Mafia King ✔

Chapter 2

I tried to open my eyes as I felt my senses finally regained. My head ached so much. It felt like I had drunk my night away and ended up with the major hangover ever the next day. But it wasn't exactly a day when I realized as soon as my eyes completely opened, I was met with darkness. The only light present were the city lights outside.

I groaned while getting up, pulling away from the softest pillow and the softest quilt. The bed was the most comfortable I've ever lied on too. Wait a minute. I halt rubbing my eyes.

This isn't my room.

A pair of clear water eyes were staring right at me. 

I jumped back from surprise, my back hitting the headboard. I covered myself with the blanket out of survival instinct. I realized later that what I did was in vain. He wasn't moving at all. He stayed seated on the sofa only a meter beside me. His head was resting on his fingers, elbow propped up on the armrest of the seat. How the hell did I not notice him first?

And then I remembered something.

"You destroyed my painting." I spat. I made sure that my anger was evident.

"How much?" He spoke finally. There I noticed its deepness and masculinity. It was guttural and yet very calm at the same time.

My head unconsciously tilted to the side, wondering what he meant.

"I'll pay for it."

"And you think you can afford it?" I retorted sassily.

He raised an eyebrow. I was surprised that he wasn't insulted by my retort. "How much, ragazza? Name the price and I will give it to you." He leaned his elbows on his knees, making him lean forward towards me. His face was now somewhat visible. The lights from outside erased the shadows. The curves and contour are highlighted.

"Even if you have billions, mister. You will never be able to afford it." His once calm face was replaced with a scowl.

"Don't test me."

"I'm only stating the truth. No amount of money can afford memories."

He replied with a silence. He was staring at me and I stared back. I wanted to paint his eyes. It was surreal, making my hands itch to work on a white canvass. Our stares went on for a minute until he decided to break it.

"You know I finally decided on what I'd do with you." He paused for a moment, letting the space as an opportunity for me to question him but I didn't. And I just remembered something in between.

Shit. I forgot that he was a fucking criminal... and that I saw him killing a man. Fear crept back in my spine.

"You're going to be my whore, Amore."

---

"Please, please, let me go." I kept following him all around his penthouse until he stopped by the kitchen. He was putting the guns on its holster. I gulped at the sight. Maybe it's a bad idea to pressure him with my request. One sound of that can send me to heaven... or hell.

There was a vague smirk on his face before speaking. "You're quite brave, aren't you?" He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. My sight was shifting between him and his guns.

"Please let me go just this time. I'll behave after that. Please." He didn't answer. He was only looking at me with no intention of answering my plea. "Look, if I don't go out and sign those documents then those paintings won't be delivered. No paintings mean no money. No money means no donation for the kids."

He still kept his silence. The only respond that I got was him adjusting himself against the counter.

"I'll do whatever you want."