The Mafia Don's Captive

Titania

I'm excited as I tap my knee while biting my bottom lip in impatience. The elevator was so slow today, and I can't wait to go up and show Uncle Patrick the wristwatch I've gotten for him as a birthday gift. His birthday took place a few days ago, but I'd been out of cash - my paycheck didn't arrive until the end of the week so I couldn't buy him a present sooner.

At last, the elevator stops, and I slide out, a bounce on my steps. There's no music coming from the Japanese neighbor's apartment, nor the smell of spice and onions. I press my ear softly against the door, trying to catch a whiff of conversation on the other side but I have no luck.

Maybe she's not in.

But then again, the whole place was eerie silent as well. Which was suspicious.

Something didn't seem right.

It's way past six PM, which means everyone should've been home by now. Uncle Patrick leaves the spare parts firm he works for by four at most, then twelve any day he didn't have a lot of work. The Japanese lady runs a food court downtown and often rushes home to make dinner before I got off my shift at the local cafe. It's basically a tradition for the flats to be rowdy every evening.

Shrugging my shoulders, I turn the corner and halt at our door when I hear whispers. I don't recognize the voices in the room, but the most prominent one is deep and scary, like a creditor threatening his debtor to pay up. I wonder if Uncle Patrick has visitors over but forgot to inform me. We tell each other everything.

Ignoring the cooling dread pooling pooing in between my fingers, I lift a fist and knock softly. "Uncle Pat? Are you in there? It's me, Titania."

My legs wobble as I run my sweaty palms together, finally realizing that something is wrong.

I jump as a couple of rats race past me, disappearing down the corridor. Placing my left hand on my chest, I reach out for the doorknob with my right and turn it, pushing back slightly.

"Uncle Pat?" my brows furrow as I try to register the piece of clothing tied around his mouth, his hands behind his back. He's still seated on his favorite leather chair, a white rope around his legs as well. "What's happening? Who tied you?"

I push the door wide open now, rushing in. There's a bruise forming on his right cheekbone and his lip is cut. I clench my hands in anger. "Who did this?"

He makes a muffled sound, pushing me away from me. I get the signal to run but there's no way I'm leaving without you. "You have to explain. I'm taking you with me."

The door slams shut behind me and I scream, my spirit practically leaving my body as I turn to see a hulking man for the first time, pointing a metal gun at me. His face is partly veiled and he steps forward, clutching a hand around my throat and riding me up against the wall.

My entire life flashes before my eyes as I struggle against his grip. Uncle Patrick's muffles increase as he tries to kick aggressively, his eyes on me, stark with fear. I look past the hulking man's dark, steely eyes to see that he wasn't alone. His equally veiled companion advances toward Uncle Patrick and knocks the butt of a gun across his temple, sending him crumpling on the floor, along with the chair.

"No..." I trail off with a cough, gasping for air. The man's hand tightens further around my neck, almost stifling my life. Suddenly, he releases me, and my back slides miserably down the wall. I lift my fingers to my sore neck.

"Who the fuck are you people?"

I realize that I'm practically digging my own grave by asking stupid questions. These guys are armed robbers at most and thought we have a lot of money. Probably because Uncle Patrick works for the most popular spare parts firm in Manhattan.

"If it's money that you want, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. We have nothing. You can see for yourself, the state of our house." I gesture around our surroundings.

The two men stare hard at me, then the man who knocked Uncle Patrick out steps forward and pointed his gun directly at my forehead. "If you don't stop talking right this minute, I'm gonna blow your fucking head off."

"Right, right. I'm sorry." I pin my lips together with two fingers. "I promise, I won't talk again."

"Actually," he taps the butt of the gun against the heel of his palm, moving even closer. "It'll be best if I knock you out as well. This isn't about you, but the wrong place and the wrong time, sweetheart. Now you're gonna go in for it as well."

Before I can protest, I feel a sharp pain in my temple. Lights explode in my vision, then complete darkness as I fall over, my head hitting the wooden floor gently, my eyes closing.

