4

Dominic

As the early afternoon sun begins to dip low, casting a peculiar orange glow over the landscape from my cabin, I'm normally enamored by the expansive view before me. But today, I'm on edge. Every little thing sets me on edge, perhaps explaining why my mind drifts back to a memory I typically push to the recesses of my mind, though I lack the strength to do so today. It envelops me, regardless.

It takes me back to the day my world crumbled, altering everything irreversibly.

The atmosphere was heavy with tension, the gunfire relentless, and the anguished cries of terrified men echoing amidst the brutal onslaught of an ambush—an ambush we were never meant to encounter. We meticulously planned our mission. We poured our efforts into making it a success.

But we faltered.

Reflecting on that moment, I can almost feel the weight of my gear bearing down on me, the oppressive heat, and the acrid scent of smoke assaulting my senses.

It felt like the end.

In that instant, I was convinced my life was forfeit. There seemed no escape.

Then, my Commanding Officer, Seth Moore, sprang into action before me, knocking me off my feet. Initially annoyed, I thought his action might crush me, sealing my fate due to an error.

But Seth didn't collide with me accidentally; he wasn't trying to harm me. He saved me.

He shielded me just as chaos erupted around us.

I felt the impact, the searing pain, and the frantic gasps for air as the dust settled, an experience I can still tap into today, unwilling though I may be.

For a fleeting moment, I believed in miracles. I believed that sacrifice held meaning, that Seth had preserved both of us and granted some of our unit another chance. I couldn't feel more indebted if I tried.

Yet, that gratitude was short-lived.

Seth truly gave his life for mine.

Dead on arrival, they said.

They all perished that day. I was the sole survivor from my unit.

The military discharged me with honors, a distinction that felt hollow, scornful. What honor lies in survival when the man who rescued you succumbed to the cruel whims of warfare? What honor is there in outliving everyone else?

I cannot forget. Not that I would want to, but my body bears scars from that day, each one a reminder of him. Each time I look at myself, I see him—the man who sacrificed himself for me.

This is why remaining stationary doesn't sit well with me. There's too much time for reflection, for dwelling on the past. I'm ill-equipped for living in the past.

The urge to leave this damn cabin is almost unbearable. It's not just about being trapped in one spot with my thoughts; it's also about being stuck here with a woman.

The last time I was confined with a woman…

No. I can't dwell on that right now.

That's it. End of story. I shut down my thoughts.

I gulp down the remainder of my coffee and return inside to Isabella. Our eyes meet briefly before she flips me off.

Lovely.

So immature.

But then again, she's only twenty-five. A couple of decades my junior. Immature behavior should be expected from someone like her.

So why do I feel the urge to discipline her?

Not discipline her like the electric shocks and the monitor on her ankle, but discipline her.

How would she react? If I were to put her over my knee and give her a spanking, would she resist? I know I shouldn't entertain such thoughts, but I can't seem to help it. I can't seem to resist the temptation.

It would be quite satisfying to discipline her.

"I'm preparing some food," I announce instead. "Do you want some?"

She shrugs, which I now understand means yes. Communication is slowly improving.

I need to get to the kitchen, focus on something else to avoid giving in to temptation. So I don't grab this young woman and take her over my knee. Because the more I think about that scenario—of her squirming beneath me as I deliver swift swats to her plump rear—the more difficult it becomes to resist.

As Isabella turns away, I grab my cell phone to check for any messages from the outside world. Particularly from one person.

Samantha.

My contact in New York who assigns freelance jobs to people like me must have some insight into what's happening here. Even if she doesn't directly collaborate with Henry, she likely has some knowledge. That woman is privy to everything. Nothing escapes her in this city. That's why I need to speak with her now more than ever.

I want her to explain why Lucchese is interested in Isabella. It's something I didn't bother to inquire about when I took the job, but now I need answers.

I know she's the daughter of the Irish Mob Boss, but I doubt this is solely because of that. Vincenzo might have connections to Ireland, but they can't be this significant.

What does Isabella possess that he desires?

What has she witnessed or experienced?

I doubt she's inclined to share any information, so I haven't bothered asking.

Since Samantha hasn't messaged me yet, I don't want to pester her further. I'll have to summon some patience.

With a deep sigh, I continue cooking, attempting to concentrate on the task at hand. Not the easiest feat when my mind is inundated with thoughts.

