A Thousand Cuts (Underworld Kings)

Not quick enough.

If he was the mob boss he told me he was, there would be a gun near him, if not on his person. He wanted to marry me, not kill me. But I had no doubt in my mind that Cristian had taken a life. Many of them. And he would not hesitate ordering Felix to kill me if he wasn’t going to do it himself.

My stomach fluttered at the thought.

I stayed still, my mouth pressed shut. I could’ve argued with him, I supposed. Arguing all the points he just made would’ve made me look better, made this situation a lot more cut and dry. I was a hostage, and he was my captor.

But I wasn’t one to lie to make myself look better. If I tried, I’d make a fool of myself. He was right. Everything he fucking said. I did like the idea of giving in to all of my baser instincts. Living in a world where everything wrong with me was celebrated. Where I’d be powerful. Feared.

And I would let Cristian do whatever he wanted with me. Even right now, as my hatred for him burned through my skin like acid.

Cristian saw this, and if I tried to fight him, tried to act like the innocent victim, he’d see right through me. He’d respect me less too. Which I shouldn’t give a flying fuck about.

I didn’t argue.

Because he was right. About fucking everything.

“You have one month,” he said, watching me, as if he could read my thoughts.

“One month?” I repeated.

“One month to get right with the idea that you’re mine. While living here, of course.” His voice was silk. “After that, the wedding will be announced, and you’ll be expected to throw yourself in to this ... in every way.”

My stomach swirled, and my toes curled in my shoes. Whatever desire I had for this man should’ve died the very moment he threatened my friend and her child if I didn’t marry him. Yet my need not only continued to live inside of me, it fucking grew with every passing moment.

“You will get a weekly allowance,” he continued. “It will be more than adequate to outfit you in clothing fitting your station.” His eyes flickered over me. “Not that I’m suggesting what you’re wearing right now isn’t adequate. It is more than adequate.”

More toe curling.

There should have been less toe curling and more arguing. More panicking over the fact that a mafia boss was talking about me moving into his mansion and receiving an allowance, for fuck’s sake. It was sick. He was taking everything familiar from me, the home that had taken me years to perfect. The one I’d been standing in earlier this afternoon, hating. The man who I’d planned on marrying. The identity I’d crafted so carefully.

“But people expect more from me,” Cristian continued. “You will be seen. I want you in diamonds. In silk. In everything I know you want but you’re afraid to admit.”

I swallowed. He wasn’t just talking about diamonds and silk. As much as small parts of me wanted to reach out and take it—let him take me—there was still the rather large matter of my pride, and that Cristian was doing all of this under the threat of hurting my closest friends. Oh, and there was the fact that he was a mafia boss.

“You haven’t bought me, I don’t need an allowance,” I snarled, injecting venom into my voice.

“No, I didn’t buy you,” he agreed. “You are being used to settle a debt.”

“Do you make a habit of accepting human beings as debt payments?” I asked, my voice saccharine sweet.

Cristian didn’t answer me. I didn’t expect him to. It only caused my mind to go wild, wondering how many women had sat in this chair before me. How many women were in shallow graves across this sprawling property.

I could not be his first. Someone did not suddenly decide to accept a woman as payment for a debt. To force a woman into a marriage. Not someone like Cristian. He could’ve had his pick of willing women. But he didn’t want someone willing. That was too easy for the man who got everything through wealth, fear, power. He got off on this.

And even with the threat of impending death or lifelong imprisonment, I did too.

“I have something for you.” Cristian broke the silence between us.

“What? Some diamond handcuffs?” I taunted.

His eyes twinkled. “No, the handcuffs I’m going to use on you aren’t diamond. They’ll cut into your wrists so you’ll have marks for weeks.”

Holy. Fuck.

There was no time for a smart retort, nor was there time for me to chastise myself for having such a carnal response to the man I hated threatening to cuff me and do things that the sex in his voice promised, because he glanced down to a phone that I hadn’t noticed was sitting on his desk. I stayed quiet, watching him. My breathing was shallow, my hands still fists on my knees. I stared at the desk, my pussy throbbing. Yes, if he ordered me to, I would bend over just like I had this morning. In fact, he wouldn’t even have to order me.