Kristoff

"I'm disappointed in both of you. How on earth did this happen?" I probe the two figures passed out flat with the sole of my foot, swiping my eyes across the upturned contents of the little, offensive shack. I can't believe how anyone could live in such a deadbeat place, but it wasn't exactly surprising when it came to Patrick Williams. My lips curl as I take in the beautiful girl lying beside the stupid fuck, a thick cloth around her mouth and a pitch-black blindfold around her eyes.

Who is she? Are they related?

Nevermind. None of my business.

"I'm yet to receive an answer, boys."

Peter, the most sensible fool I had placed in charge of the clowns who'd fucked everything up opens his mouth to say something, then close it right back. I feel my jaw tick. I have little patience. "Well, Sir. It wasn't our plan to make her unconscious. She walked in on us. We got scared."

"You got scared?" I tilt my head to the side, suppressing a laugh. "What are you guys? Chickens? You two do know that I'm not satisfied with this, right? A simple task, and yet you ruined it."

"But, Sir - "

I held up a hand. "Enough. I don't want to hear it. Just tell me if you've found the goddamn ring."

"Yes, Sir. We've retrieved it from his closet."

"Perfect," I swivel back around. "What's the girl's name?"

Peter pulls open her wallet and retrieves an ID card. He hands it over to me and I lick my bottom lip unconsciously. Titania Williams. Beautiful name. She's twenty-two and probably Patrick's daughter or niece.

In the attached passport photograph, she's smiling at the camera, her eyes a stunning blue and her lips the rosiest pink. She looks at least seven years younger than twenty-two. Her cheekbones are well-defined, and there's something about her trimmed lashes and sculptured nose that has my dick straining in my pants.

"Sir, he's waking up," Peter whispers, and I look up in time to see Patrick stir, lifting his head that was previously lolling on his shoulder to peer blearily at us. At the sight of me, his eyes widen and every trace of sleep disappears. I give him a crooked smile.

"About time you woke up, Patty Boy." I coat my voice in sugary goodness but with an edge to it. His eyes are drawn to the floor where his daughter is, and he starts shaking like a leaf, tears falling out of his eyes in torrents.

"P-P-Please, Kristoff. Spare her. She's my niece. She's all I have left."

"Shut the fuck up." Peter moves to stand behind the sitting man, pressing the barrel of his gun to the back of Patrick's head. "Sir? Should I finish him off?"

"Don't be too forward now," I scowl, turning my attention to Patrick once again. The fear in his eyes is priceless. "You should have thought about the consequences before you went right ahead to steal from me," his sobs deepen and I cringe at the hoarseness of it. Just then the girl stirs, sitting up, her ears perking up at the sound of Patrick's sobs. She struggles to free herself but Peter had tied her up really good. At last, she gives up.

"U-Uncle?"

Her voice is soft, like a tiny bell and even with the blindfold on, she's a lot more beautiful than the goddamn passport.

"Your uncle is my captive," she gasps at the sound of my voice, jerking her head toward my direction. "Did you tell her what you did?" I ask Patrick, not taking my eyes off the damsel. He shakes his head.

"Please, I didn't...mean to steal from you. Believe me, I wasn't going to sell the ring. I just wanted..."

Peter hisses in irritation and smacks him on the side of his head, causing him to shut up.

"You had a whole week to return the ring, Patrick."

"I was sick," he protests, "I could barely lift a finger. I stayed in the hospital for days. You can ask my niece. She's the one who took care of me."

My eyes shift back to the girl, drawn to the way her lips move as she swallows hard. "Y-Yes, Sir. He's telling the truth."

"You were sick for a whole week and yet you couldn't even call me to say you had the ring, so I could come to pick it up, if truly you intended to give it back? And what do you have to say about the passports my men found in your wardrobe? The ones you prepared for you and your niece so you can escape from me?"

He sucks in a deep breath in shock, fresh tears pouring down his face like a stream. "Please, Kristoff," he wails like a baby, "this is all a big misunderstanding. But I admit that I made a mistake. Please don't hurt me."

