There was no door, so I could still see half his body as he stood at the sink, and the sound of running water filled the silence. The anticipation was crippling. Would he come back and kill me? Would he take a shower first? Eat dinner? Give me hope that I’d survive the night only to kill me as soon as the sun rose? I closed my eyes and thought of my family. I had to see them again. This couldn’t be it. I had to survive until they found a way to save me, because they would. All I had to do was hold on.

When he returned, I kept my eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to give him any reason to snap by looking at him. The bed groaned under his weight as he settled into position. He tossed and turned a few times, growling, before something was flung across the bunker and landed with a thump a few metres away from me. A pillow.

Was he offering it to me? That didn’t seem likely. Or was he just throwing pillows out of frustration? Again, weird. Was this a test? If I didn’t take the pillow, would he think me ungrateful? If I did, would he use it against me?

I decided the best course of action was to do nothing. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. He was going to sleep. He was leaving me alone. For now. Best not to remind him of my presence by reaching for it, no matter how much I longed to curl up and hug it to my chest to keep warm. I’d wait until he was fast asleep before I moved.

The temperature dropped as the night crawled by, and I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. Ireland was stupidly cold. I wouldn’t be surprised if I froze to death at this rate. I could see my breath in puffs, and it took everything I had to stop my teeth from chattering and waking him.

After what felt like hours, I let my gaze drift over to his bed. I found him lying on his back, one arm slung behind his head, and those black eyes locked on me.

My heart lurched.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just lay there in the darkness, staring.

His stillness was more unnerving. At first, I wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Then I saw the slow, controlled rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled soundlessly.

My stomach dropped. He wasn’t going to sleep. He was a hunter. His expression wasn’t anger or curiosity; it was calculation. The kind a predator wears when it’s already decided how this ends.

Sean locked me down here with him for a reason. As I held the terrifying stranger’s gaze in the dark, I realised he was waiting. Waiting for the reason I could only pray would never come.

There was one certainty. It was going to be a long night, and very possibly my last.

The sound of the steel door scraping across the stone jolted me awake. My head snapped up from the awkward angle it had been resting against the damp wall. When did I fall asleep?

My gaze darted to the bed to find the man still lying there, still watching me. He hadn’t moved.

My relief was short-lived when I saw the polished shoes of the Irish Boss step through the door. I looked up to find Sean smirking at me, his dark blue eyes filled only with malice and twisted curiosity.

“Good mornin’. You’re still alive. And…” Sean’s narrowed eyes swept over my body, searching for any harm. “...untouched. How interestin’,” he said, as if my life were the most amusing thing to him. His gaze shifted to the man on the bed, who regarded him with emotionless indifference. “Monster spared you. For now.”