Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Isabella Fog swallows my view, filling my surroundings fast. So fast, so thick.

It’s so thick I could cut through it with a knife. The grayness started to rise like smoke, rising like it’s coming from the last of the burning embers and all that is left is ashes.

Then I see it. The stairs. I’m on the stairs again in the house in Russia.

It’s like I’m watching a film of myself now and I know what to do.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Walk.

Walk so that what is to happen next will happen.

I can’t leave this plane of nightmares until I do. So, I walk.

I walk then run when I hear the scream.

Mama… I stop short when I get to the living room and see my mother lying on the ground. My father is kneeling over her stabbing her in her stomach over and over again.

A scream tears from my lips and I scream again when her head rolls to the side and I see the way her eyes look.

She’s looking at me, but she’s not looking at me like she can see me, and she’s not moving.

Blood is everywhere. On the floor, on my father, everywhere.

“Mama!” I cry and that’s when I see the shadowy figure of someone behind my father.

A shadow … then a face. A face I’d almost forgotten.

It’s a man. As I look closer to see who he is, the fog swallows my surroundings and everything fades to black… Then out of nowhere a hand grabs my throat and starts squeezing hard, squeezing the life from me. Killing me. Dmitri’s face looms before me. He growls like a wild animal revealing the monster he is. A demon straight from hell.

When he squeezes tighter I see the sledge hammer in his hand. This time he’s not going to use it on Eric. He’s going to use it on me.

He raises it… I jump out of my sleep and leap off the bed with my hand at my throat. My legs cave and I fall to the ground moving back on my hands. It takes me a moment before I realize Dmitri’s not here.

Here… I look ahead of me and my gaze lands on the sea crashing against the rocks off in the distance.

My heart is hammering so hard in my chest it could explode, and for a second, I think it might, but a sarcastic laugh falls from my lips.

This is sarcasm and irony at its finest indeed.

No. Dmitri’s not here, but I’ve been kidnapped, and I don’t even know where here is.

It’s another day. Day two. Yesterday was awful. When Tristan came back to badger me again for my father’s location I just kept my mouth shut. Much to his fury.

I thought it was best to say nothing. Just sit still and look at him. Why waste my breath when my answer will fall on deaf ears? The ears of a man who will most likely kill me before the week is out.

God… I prayed I could escape my father, and this is where I ended up. It’s a cruel joke the universe must be having at my expense. Another kick while I’m already down, rolling in the dirt trying to get the fuck up.

I hug my knees to my chest and try to calm down. That nightmare took its toll on me. They’ve never been so dark and vivid. Real. I’ve never reacted this way. Then again life just got worse with each year that passed. For a long time, I only had my mother’s death to contend with. Then Eric’s came almost a decade later.

The reoccurring nightmares I used to have though just featured either my mother’s death or Eric’s.

Not a blend of both.

And as for the nightmares of my mother? Well, that one was different.

There was something different about it. After I witnessed what my father did, he told me what I saw didn’t really happen, and tried to get me to believe the same crock of shit he told everyone else. I almost believed him until the day he threatened to kill me if I spoke. I remember I was crying so much, then I just stopped.

Ten years old and being threatened with death? I believed him. I had no reason to doubt he wouldn’t do it. After all I watched him kill Mama. I didn’t want him to stab me too, so I did what he said, and I tried to forget. He had all kinds of doctors come to see me and they told me sometimes children make things up.

I pretended to believe them too, and acted like I did, although I never spoke. But I always had the truth locked away in my nightmares. Locked in my head.

Just now there was a man’s face. He’s never appeared before and I can’t quite remember what he looks like.

My heart races again when the door opens, and Tristan comes in with a tray of breakfast.

I push to my feet wishing I had underwear on, but more so wishing he would just let me go.

He walks in with that air of coolness, assessing me. I can see it in his eyes he thinks I’m lying. He thinks I’m lying to protect my father. He’d never know that’s the very last thing I would do.

My father would never need the likes of me to protect him because he’s given me nothing that would give him away. Nothing at all. Not even a clue.

“I’ll be getting some clothes for you soon,” Tristan says. I don’t answer.

What am I supposed to say? Thanks? I’m not saying thanks, and I’m not going to act like I’m grateful, although I am.

“I brought you breakfast,” he adds.

“I don’t want it,” I answer. I don’t want anything. Eating is the last thing I want to do.

It’s not that I’m not hungry, I am. I just don’t want to eat.

“You will have it.”

“No, I won’t,” I throw back.

This is just the second day and he already looks like he’s had enough of me. He actually looks like he’s ready to kill me.

“Isabella do not push me,” he threatens.

Or what?

That’s what I want to say. I want to ask him what will happen if I do, but I think better of it.

I don’t know why I keep remembering the way he was when we first met because it’s obvious he’s anything but the kind stranger I met in the park. The memory comes to me now and pulls on my heart. I was right to say he wore a mask. He did.

He truly fooled me, and I guess now I’m in the situation I’m in, I’m going to have to disagree with him about death.

“You were wrong…” I whisper.

“About what?”

I shouldn’t get myself so worked up. I guess I’m still pissed he played me for a fool. He’s just like everyone else who thought they could treat me like shit.