"What you did is too awful to be overlooked, and mind you, I'm not Santa Clause. I warned you before I hired your miserable, pilfering arse, don't bloody touch what belongs to me. You wanted to steal my mother's most prized possession. MY MOST PRIZED POSSESSION, and you thought you could escape? You might be old, but unlike others, you're quite stupid. Kill him already, Peter."

"No, please - "

"Please don't kill him," the girl suddenly chips in. "My uncle made a mistake. Forgive him for my sake."

Her words make me laugh, even though I know that she means every word. Her voice is tender; like a soft ringing bell and I know she's trying her hardest to remain calm while the pounding pulse at her neck betrays her nervousness.

"Your sake?" I tilt my head to the side, chuckling. "What do you mean I should forgive him for your sake? Who the hell do you think you are to me?"

She's quiet as she thinks this over for a long moment. "I might not mean anything to you, but please," she straightens some more, "I beg of you. He's all I have left. My only family."

Look, I might be a hardened Mafia Don and I've heard similar words from my victims' relatives, but the way she says it with emotion strikes me. She's pleading for the old fool's life, instead of hers. She's making a brutal mistake putting his life first before hers, even though they're family.

"So what would you have me do, princess? Let him go? Just like that?"

She sucks in a breath, swallowing hard. Good. She's well aware that I'm not even remotely stupid enough to do that bullcrap.

"If you'll just..." her voice cracks and the tears are free falling faster than before, making her face redden and her nose snotty, "...Oh God."

Fuck. Seeing her in such a condition makes me loathe Patrick the more. I bet the stupid bastard never thought that the consequences of his actions would ever be extended to her. I hate the fact that they're related, and even though I've barely met her for an hour, I can tell that the both of them are entirely different people.

"Untie her."

Peter moves behind her, sliding out a pocket knife from the side of his belt, and sets to work, cutting up the ropes. When he's done, he takes her arm and helps her to her feet, dusting her off. My eyes sift over her appearance, drawn to the star-shaped birthmark on her left barefoot. She wraps her arms around her as though she's feeling cold. Stepping towards her, she stiffens, her face swiveling in my direction.

"Titania Williams," I say, reveling in the melody of the words. What a suiting name for a striking belle.

She visibly shudders, drawing her hands over her upper arm faster. I move closer, behind her, lifting the glimmering pool of golden curls that cascades down her shoulders. Tracing my fingers over her warm skin, I take a deep whiff, satisfied with the soft, peachy perfume that meets my nose. She shivers furiously as I slide an arm around her small, tapered waist.

"Are you afraid?"

She bites her bottom lips, exhaling a breath. My cock hardens as she sinks onto me, like a body meeting the waves. "Tell me what you're thinking about right now."

"I...I," she squeaks fearfully. I hum, pinching her ear lobe, tugging it between my fingers. "I just want my uncle to be free. And safe. Please."

I let her go, walking back to my initial position. "You're just a small girl who knows half of what this entails. This is business. Deep, dark, shitty business, and your uncle knew this before he went right ahead to steal from me. What sort of message would I be sending to future double-crossers? That I'm a man of mercy? Pfft."

She drops her head with a sigh, wiping her nose on her shoulder.

"I'm even more annoyed that he," I glare at Patrick, "dragged you into this. This isn't your place Titania. You should let him face his punishment. Alone."

"Are you even listening to yourself at all?" she probes, her jaw suddenly set sharply. "H's not facing any punishment alone. What kind of a man are you?"

"The sort of man that's gonna break your dear uncle's head into two halves and burn his body at the back of my warehouse."

"Oh, no," she sucks in a breath, alarmed. I watch her tears dampen the blindfold, her shoulders shaking quietly as she cries. "Please, don't. I'm sorry."

I shake my head, deciding that this is just a waste of time. "Peter?"

"Sir," Peter cocks his gun, pointing it at Patrick's forehead, a finger pulling the trigger back. Titania's eyes dim as she chortles in fright. I stumble back slightly when she throws herself forward, colliding with my chest. I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her back from falling.

"Please, Sir. Just listen to me."

"If it's to plead for his life, I think we're already past that."

"No...no...I can pay you if you keep him alive. He's all I have left."