It's even more challenging when Isabella brushes past me, intentionally, and reaches for something in the top cupboard… well, I'm not sure what, and frankly, I don't care. All I notice is her blouse riding up, revealing too much of her skin.

She grunts in frustration as she struggles to reach the bottled water she's attempting to grasp.

"Here, let me help… oof."

She jabs her elbow into my abdomen, knocking me back.

"I don't need your help," she snaps through clenched teeth. "You've done enough."

This should probably piss me off, but it brings a cheeky smile to my lips. Seeing her defiance, even if she knows that she’s in danger right now, is amusing as all hell.

I can’t believe she’s still got a mouth on her, even with that monitor around her ankle.

She is sassy, a true mob boss’s daughter.

Eventually her fingers manage to knock the bottle enough for it to tumble off the shelf. It clatters on the counter top before rolling onto the floor.

I’m obsessed with the view of her ass as she bends double to pick it up. Holy shit, she is curvy in all the right places and hot as all hell.

Too young,obviously, and my kidnap victim so I shouldn’t have my hungry eyes on her, but I can’t drag my gaze off her.

There is something utterly addictive about this gorgeous woman.

“What?” she snaps as she spins around. But I still don’t take my eyes off her while she twists off the bottle top and takes a swig.

I can almost watch the liquid slide down her throat.

The next sip she takes over fills her mouth and a little bit drips down her chin. Then splashes onto her chest.

I don’t know if she’s doing this to tease me, but I’m rock hard.

“I told you…” she says with a smirk. “I don’t need any help. I can do everything myself.”

“Good to know.”

She’s still wound up, I can feel it. So irritated, she isn’t going anywhere.

Good.

Being this close to her, especially when she’s in this mood, is undeniably fun.

“What are you cooking?”

“Poison.” I shoot her a side eyed look, with a playful smirk.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have much choice here, do I?” Her pout is annoyingly adorable. “Since I’m stuck in this hell hole with you, with no way out because you’ve electrified the place, if I don’t eat, I’ll starve.”

I can’t resist laughing. I toss my head back and bellow out the unexpected mirth. “Well, I did tell you that was an option.”

She tuts under her breath.

Or maybe not under her breath. I think she wants me to hear her.

She’s asking to be punished right now. It’s almost like she can see what’s rolling through my head and she wants it bad.

How the fuck am I supposed to control myself around her when she’s teasing me like this?

Ireallyneed Samantha to message me, to let me know what the hell is going on before I do something stupid.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Her eyes flash with defiance. “Old man.”

Old man?

Now that inflames me. It ignites a feeling in me that I’m not expecting. Before I even know what I’m doing, I have her cornered by the kitchen counter and my hips are pressed into hers.

Bad idea.

The sizzling tension is absolutely unbearable.

I’ve felt this before, on a lesser level, when we were in the clinic. But she didn’t know who I was then, and I wasn’t at my best.

Now, we see one another on a very different level.

My pulse pounds a lot faster as I slowly drag my eyes up her body, drinking in every inch of her. We’re in the danger zone here, pushing the boundaries that shouldn’t be touched, and I can’t pull back however hard I try.

The world seems to slow down around us as my eyes lock into hers.

Everything else fades away into nothingness. It’s just me and her, with the world spinning around us, insane emotions ricocheting through my body.

This is why I shouldn’t be left on my own with a woman.

It always leads to trouble.

“I don’t take kindly to disrespect,” I murmur in a gravelly tone of voice, leaning in so close so she can feel my breath tickling all over her. Much as I know this is trouble, I still need to see her reaction to me. “Any more of that and you will be punished.”

I can almost see the shudder tearing down her spine.

Now I’m the one with the shit eating grin on my face. But at least I’m just toying with the woman I’ve kidnapped. If it were Henry, he would have done something terrible to her by now, I just know it.

And that’s why I took her.

To protect her from him. From everyone.

“Punished?” She cocks her head to one side. “What do you mean by that?”

I run my finger down her cheek, watching the fire dancing in her gaze. I could easily throw some petrol on that fire, to make it burn brighter.

Or I could splash ice cold water on her instead.

“You don’t want to find out, Isabella.”

She stiffens her spine, determination flowing through her. “Maybe I do.”