"Please don't hurt me" I begged.
"Oh I'm not going to hurt you... not as long as you behave yourself" he said, leaning his face closer to mine. I could feel his hot breath on my face and I could smell his cologne, it was a scent of musk and somethin...
Emily's POV ★ I stood in front of the mirror, fixing my hair. I wore a simple sundress that made me look really cute. Today I was going to visit mom, after a very long time . I'd asked Anthony's permission the day before, and he'd surprisingly agreed.
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Emily's sundress
I gave myself a last glance in the mirror, smoothing down my dress. I knew this was risky, but I missed mum. Taking a deep breath, I left my room and headed down the hallway to where Anthony's office was. Knocking lightly on the door, I waited for his response.
After a moment, I heard his voice from behind the door, deep and authoritative. "Come in," Anthony called. I took another deep breath, my palms feeling clammy with nerves. I pushed open the door, stepping into the office.
His office was a stark contrast to my light and airy room. Dark woods and heavy furniture dominated the space, creating an aura of power and authority. Anthony sat behind a mahogany desk, his eyes lifted to meet mine as I entered. "You're ready?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.
I nodded, my voice stuck in my throat. I managed to squeak out a quiet "Yes," my heart racing impossibly fast in my chest. I took a few steps closer to his desk, my fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of my dress.
Anthony stood up behind his desk, towering over my petite figure. The smirk he gave was as predatory as it was charming. "Good," he repeated, walking around the desk to stand directly in front of me. "Lorenzo will take you," he added, the statement more a command than a suggestion.
I suppressed a shudder. I'd met Lorenzo before,on very bad circumstances and he was a hulking brute of a man. The thought of spending several hours in a car with him was not particularly appealing.
But I knew better than to argue with Anthony, especially when his mind was made up. "Okay," I said quietly, my voice holding just the slightest hint of trepidation.
Anthony reached out, his calloused fingers gently cupping my face. He looked down at me, his gaze holding a hint of tenderness beneath the usual gruff demeanor. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture.
"Don't be scared, bambolina," he murmured, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "Lorenzo's nice."
I felt my heart skip a beat. I was so used to his cold, hard exterior that these moments of tenderness threw me off every time. "Okay," I managed to whisper, my voice a little shaky. I looked up at him,searching his face for any signs of insincerity. But all I saw was a mixture of sternness and something else, something I couldn't quite identify. "I'll...be okay."
His face softened further, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek, almost as if in reassurance. "See that you are," he said quietly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "We wouldn't want anything...unpleasant...to happen to you, would we?"