"There's no amount of money you can give me that'll take away the insult your dear uncle bestowed on my image. His death will serve as a lesson to anyone out there who wants to double-cross me."

"I'll do anything!" she pleads, holding my hands. "I'll do anything. Just let him go. He made a mistake."

"That's not an excuse. It was a costly mistake."

"Please. I'll do anything you want. Anything at all."

I let the silence hang in the air between us as I think carefully, my eyes drawn to how firm and full her tits are. "Anything, princess?"

She lets go of my hands and straightens, raising her chin. I watch as she swallows nervously. "Y-Yes. Anything at all."

I raise my fingers to her face, smearing my thumbs with her tears. I trail them down her strong jaw, to her throat, over the small hollow between her collarbones, the skin of her chest, stopping between her tits. I circle the spot quietly while she holds her breath, perhaps in anticipation.

"Would you let me fuck you, Titania?"

Kristoff

Her face crumples at my words and she takes a step back, swallowing hard in shock. I fold my arms across my chest and tilt my head, loving the way she fiddles her bottom lip in between her teeth.

"W-What?"

I sigh, jamming my hands in my pockets. "You heard me, Miss Titania. That's the only way I can set your uncle free," I move to stand behind her, tugging at the ropes on her wrists and start loosening them. "I want you. On my bed."

"Oh, no." She shakes her head regrettably. "Please..."

I raise a hand, irritated. "For fuck's sake, we're past this stage of begging, Titania. I've given you my terms...how much I feel I can help you out with. It's now left for you to make a decision on whether to satisfy me or say goodbye to your uncle."

As soon as I'm done with the ropes, she brings her hands up to her face, wiping her tears away furiously, her movements jerky and unsteady. I whistle as I wait for her response. At last, when she senses that I won't budge, she finally sighs. "A-Alright. I'll... I'll do it. I'll let you...fuck me."

I chuckle internally, amused by the way she says 'fuck me.' as if it's a plague. When she tries to take her blindfold off, my cold voice stops her. "Do that, and I'll put a bullet through your uncle's brain. I'm not kidding."

She gasps, hastily dropping her arms down to her sides once more. I step forward and push her dark, lustrous hair to the left side of her face, exposing her unblemished neck. Exhaling softly, I sweep my thumb over it, humming. When I tug my fingers on the first button of her camisole top, she stiffens.

"Can I?" I ask, deciding to be polite. She wipes her eyes once more and reluctantly nods, holding her breath as I pluck off the buttons carefully and pulled off the top completely.

With her arms still by her sides, I saunter behind her once more to unhook her bra straps. Her small, full breasts fall as I toss the white bra aside and I cup them up, loving the way they fit into my hands perfectly. "Beautiful," I sing. "Just beautiful."

"No," Patrick struggles to contain his tears. "No, Titania. Don't do this because of me. Don't."

I manage to suppress the sudden spike of anger in my chest. "Boy, if you don't shut it..."

"This is not right, Kristoff and you know it," Patrick continues as though I've not spoken at all. "She's only a small girl. She doesn't know what she's doing."

"Did it ever cross your mind that if you hadn't been so greedy and selfish that she wouldn't be doing this?" I fume, snatching the gun from Peter and dealing him a blow at the side of his head. He groans, lowering his eyes.

"You said you wouldn't hurt him," Titania squeaks behind me.

"Then tell him to shut up." I barely spare her a glance. "He should be appreciative of your efforts. I can handle him being a chronic liar and a thief, but never an ungrateful wimp."

I can't place a finger on why it annoyed me so much.

"It's okay, uncle," she reassures him. "I know what I'm doing. I can't lose you."

Her words rattle me the more and I tighten my fists in rage. "You know what I honestly think about this, Titania? Leave. Leave him with me. Let him suffer the repercussions alone. It's crystal clear that your sacrifice means nothing to him. He's a worthless piece of shit, always been."

A tremor passes through her jawline. "But he's still family. I don't expect you to understand because you have none. Maybe that's why you're so bitter. That's why you're a masochist."