“You said death was worse. It’s not. This is. Y ou are. Bastard,” I hiss, and instantly I regret my words when he rushes to me. I should have kept my mouth shut.

I keep talking like I have this bravado and I don’t. Fear is making me lose my mind and I can’t think straight half the time. If I were, I know I’d know better than to piss off the man who kidnapped me. A man who knew exactly what to do to not only find me, but to find out who I really am, then steal me away from my father.

Only someone powerful could do something like that.

He practically throws the tray down on the bed and the drink slushes, almost spilling. I try to run but he’s too fast, and I’m far too slow. The mere seconds it took for my brain to tell my legs to run were the same he used to put the tray down and grab me.

I scream when his grasp tightens around my wrist and he pulls me to him. Instinct makes me grab the pillow and hit him with it. That unfortunately was another foolish move.

With a savage growl, Tristan yanks it so hard from my grasp it rips, and the feather stuffing explodes between us. He casts aside what’s left across the room and shoves me hard against the wall.

“You think I’m fucking worse than death?” he snarls getting into my face, pinning my hands to the wall. He’s too close again. I don’t like it.

“Fuck you,” I cry. “Get away from me. Get your hands off me. I’m a person, not a thing.” I scream the words like I’m not just talking to him. As if everyone who wronged me is right here in this room with us.

I notice a shift in his gaze like I’ve got his attention, so I continue my tirade.

“What did I do to you? Not a damn thing. You think you can treat me like this because I’m Mortimer Viggo’s daughter? You must have thought I was some kind a fool when you saw me crying in the park. An easy target.” Self-pity is taking over. I’m at a loss on what I’m supposed to do and while I don’t want to die, I don’t know what to do to live either. “You took one look at me and thought of me as a thing. A thing that was nothing to you. A thing you could-” He steals my words away with a kiss.

Literally steals the words and my breath in one swift move and I’m silenced.

I taste him and recall with clarity how I felt that night when we first kissed.

Shock crashes through me, flooding my mind first then racing through my body. It surges through me, fueled by the arousal that sings through my veins and the taste of him.

All I can feel is what’s happening inside my body. I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening and what he’s doing because I thought everything he’d done so far was all an act.

I thought he’d fooled me, I thought he played with my emotions to lure me into a trap. The kiss he gives me speaks of the truth.

The kiss whispers deep, deep down to the most secret part of me telling me it was real. He was real and whether I want to believe it or not, he wasn’t acting when we first met, and not at the club.

It was real then for me. This kiss feels real now.

As his lips devour me, tasting me. I truly allow myself to slip away into the exhilaration of need and desire for this man I shouldn’t want.

He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue over mine, making me cave to desire. I want to resume telling him to get away from me, to not touch me, to leave me alone. But desire paralyses me and unearths what I genuinely want and need. Right now, it’s for him to be near me, to touch me, to stay with me.

Desire makes me want the night I thought we were going to have. The night I chose as my last of freedom, and I chose him.

When he releases my hands, I’m able to press against the hard walls of his chest. I slide my hand up and I rest on his shoulders feeling the width and power of solid muscles beneath my fingertips.

His fingers run over my stomach and fire heats me up when he pulls the hem of my gown up to my hips.

He keeps his lips on mine, but I gasp when his fingers slide into my pussy. I already know I’m wet and ready for him. Now he knows it too and the knowledge seems to make him kiss me harder.

The clink of his belt buckle sounds in my ear as a signal, a warning of what we’re going to do next. It was a heads up, a chance to back away, if only desire hadn’t made me greedy to have him inside me.

He pulls out of the kiss and takes out his cock. I don’t get to see it much before he lifts my leg and hooks it around his, then holds me so he can plunge right into my passage.

I cry out as he slams into me and grab on to his shirt. He cups the back of my head, holding me in place so he can fuck me.

I’m tight. I know I am. It’s been years since I last had sex, and I can feel the effect my tightness has on him. His cock spears me, stretching me to take the width and length, filling me up completely.

Once I’ve stretched to take him, he starts to speed up and truly fuck me. It’s too much.

I come hard moments later crying out from the wildness of his savage thrusts. With that he presses me into the wall, fucking me harder against it.

“Tristan,” I cry out his name.

This time he catches my face, and he seems to slow. “I’m going to fuck you harder, princess, hold on tighter.”

I barely manage to follow his caution before he gives me the hard fuck he promises.

He starts pounding into me so hard I have to slip my arms around his neck and hold on to him.

Tristan holds me to him, and we come together.

Hot cum flows into my passage when his cock pulses inside me and as it coats my walls reality slaps me in the face.

We just had wild sex.

Us.

Me. I just had sex with the man that kidnapped me.

I’ve woken up to acknowledge what I just did, but the look of fascination in his eyes catches and holds my attention.

Tristan rests one hand above my head and just for a few seconds I almost forget what and who we are. But like the other day, he blinks, and the moment is gone. The silent realization of reality seems to hit him too and he releases me. He pulls out and his cum leaks down my thighs.

Fury takes the place of that fascination and I watch him tuck himself back in his pants. With frustration he walks out leaving me stunned against the wall.

Stunned and not knowing what the hell just happened.

Or what it means.