You can run but...

"Damon, please, I beg you, let me go," she cried. He pulled her up using his tie, which he had used to bind her hands.

She knew struggling was futile. His eerie gaze made her shiver. They were emotionless and empty. She tried to read his eyes, but like his conscience, they were blank.

To her surprise, he released her and walked over to the bedside table. Yet her fear only grew as she wondered what he would do next.

When he returned, he was holding a pair of scissors.

"I love it when you beg," he murmured, snipping away at her white dress, tearing it to pieces until she was completely naked before him-she had worn no undergarments. "Beg me, Maya. Beg me!"

Maya swallowed hard.

"You're being disobedient, aren't you?" he whispered in her ear, his breath sending vibrations through her body. "I like that too." His hand slid down to grip her bum. "Now I have every reason to do what I've always wanted to do to you, Maya..."

---

A Few Days Earlier

Maya entered her apartment, exhausted from work. Being a journalist had been eventful that day; it was a miracle she hadn't been hit by a stray bullet during the police standoff with criminals.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Ana, casually walking in. Ana was taller than her by a foot, a beauty who had inherited all their mother's striking features. But the sneer on Ana's lips spoke volumes of her disdain for her older sister.

At least with that kind of open hostility, Maya didn't have to wonder if it was all in her head. She wasn't just unloved by Ana; she was an outcast in her entire family. Her parents were filthy rich, but for reasons she never understood, she was treated like dirt.

It was no surprise that her first taste of freedom came through her job. Alfredo, the patriarch, though despising the sight of her, had made it a rule that she could never leave the family home, a rule that baffled her to no end.

"Maya, father wants to see you," Ana announced.

A chill ran down her spine. The last time her father had summoned her, it hadn't ended well. "Why?" Maya asked, on guard.

"He didn't say, but he wants to talk over dinner."

Maya eyed her sister suspiciously. The smug expression on Ana's face suggested she knew more than she was letting on. And being invited to dine with the family was unusual enough to raise all sorts of red flags.

"I'll be there in a minute," she finally replied.

"Be quick about it," Ana snapped, turning to leave. "We're expecting a guest, and Dad wants to finish speaking with you before he arrives." At the door, Ana threw one last barb over her shoulder, "Oh, and don't forget to bathe, Maya. You stink."

As her sister left, Maya's unease deepened. The last time her father had called her, it had been two years ago, after she'd slapped Ana during a particularly humiliating incident. The punishment had been brutal-an experience she never wanted to relive.

But maybe this time it wouldn't be so bad. It was over dinner, after all. Still, as Alfredo Petra's second daughter, Maya was always on the defensive.

She took a quick shower and threw on a light gown, her nipples visible through the fabric since she hadn't bothered with a bra.

When Maya arrived in the dining room, her family was already seated. She stood by an empty chair, waiting for the reprimand she was sure was coming. She had tried her best to avoid her father, but it was never enough.

"Sit down, Maya; let's have dinner," her father said softly.

She blinked in shock. Had he really spoken to her so gently? Was she imagining things?

Still hesitating, her mother echoed, "Sit, child. Your food will get cold."

Her body stiffened, but she complied, sitting down while a maid served her. The seat across from her was empty. Her father sat at the head of the table, while Ana, seated beside him, clung to his hand, still eyeing Maya with contempt.

Her father looked frail, sick even. And worried.

Maya watched them begin to eat, too uneasy to touch her own food.

"Why aren't you eating, Maya?" her mother asked.

"Maybe she thinks we poisoned it," Ana sneered.

"No, no!" Maya said quickly. "I would never think that, Mother."

"Then eat."

She hurriedly began shoveling food into her mouth, though she barely tasted it.

Her father cleared his throat. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here." He paused, then continued after a heavy silence. "I want to know if you'd be willing to make a sacrifice for your family."

Maya's confusion grew. "I don't understand, Father."

Her father's face reddened with impatience, so she quickly added, "Yes, Father, I would make a sacrifice for the family."

"No matter how big?" he pressed.