Her words light up an old flame in me that I thought I'd extinguished a long time ago. I can feel the pent-up emotions sizzling beneath her heaving chest, her lips set in a thin line and suddenly, I wish to see her eyes. To see how the rage would mix with the stark blue. True to her words, I have no family. It's a well-known fact that I hate being reminded of, and if it were to be another person - preferably Patrick who'd spat those venomous words to my face, I'll ensure I break his legs and rip out his tongue right on the spot.

But since it's Titania...whom I'm trying my hardest to find something to dislike her for, I'm powerless. For the first time in over twenty years, I feel powerless. All because of a woman.

Peter and the other fool are shocked as well at my loss for words.

"Don't overstep your boundaries, princess," I huff in a gray attempt to seize control of the situation, but judging by the glances Peter and his companion steal at each other, I've only deepened the insult. "If bringing my family into this truffle with your criminal uncle would make you feel like you have an upper hand, then you're dead wrong. Don't underestimate me."

She sucks in a deep breath, guilt flashing across her delicate features. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean - "

"I don't care," I cut her off, hating myself for not being able to think rationally because of my blatant interest in her. In truth, she has more control over this situation than I do. She could practically say anything and I would oblige without a word. "Thirty days. One month."

"What?"

"One month," I reiterate. "You'll be mine for one month. You'll stay under my roof, eat my food and satisfy me sexually for this brief duration."

"I - "

"In exchange, I promise to set your uncle free after that, as well as give him a well-paying job in one of my firms to keep a similar future occurrence from happening. But if I catch him trying to steal from me ever again, then I'm sorry. I'll kill him right there on the spot."

She opens her mouth to say something but closes it back, breathing heavily as she tries to make sense of what I've just asked of her.

"You have less than a minute to decide, princess."

"When you say satisfy you sexually...does it mean we'll have sex every night?"

"I think that's for me to decide."

"I won't be your prostitute." She huffs, nose scrunched up in disgust. "Don't you have respect for women?"

"I do," I pause. "But you were the one who offered yourself to me. In your words, you'll do anything I ask of you. So don't give me that bullcrap. I'm a masochist, remember?"

I catch Peter's uncertain expression. He's not pleased with this.

I'm not pleased as well, but suddenly all I want is to own her. Thirty days. Her to myself. Mine to do as I please. Mine.

When she wastes time giving me a reply, I signal Peter to cock his gun and she screams.

"Fine! Fine! One month. Whatever you say. Please don't hurt him. I beg of you."

Patrick watches on solemnly and I move over to grip a handful of his hair, pulling it tight, so close to the scalp. He whimpers in pain. "You shameless old man. Look what your selfishness has driven your niece to. Are you going to let her go through your hell with you?"

"I don't think it's in your right to question him further," Titania cries out. "Leave him alone. I've already agreed to your terms."

I ignore her, smacking the side of Patrick's head. "Got nothing to say?"

He starts crying again. Like the sulking baby that he is. I take a deep breath and lean down, so we were eye-leveled with each other. "You can this stop this, you fool. Tell me the bloody truth. Who told you to steal the ring from me? It's not in your nature to be greedy. I know you. You never wanted to sell it but to turn it into someone."

His dark, teary, beady eyes sift over to where Titania stands behind me and he shudders.

"You don't deserve her," I spit at him. "You're a disgrace. A terrible uncle. Speak to me, who asked for the ring?"

He says nothing. Nothing.

"Let me help you out. Was it my uncle? Was he the one who forced you to do it?"

His breathing quickens and his eyes become frantic with fear, confirming my suspicions. Goddammit. I shove him back, hard against the wooden chair.

"I'm begging you," Titania whines as she falls to her knees, clasping her hands together in front of her. "I've already offered to pay for his crimes. Don't hurt him."

I turn away from Patrick to pull her up, wrapping my arms possessively around her small waist and thrusting my face in between her face and shoulder. She goes rigid at my invasiveness, struggling futilely. My arms are like a death lock around her waist.

"Titania," I moan, reaching for her blindfold. "So pretty. So compassionate. So...naive."

I drag it off her face and whirl her around to face me just in time. "I hope you've got thick skin because after I'm done with you after thirty days, you'll never wish to make deals with the devil in the future ever again."