Chapter Seven

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Luciano clicked a button on the adjacent wall, and the door opened. Rosa realized the room was specially designed with security for Luciano. Then she realized the hotel must also be owned by him. Oh God—where could she possibly go, since more than half the city was owned by Luciano Mancini himself?

But her nervous thoughts were shattered when the door opened, and two dangerous-looking men entered, dragging a bloodied man with them. They threw him onto the floor before Luciano mercilessly.

Feeling embarrassed, Rosa tried to pull away from Luciano, but he didn’t let her. Instead, he dragged her with him as he dropped back onto the sofa, landing in a lazy sprawl and pulling her straight onto his lap. She stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, but he didn’t seem to care at all.

“Boss, we found him,” one of the dangerous-looking men said.

Luciano’s eyes darkened with rage, and he looked at the man on the floor through the slit of his narrowed eyes.

“Boss… boss…” the man begged in a weak, shaking voice. “I am sorry. I was wrong. I did it for money, but I won’t do it again and will be loyal to you forever,” he cried.

The Italian don picked up a knife from the table and drove it into the man’s thigh.

“You should have thought of that before betraying me,” Luciano said coldly, his voice laced with lethal fury. “I hate liars.”

He yanked the blade out and plunged it into the man’s flesh again. And again.

The man’s screams tore through the room, raw and desperate. He writhed on the floor, choking on his own cries, blood pooling beneath him as if his life was already slipping away.

Rosa’s heart pounded violently against her ribs.

I hate liars.

The words rang in her head like a death sentence.

Fear wrapped around her throat. What if he ever found out she had lied to him too?

The man’s screams felt like a glimpse of her own future—of what awaited her if Luciano ever discovered her secrets. She didn’t know how long the torture went on. Time blurred, stretching into a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

Then suddenly—

Luciano pulled a gun from the holster at his waist.

Two shots cracked through the room.

The man collapsed, lifeless, blood splattering across the floor.

Rosa froze.

This was the most horrifying thing she had ever witnessed.

She turned her face away, burying it against Luciano’s shoulder and squeezing her eyes shut as her entire body trembled uncontrollably in his arms.

The two of Luciano’s men retreated toward the door and left. When Rosa heard the sound of the door closing, she opened her eyes—but was once again terrified to see the dead body lying on the floor, blood still pooling around it. A small squeal escaped her mouth.

Luciano’s arms tightened around her, and she finally came back to her senses, realizing she was in his embrace.

She looked up and found his cold, impassive eyes on her while his hand lifted the gun and pressed it against her cheek. She closed her eyes in fear, trembling even harder. She felt the cold metal drag across her flushed cheeks, softly tracing her jawline, then tenderly rub against her lips, making her part them before being slowly moved to her throat. She swallowed hard, praying in her heart that the monster of a man her ex-husband had become wouldn’t kill her. She had Renzo to look after—she couldn’t die just like that.

Then the gun was pressed to her chest, just above the swell of her breasts.

“Open your eyes, Rosie.” his deep, dangerous tone made her flinch, but she shook her head, too terrified to obey him.

He pressed the gun harder and said through gritted teeth, “Open your fucking eyes, Rosie, and I won’t repeat myself.”

Her eyes snapped open at the threat—and he slammed his demanding lips onto hers instantly. His tongue traced the seams of her mouth, nibbling, biting, and sucking her trembling lips with punishing force.

Rosa’s heart hammered against her ribs, fear and passion tangling in her bloodstream. He kissed her as if pouring both his dark rage and his hunger directly into her, while his hands—still gripping the heavy firearm—slid beneath her top. He grabbed her breasts roughly, kneading them without a shred of gentleness. The biting chill of the metal pressed hard against her flushed, warm skin.

Yet, the reality of who he was cut through the haze; she was still terrified of this dangerous mafia king. Pressing her small palms against his solid chest, she tried to shove him away.

He narrowed his dark blue eyes, pinning her with a lethal, silent warning.

“I… I’m not comfortable with a dead body lying here in its blood,” she stammered, her voice shaking as panic gripped her.

“I will fuck you right here, right now, Rosie,” he dictated, leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.

An instant later, he tore her panties away. He dragged the freezing muzzle of the gun along her wet folds; her eyes snapped shut, and a heavy, helpless gasp hitched in her throat against her will. He pressed the round muzzle hard against her clitoris, making her small body tremble, before sliding it down to pressure her tight opening.

“But first, my gun needs a taste of this wicked cunt of yours.” His jaw clenched as a dangerous mix of lust and malice reflected in his deep eyes. He drank in her expression, circling her opening with the cold steel barrel as a shudder of pure terror ran through her under him.

He slowly began to shove the cold steel into her slickness, stretching her tight cunt open, and her heart raced with pure panic.

Fuck. She hadn't known it would be this dangerous to have sex with this underworld king—the man known as the most ruthless devil alive—when she threw herself into his arms just to get pregnant.

Now, he was biting her nipples punishingly, forcing the steel barrel deeper against her tight cunt.

His eyes locked right where his weapon was sinking into her soft, slick flesh, his voice dropping to a cold, gravelly purr. "Look at you. Dripping heat for a piece of loaded steel. You’re a filthy little thing, aren't you?"

Rosa bit her lip raw to suppress a rising moan, but a sudden wave of horror overtook her the moment a sharp click echoed between her thighs. Pure terror coursed through her, making her tremble violently.

“Double the danger, double the fun,” he whispered against her sweaty, flushed skin. He was scaring her on purpose, keeping his thumb deliberately nowhere near the trigger. This heartless devil was darkly relishing every ounce of her terror, totally enchanted by how erotically this flushed beauty in his arms was playing with both his gun and his sanity at the same time.

She frantically struck his hand away in utter panic. The gun slid out of her tight hole with a wet pop, but he wasn’t pleased by her disobedience, his brow furrowing in deep, dangerous frustration.