Using My Body For Blood

Greyson

"No. No. No. NO. NO!"
This shouldn't be happening. I didn't come back here for this. She needs to know I don't want this. I came back for... for what? I don't even know anymore, but it wasn't to become the leader.

This is my father's way of punishing me. He knows I want nothing to do with him, yet he names me as the new head of the Mafia. Olivia deserved this. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she moved—her body language spoke louder than any words.

Ah, her body. I may have fallen in love with her soul first, but now... her body captivates me more and more with every glance. If there's one language I wish to master, it's the language of her body. How she reacts to different tastes, smells, sounds, sights, and touches. I want to know how her muscles tense in her sleep, whether she sways differently to her favorite song. More than anything, I want to know how her body reacts to me. To influence it—no, to understand it.

Stop. I'm losing control. She's in my head more than I am.

I need to focus. Today, I take the helm, and first impressions matter. I sit here in my new chair, behind my new desk, in this new office. Cold. Foreign. It reeks of power I didn't ask for.

I have to observe training today.

She's there.

She's beautiful.

Olivia stands with a knife in hand, spinning it effortlessly between her fingers as she talks to the others. As I approach, her eyes find mine, and the room falls silent as everyone acknowledges my presence.

"As you all know, I've been promoted to leader," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Not much will be changing, but I'll be observing today."

My gaze lingers on Olivia, searching for a reaction. But her features remain impassive, controlled. The others disperse, returning to their training.

I stay, watching her.

Her fingers, delicate yet strong, twirl the blade with practiced ease before throwing it. Bullseye. Again and again. Every time, without fail. She knows I'm watching. She moves on to the human-shaped dummies, hitting the head, the heart, the groin. Precision. Lethality.

Then she looks at me, a smile playing at her lips—dangerous, seductive. A silent challenge: You're next.

My throat tightens, and before I can stop it, desire surges through me. I turn sharply and leave the room, heat rising in my chest. Training be damned. I stride back to my office, shutting and locking the heavy oak doors behind me. The dark stain makes them look nearly black—an appropriate match for the weight of responsibility I never wanted.

But this isn't about responsibility. This is about her. Olivia.

I need to control this attraction before it consumes me. But I can't ignore her—can't let her think I returned for the wrong reasons. She has to understand that.

I'm going to call her in.

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