Anxiety twisted her gut, but she nodded. "No matter how big."

He nodded back, then pulled a piece of paper from the briefcase beside him, along with a pen. "Sign this," he ordered, pushing the paper toward her.

She glanced at the document. "What is this?"

"A show of loyalty to your family," he replied, looking out the window. "Anna found the reports you've been working on about the Cosa Nostra."

Her heart hammered in her chest. Those reports were personal. No one was supposed to know about them. How had Anna found them?

"She sent them to the police for a bounty."

Maya gasped, feeling like the floor had dropped from beneath her. No matter how much she despised Ana's cruelty, she would never have wished this kind of danger on her sister. How could her father and mother sit here so calmly?

"Luckily, the Don had an insider who intercepted the papers," her father continued, his voice shaking. "But the Don... wants something in return if we want to keep our lives."

"What does he want?" Maya asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her father looked directly at her for the first time in the conversation. "In exchange for your sister, you must agree to do whatever Don Damon asks."

The words stuck in her throat.

Her father glared at her, his icy green eyes-the same ones she had inherited-watching her every change of mood. Maya knew she had to be careful with her words.

"I'm sorry, Father, but I wish this could be explained to me."

Before she could finish, he slammed his hand on the table, making her jump in fear. "What is there to understand? You good-for-nothing-"

"Alfredo!" her mother interrupted, rushing to his side and placing her hands on his shoulders. "It's not your fault you have such a selfish daughter!"

Maya swallowed hard, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. For a moment, she thought he was going to strike her.

Her mother settled Alfredo back into his seat and rubbed his shoulder, then turned to Maya with a look of pure disgust. Maya lowered her gaze to the table as her mother barked, "Guardami!" (Look at me!)

Maya reluctantly raised her eyes to meet her mother's. The hatred in her brown orbs was sharp and unwavering.

"Just look at yourself, Maya," her mother spat. "Aren't you ashamed? You can help your family, but you refuse. How will you feel if we are all killed, Maya? We're talking about Don Damon!"

Maya shuddered. Don Damon-the ruthless leader of the Mafia. Her father was the fifth in command. She had only seen the Don twice, and the second time was unforgettable.

Her father had thrown a grand party, and Don Damon had made an appearance.

He hadn't seemed like someone to trifle with, and now, somehow, she was expected to deliberate with him?

She glanced at Anna's scared face, then at her mother, and finally down at her father. He looked as if he might have a heart attack at any moment. With a trembling hand, she picked up the pen and signed the papers.

She pushed the document toward her father.

Anna leaped from her chair and hugged him, her arm tightly wrapped around his neck. Her blonde hair, tied in a ponytail, reached her shoulders.

"I promised nothing would happen to you, Anna, didn't I?" Alfredo whispered, kissing her forehead.

Anna nodded, then stepped back to her seat. Alfredo turned to the maids waiting behind them. "Start packing; she's leaving soon."

Maya's head shot up from her plate. "So soon, Father?"

Her father nodded without remorse. "The Don doesn't want to wait any longer. For our sake, we shouldn't keep him waiting. And, Maya?"

"Yes, Father?"

"Play along. He needs to believe you were the one who committed the crime."

"She couldn't if she tried," Anna muttered, annoyed that any of this had to do with her sister.

"I know, princess. It's for your own good," Alfredo said, squeezing her hand affectionately. He looked at Maya. "This is the first good thing you've done since you were born. I'm proud of you."

Maya felt a surge of joy-her father was proud of her. For the first time in her life, she had his approval. She resolved to make this sacrifice for her family, no matter what it cost her, hoping it wouldn't be too much.

But what did Don Damon want? She hadn't read the document she had signed and didn't fully know what her sacrifice entailed. She wanted to take the paper back and read everything, but fear of her father's wrath kept her silent.

Suddenly, a servant rushed into the room, looking anxious. "The Don is here."

Alfredo's expression darkened. "Anna, Maria, both of you leave. Do not let the Don see you," he ordered. "Maya, stay."

