Indebted to the Mafia King

*Tatiana*

Okay, fuck, that does sound like a genuine threat.

He's definitely not new to any of this, and he's used to stubborn people like me. He's probably faced worse in his years in the mafia, assuming he's from another syndicate. Judging by the way his eyes are hungry for information, I doubt he's just a normal person Oleg owes money to or had a bad business deal with.

Lev taught me how to hold on during an interrogation as long as I could in several of our lessons in the past, but he never really tortured me while doing so. How am I supposed to act when the real deal is actually happening? I thought I was prepared for this, but maybe I'm not?

Am I ready for this man to cut my skin, hold my head under water, pull my nails out of my fingers, and all the dreadful things these people are known for doing? How long until I break?

Panic creeps through me again, and I realize I need a plan B before I lose the grip on my self-control and have to start pleading for my life. I don't wanna beg, but who knows how I'll react once he actually starts forcing the words out of my mouth?

"I don't know what you think you can get from me, but you took the wrong person," I finally say, watching his brows shoot up with curiosity.

"Ah, so you do speak..." he muses, the grin on his face widening as he returns to his standing position. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but you might want to try a different approach because everyone says the same thing once they're tied to that chair," he explains, gesturing with his head to where I'm seated.

"You should have done your research better," I retort, doing my best to keep my voice calm and steady. But the way he looks at me makes it hard for me to focus. How is it fair that an evil man is so fucking handsome, even in the shadows? "If you had done that, you'd know I'm telling the truth."

He narrows his stunning eyes at me, considering my words. "Right, you want me to believe that you were running around in a wedding dress, escaping from a mafia wedding ceremony, because you, what... ended up there by accident?"noveldrama

I sneer, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at him. "Who said I was in a wedding dress? You took me out of an alley in the middle of New York City wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Does this outfit look like something a mafia bride would wear?" I ask, knowing he won't buy my bluffing, but just spitting out whatever I can think of to buy my brain some time to come up with another way out of here. This whole place is a fucking prison cell. How am I supposed to run from here without being caught by possibly hundreds of men waiting outside? Not to mention getting past this guy....

Besides, I'd have to get him to untie me first. At least that way, I'd be able to try and fight instead of just sitting here, waiting for death to come and claim me. Because that's what will happen to me once he realizes I'm of no use to him. "Very funny," he murmurs, huffing and cracking his knuckles in annoyance.

An idea comes to mind, and even though it makes me feel ashamed to have only thought of something as lame as this, I'm not in a situation to be picky. It's not like I have any options either. I need to fight with what I have, and right now, it's the only thing my mind can come up with in a moment of desperation.

"Listen, I know there's no way for me to get out of here, not alive and not before telling you what you want to know, but I really need to pee," I tell him, trying to press my legs together, pretending I'm desperate. Which I am, but for different reasons. It doesn't help to be under his intense gaze like this. Now's not the time for that, though.

I need to survive, not surrender to my hormones and dirty thoughts. Especially not with someone who will kill me in the blink of an eye. Someone who kidnapped me and knocked me unconscious.

He snorts, smirking at me. "Couldn't you have thought of something better than that?" he asks, not buying my bluff as predicted.

"I'm serious," I argue, contorting in my seat. "Unless you want me to pee in my pants while you interrogate me, could you please let me use the bathroom? It's not like I can escape from there either," I lie, hoping he buys it this time. I do my best to use the female charm I like to think I have, but his face doesn't crack, not even for a second. "Please," I plead. "I will tell you what you want to know when I'm done, I promise."

He tilts his head up to the ceiling, tapping a finger against his jaw, debating if my word means anything in this screwed up world he lives in.

I'm about to accept that my plan B sucks as much as plan A did, but eventually, he sighs and takes a step toward me, squatting down in front of me, his hands reaching for my ankles.

I swallow hard at his proximity and how my intrusive thoughts imagine him kneeling in front of me for completely different reasons.

"Let me just warn you, if you try anything, anything at all once I release you, I won't hold back, hear me? There are more men outside of that door than you could possibly count, so I'd think very carefully if I were you before doing something stupid. I'm being generous. I don't give a fuck if you piss yourself. Got it?"

My left leg is released, and I feel the blood returning to my foot, slowly reanimating it.

I nod sharply at him, pretending I take his threat seriously.

I don't know if it's the submission I show-the way I bow my head and lower my gaze

in surrender or maybe he just really thinks I won't be so stupid as to try and escape him, fully confident of his capacity to put me down if I do something-but he unties me almost as if I am a nuisance to him.

Once my hands are free, I take a deep breath, licking my lips before standing, being careful so as not to make any sharp movements that will cause him to contain me again before I have the chance to get away.

I feel his eyes on my back, and when he moves to stand beside me, I launch a punch straight to his face.

However, no matter how fast I am, he dodges the attack, gripping my fist with only one hand. He does it so effortlessly that I have no time to even react before that fucking smirk appears on his face once again, and he's manhandling me, but his creased brows show me how pissed off he is by my attempt.

"Bad move," he murmurs in a deadly rumble.

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I can't back down now, though. I've come too far.

With that thought in mind, I use my other hand to punch him in the ribs, which he doesn't see coming since his eyes are on my face.

Only a grunt escapes his throat as he tightens his grip on my hand.

I use my last resource, raising my knee to his groin, this time managing to have him bend over, groaning in pain.

"Bitch..." I hear him murmur behind me, but I'm already at the door, so I don't dare to look back and see if he's going to be able to catch up to me.

When my fingers wrap around the doorknob, I'm swept off my feet and fall to the ground, my back slamming into the cold, concrete floor, causing my lungs to give out for a second, stars filling my field of vision.

I try to inhale and fail, wishing I could catch my breath. His body pins me down to the floor, his weight forcing me to remain still. Not that I'd dare do anything else now because I can barely think with him on top of me and it has nothing to do with the lack of air in my lungs or the darkness clouding the edges of my vision.

An intense heat gathers deep inside of me, and a groan escapes my lips that is only partially due to the pain in my head and back.

His eyes roam my face with a mix of hatred and something else, something deeper that I can't put my finger on.

I'm sure my face must be reflecting something just as confusing because he narrows

his gaze and frowns as if he is just as confused as I am about how our bodies are reacting to one another.

What the fuck is going on here?