Page 30 of Stolen Compliance

Bowing my head, I murmur, “Thank you. That’s quite the honor.”

My mind is reeling as I try to keep up with the information Sergio randomly dropped. I force myself to push it to the side, though. Right now, it’s too dangerous. Not that I give a fuck about Sergio, but the way Dominic is watching me? That is what I can’t fuck up.

Not every Boss is as strong as Il Padrone. It’s my luck that to make up for it, Sergio had to get a damn Second that is every bit as ruthless—and observant—as Allesandro. Fuck. And if that doesn’t explain my issues, I’m not sure what will.

Thankfully, the chatter dies down, and I’m finally dismissed. Of course, by then I’m about convinced that my lips are surgically going to be stitched to Sergio’s ass with the amount of bullshit I scooped his way. But if flattering him gets me out of here alive… Well, fuck it. I’ll do what I need to, even as I can feel the steady darkening of Dominic.

I glance at my watch, determining I’ve put in enough time today, and head toward my bedroom. I expect Dominic to veer off at some point, but he doesn’t. There’s an eerie, unsettling feeling of being prey… of being stalked. Far more than when he pisses me off by calling me bunny.

There’s nothing I can put my finger on, but I don’t bother saying a word to Dominic. The silence steadily builds between us, yet the distance rapidly disappears. By the time we’re at my door, he’s almost on top of me.

I turn around, facing him. With a cocky sneer of my own, I ask, “Did you plan on coming in?”

Chuckling darkly, Dominic steps right into my personal space, our bodies nearly touching. His fingers trail down my cheek, and I barely resist a shudder. Yet from the gleeful, wicked smile stretching across his face, he didn’t miss it.

“Hmm… I know what you want. But I can’t give it to you—yet. One of these days, though, you’ll be under me. Maybe even under Teo. I see the way you stare at him. The way you act like a faithful dog the moment Teo or I give instructions, like you’re trying to curry our favor.

“But, Luca, I know who you are inside. Just a little bunny. One that could be snapped up so quickly when you’re trying to play with the big dogs.”

Gritting my teeth, I lift my chin, glaring at him. “Fuck. You. You don’t know shit about me.”

“Perhaps. You’ve surprised me so far, but keep this in mind… Right now, you’re safe. Turn your back on us, mess up even once, and you’ll be put through so much pain you’ll be lucky if your mind is still intact. Your so-called Master survived. I don’t care what prep he put the rest of you through. I’ll take my odds against you. You’ll break.”

Dominic’s hand trails down to my neck, circling it, before applying just the barest pressure. I capture his arm, squeezing it, and he lets go with a laugh.

Turning, he walks away, calling over his shoulder, “Merry Christmas, little bunny… Merry Fucking Christmas.”

I wait until he turns the corner before I step inside my bedroom. While I lock the door, I know it won’t keep him out. Fuck. I don’t think anything will.

Both he and Teo are inside my head. And now, when I go to sleep, I’m sure both of them will turn up there as well. The only question is… are they what dreams are made of, or far more likely, are they going to be a new nightmare for me to live through?

Each day I’m here, there’s a strip of sanity that’s peeled off me. A hope for the future. A dream for what’s better. All slowly start to disappear.

And no matter how many times my hand caresses my phone, desperate to call Il Padrone, I manage to make myself stop.

He gave me this opportunity. I have to prove to him I’m worth it. That I’m equal.

But for now, these thoughts and questions—including Sergio’s vague comments—they all swirl together. There’s no festive cheer in me, but at least the homesickness passes. There’s no way to focus on that.

Not when the new year is coming, and hopefully a far brighter one, even if I suspect it will be spattered with the blood of this whole fucking family…

The New Year’s Eve party my sister throws at her favorite whorehouse is only marginally better than the sham of a Christmas party hosted by our father. Marginally. It’s still all airs and for show purposes mostly, but she makes a nice profit and it keeps her occupied so she’s not out giving Sergio reasons to marry her off without even the pretense letting her choose who she ends up with.

The day is coming, though. My father’s obsession with turning his principessa into the perfect mafia wife will come to a head soon enough, but if Kari wants to pretend she has any say in her future, well, who am I to crush her fantasies?

The VIP table we’re sitting at overlooks the main floor, where whores flit around the customers, flirting and vying for their attention with their scantily clothed bodies, each one aware of the clock ticking down, and the consequences they’ll face if they don’t have a client to give them a midnight kiss.

Luca looks about as enthusiastic to be here as I am, clutching his drink like it’s a lifeline. Dominic has disappeared to fuck knows where, probably watching us from the shadows like the asshole he is.

I don’t know what’s worse—when the fucker is right there and I can’t touch him, or when he’s not and I have no idea what he’s doing. At least you don’t have to worry about catching him with a whore.

No, Dominic’s brand of aggression and fuckery wouldn’t be welcome, even with the loose “rules” that surround our more seedy whorehouses. Can’t damage the goods after all, not when we need to make a profit off of them.

One of the whores I fucked sometime in the recent weeks sidles up to our table, flashing a bright grin and giving a wiggle of his hips to draw the eye down to his barely-covered dick.

“I see you don’t have any entertainment for the New Year,” he purrs.

I sip my drink, the smooth, expensive liquor going down my throat easily. I ignore the urge to down it like a cheap shot, knowing it’ll do nothing but give me regrets in the morning.