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I was 18 when I claimed my birthright, inheriting the crumbling empire my biological father left behind. But With ruthless determination, I transformed it into the world's most feared mafia dynasty. Even, Underworld kings bowed to my power, and Los Angeles' elite trembled at my name. I perfectly managed to wear the mask of a respected businessman in the daylight, while handling my duties as the don they whisper about from the shadows.
Monsters are born. As they grow up. they either deny it or filly embrace it, but it doesn' t change what they are. People around me assume power corrupted me, that's bullshit because I was born this way - devoid of empathy, driven solely by calculation. Except for one person, now lost, who once made me feel human. Who used to say I was normal, that everything was normal. But i know better I'm anything but normal.
Years have passed, i have killed people more than I have spoken words, but my craving remains : for the downfall of those who dare cross me. It's not about justice, I don't do that shit, but it's about punishing those who think they can challenge me and escape unscathed. The thrill of their demise is my fuel, my reminder that no one is above my wrath.
And for all these years everything was unfolding exactly i wanted , now except for the fragile creature in my arms. She wasn't an exception, I always savored her speechless terror, her emotions bare on her face. But today, at the warehouse, something didn't sit well with me. Today she got to know about the real me, the monster she always claimed i am, turned out she was right all along.
People always cower, avoiding eye contact, but she have audacity to lock gazes with me, demanding answers from me alone. And I, who never deemed anyone worthy for my words, chose to engage. Because It wasn't her despair that unsettled me : it was her vulnerability, that laid bare for everyone to see back in the warehouse. No doubt, I crave that fragility the way she gets scared of me, the way her green eyes widenes and chest heavs up and down, but all of this is only for my eyes to see.
Her emotions are mine alone, not for the world to witness. I'm the only one who gets to see her like that. I don't know what it is or why it is, but I want to keep her emotions locked away, reserved solely for me. No one else deserves to see her vulnerable, scared, or lost self, i get to break her and see her tears, those emotions are for me and only me.
Right now I carried this little ice princess upstairs, as she's turned frozen in my arm's, gaze lost somewhere else, lost in her own thoughts. I never intended to babysit this bratva's Princess but here I'm, just because of her stubborn ass.
"Bring food to her room," I barked, my voice echoing through the hallway. How quaint, she's starving herself like that would affect me not her. Little did she know, I'd relish every moment of her suffering.
As I entered her room, I set her down bringing her back to her senses, but next moment she immediately spun around, her hand connecting with a resounding slap on my face. Predictable. I knew this would happen. I didn't flinch. Instead, I savored the sting, as my body reacting faster than my mind, my cock twitching in my pants, this stupid brainless thing. The contradictions of her - her soft hand those were intended to hurt me, yet stirred something primal within me like last time. This!! this fucking thing is so frustrating about her, I'm no teenager high on viagra, i have fucked multiple girls that I have lost the count, but what i remember is, that they never managed to have this solid impact on me and it fucking sucks. Not being in control sucks.