She sat down quickly, her nerves rattled.

Maya felt exposed and underdressed. The fear and excitement coursing through her made her nipples harden. Sweat dampened her white dress, causing the fabric to cling to her body.

She hugged her shoulders, feeling vulnerable. Soon, Don Damon would be sitting at the head of the table.

She clenched her fists tightly around her gown, her eyes glued to the entrance of the dining hall. She could hear footsteps approaching.

The steps grew louder until Don Damon appeared.

His presence was suffocating. Even though the room was warm, Maya trembled. His cold grey eyes locked on hers, and she searched for any emotion on his face-but there was none.

He wore a dark blue suit, unbuttoned, with his shirt collar folded neatly. Several buttons were undone, adding to his air of dominance.

Neat, but terrifying, Maya thought to herself.

The Don's gaze immediately fell on her. It was clear that she was the offender.

Hatred flared within him.

But even he had to admit it-she was beautiful. Her striking green eyes, though trembling in fear, were captivating. His heart hardened even more. She didn't know what real fear was yet.

As his gaze moved away from hers, Maya noticed her father struggling to stand from his seat. He finally rose and greeted the Don with deep respect.

Don Damon glanced back at her, and in her confusion, she lowered her lashes and bit her lip. Remembering her manners, she stood and curtsied.

"È lei?" (Is she the one?) he asked in his deep, commanding voice.

"Sì, Capo," (Yes, Boss) her father replied.

She heard him move closer. He pulled out a chair across from her and sat down, his fingers drumming rhythmically against the table.

Maya remained frozen in place, too terrified to move. He didn't need any more evidence to know she was the one who had nearly cost him dearly with the police. She was going to pay for it. No matter what it took.

But first, he looked down at the paper in front of him. Seeing her signature, a cold smile spread across his lips.

It was done. Her life was in his hands now.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs, and ordered, "Look at me."

She didn't move. Her body shook like a leaf, which only angered him further. He hated having to repeat himself.

Don Damon stood, walked around the table, and stopped in front of her.

Yank!

He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so that she was forced to look up at him. Pain shot through her scalp as he gripped her hair tightly.

She winced, biting back her tears, her hands instinctively reaching up to where his fingers were entangled in her hair.

"Sto parlando con te, cagna! Guardami!" (I'm talking to you, bitch! Look at me!) he snarled.

In pain, Maya opened her eyes. When her green gaze met his icy grey one, she knew instantly-she had made a grave mistake signing those papers.

For this man was the devil.

Maya struggled to maintain eye contact, her entire body screaming from the pain. The pressure of his grip around her neck was unbearable. She tried to loosen his hold by clutching his wrist, but it was useless. This man would kill her, and no one-not even her father-could stop him.

"Good," Don Damon sighed, clearly satisfied. This was only the beginning. He was going to make her suffer in ways she couldn't yet imagine. He wanted her to beg.

"Do you know why you're coming with me?"

She tried to shake her head, but his firm hand kept her in place. The hatred in his eyes deepened her terror.

"Speak with your lips, puttana!" (Whore!)

"No, maestro!" she cried, her voice shaky but clear. She sounded fragile, just like she looked-an angel on the brink of being dragged into hell.

His brows furrowed in anger. "Did I hear you call me 'sir'? You didn't even read the papers you signed, did you?" He released her neck only to snatch the papers from the table and shove them into her face. "Here. Let me explain. It says you're my slave now. I own you. When I say jump, you jump. When I say die, you die."

"Y-y-yes, maestro," she stuttered, hoping to avoid more pain.

He chuckled darkly. "That's better. Don't call me 'sir'-call me maestro. Understand?"

She nodded quickly, terrified. Seeing his hand raise as if to strike her again, she blurted out, "Yes, maestro!"

Instead of the slap she anticipated, he reached forward, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A cruel smile curled on his lips as he watched the fear rippling through her.

