Cruel Mercy (Dark Mafia)

“Like hell you will,” he said sharply. But when I looked at him, he was utterly calm. He took another swig of his drink and went to refill it.

“Excuse me?” I said to his absurdly broad back. I ignored the way he looked in his suit. It was cut to perfection, showing off his ridiculously well proportioned body. None of that mattered though. He was a jerk. Even if he was a Margarelli, I hated him!

“I said, ‘like hell you will’,” he said, turning slowly to look at me as he took another swig of his drink. “You aren’t going anywhere without my express approval.”

“I am not sure if it is the alcohol that makes you think you can tell me what to do,” I started. He held up his hand as more food arrived. He sat and gestured for me to continue as soon as the server had left.

“Please, go on. I haven’t had a proper dressing down in years.”

“You…” I blustered, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of my sails. How could he be this arrogant? This… awful?

This unbearably handsome?

Something about his smirk, combined with the intense look in his eyes, did something to my insides. Twisted me up. I wanted to take him down a peg. But I also wanted to impress him.

I wanted him to like me. Maybe more than like. I caught him looking at my lips and a shiver went down my spine.

Definitely more than like.

I wanted him to want me. Praise me. Love me even. Even though I had no idea where that had come from.

And I hated that about myself.

Fat chance, girl. That man despised you on sight. Maybe you remind him of someone. Or maybe you are just too ordinary. Too innocent.

He probably likes women who pour themselves into skin tight dresses and sky high heels. And that was not me. I didn’t think it ever would be.

So, all I had to do was ignore my impossible, annoying, frustrating crush and focus on getting as far away from Michael Margarelli as humanly possible.

Easy, right?

“I promised to look after you, and I always keep my promises.”

“I am not your responsibility,” I shot back, horrified by the prospect of this man acting like a stern father for the rest of the semester. Or longer. I couldn’t bear it. My heart could not bear it.

“Oh, unfortunately for you, sweetheart, you are,” he said with a shark like smile. He finished his drink and got another. He barely touched his food. When he sat down again he continued speaking. “From now on you will have a guard with you. I will approve your schedule, in advance. I am not just talking about your classes. I am talking about coffee dates. Trips to the library. Doctors.”

“The gym?” I choked out, trying to make a joke.

“You will not leave to go to the gym,” he said, tilting his head to look at me. “We have one here.”

“I like to swim.”

“We have a pool.”

“What?”

“It is in the basement. It is small but it has a current machine.”

“Am I permitted to go outside for sunshine? To breath?” I asked, my ire growing by the second. I had already been trapped. I would not be trapped again.

“We have a courtyard. And a roof deck. But I would prefer you did not go up there,” he added, sounding almost bored.

“Anything else? Do you want to pick out my nighties for me?”

“No,” he said, with a heated look. “Not yet. But I will approve your wardrobe before you leave. We may need to take you shopping,” he mused to himself, looking me over. I felt like I was naked, the way his eyes travelled leisurely over my chest to my waist. I had no doubt that if I was standing, he would have looked over the rest of me!

“Not yet?” I asked, confused and humiliated.

He just smiled.

“I am sorry. I have lost my appetite,” I said to the startled young man who was carrying yet more plates into the dining room. I tossed my napkin on the table. I turned to leave, my back stiff and straight.

“I will see you for breakfast at eight.”

I paused, my fists clenching, He was a mad man. A monster! I hadn’t left a prison, I’d simply found a new one!

One with a cruel, stern, master at the helm!

“Is that all, master?” I asked without turning.

“For now,” he said. I could tell he was not in the least bit concerned about upsetting me. “Goodnight, Theresa.”

“It’s Terri,” I tossed over my shoulder as I left the room. I barely heard his answering chuckle and taunting words.

“Goodnight, Terri.”

Chapter Seven

Michael

I glared at the clock, willing it to move faster. Tick tick tick. Tock.

I’d stared at the ceiling all night. I had barely slept, even with the copious amount of bourbon I had consumed. I was pent up, tense, and stressed.