"Good girl," he muttered. He let her go, and she fell back onto the chair, rough and defeated. His fingers trailed along her tear-streaked cheek, as if savoring her broken state. "Wipe your tears." He ordered, clearly relishing the sight of her vulnerability and exposed body beneath the damp white fabric.

Maya glanced at her father, searching for help. But his eyes remained indifferent, cold. It felt like a betrayal. She had signed her life away, and the consequences were becoming clearer by the second.

"Go pack your things and wait in the car. You have ten minutes-no more." Damon's voice was sharp, final.

"Yes, maestro," she whispered, wondering if these would be the only words she'd speak for the rest of her life. Tears welled up again, but she fought to keep them at bay, knowing that showing weakness would only make things worse.

She bowed her head and hurried from the room, the pain wracking her body from all angles. She felt shattered, her hair wild and disheveled as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

Once she reached her room, Maya collapsed to the floor, sobbing into her palms. The weight of what had just happened was too much to bear.

Dora, the older woman who had always treated her with kindness, rushed in when she saw Maya on the ground. Her face was filled with pity.

"It's okay, Maya. It's not the end of the world," Dora said, though even she seemed unsure of her own words. Everyone knew the Don was ruthless, and there was little hope for someone as innocent as Maya.

"He's going to kill me, Dora," Maya cried into the woman's arms. "He wants to kill me."

Dora held her tightly. "There's nothing we can do now. I'll pray for you."

Remembering Damon's orders, Maya shot up suddenly.

"We packed everything we think you might need. It's in the car waiting for you," Dora said gently, offering a small glimmer of relief.

Outside, three limousines were lined up. Maya saw Damon-her maestro-waiting by one of the cars, his eyes fixed forward. Even in the cold night air, she was sweating with fear.

Her bags were lying on the ground near the trunk of the limousine. She hesitated, unsure what to do.

"Why is my luggage on the ground?" she asked one of the men standing nearby.

"Capo said you wouldn't need them," the man replied bluntly.

The chill from his words seeped into her bones. She moved quicker, her steps faltering only when she saw Damon beginning to look impatient. She climbed into the car, closing the door behind her.

He gave her a single glance before returning his gaze forward. Maya stared out the window, watching the house she had grown up in disappear into the night. At the last moment, she caught sight of Anna at her bedroom window, grinning mischievously.

"Start the car. Let's go," Damon barked.

Maya flinched at the sound of his voice. He had her exactly where he wanted her-terrified, submissive, and alone. And this was just the beginning.

The car ride was long and silent, broken only by Damon's sharp commands over the phone. When they finally arrived, Maya's eyes widened at the sight of the enormous mansion before them. It was much grander than her father's house. Her mouth fell open in awe.

As they reached the door, a young girl-about Maya's age-ran up to Damon, throwing her arms around him. He hugged her tenderly, a side of him Maya hadn't expected.

She recognized the girl from the party. She was Don's sister.

"You left without saying goodbye! I'll replace you with Derinem as my favorite brother!" the girl teased.

He smiled softly. "We'll do the outing another day, Maria. I had important business today."

Maria's gaze shifted to Maya, her eyes filled with curiosity. "Who's she?"

"She's the new servant," Damon replied, his tone growing cold again.

Maria approached Maya with a friendly smile. "Hi, what's your name?"

Maya whispered, "Maya," feeling Damon's burning gaze on her.

Before Maria could respond, Damon cut in. "Now's not the time for introductions. Maya, follow me."

Maya obeyed without hesitation. She had no choice. She would do everything he commanded-it was the only way to survive.

He led her to a room and locked the door behind them. The next thing she felt was his hand striking her face.

She crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks as her face throbbed from the pain.

"Spilling your name without my permission. What were you thinking, stupida puttana?" (Stupid bitch)

She sobbed silently, her face pressed against the cold floor.

He grabbed her by her clothes, yanking her back up. Her red eyes widened in fear, and he savored the sight.

"One more warning, Maya," he whispered dangerously close to her ear. "Do not breathe until I tell you to. Capito?"

Her voice cracked as she answered, "Yes, maestro."