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8. The First Obedience
Last Updated:
2025-05-27 04:38:02
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Beauty and the Mafia Beast 11. Say It, and I'll Ruin You
[CAMI]“But if you disappoint me, Camilla?” Zeke’s voice drops to a murmur. “You’ll wish I’d kept you locked up.”I’m not sure how I feel about the way he says my name. It sounds dirty in his voice. His hand slides up my spine to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. He puts just enough pressure to remind me who's in control.I don’t pull away, nor do I let my gaze stray. “If you want to be part of the game, you need to learn how to play.”He’s so close now, I can feel the heat of him, the restraint flashing in those eyes. I should be afraid. I am afraid, but not in the way I was before. This fear feels reckless beneath my skin. “Then teach me,” the words escape my lips in a whisper. His eyes flicker, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Careful, doll. That sounded a lot like submission.”“I assumed that’s what you wanted from me.”He leans in. “Oh, I want more than that.”His other hand finds my waist. He doesn’t pull any closer—not yet. He’s waiting to see what I’ll do. If I’ll
Beauty and the Mafia Beast 10. Use Me
[CAMI]By the time he comes back, I’m dressed, and my senses have returned. But it only takes a second, just one glance at that cold, dangerous face, to remember how I felt when he had his knee pressed between my thighs. This isn’t some fantasy. I try to hammer that in my head. Zeke is real. A fucking nightmare.But my mind feels broken. He strolls in with a bottle of champagne in one hand and that same devil’s grin on his face.“Thought we’d toast,” he says smoothly, lifting the bottle. “Newlyweds and all. Don’t tell me you’re a lightweight.”He pours into two glasses, the fizz catching the low light, and sits on the edge of the bed. Then he pats the space beside him. “Come on, sweetheart. Get comfortable.”I move—because what choice do I have?—and take the glass. His eyes are already on me, devouring.“It didn’t have to happen like this,” he says, sipping. “I’m guessing you pictured something different for your wedding day.”My jaw clenches, daring myself to cut him off, “You were
Beauty and the Mafia Beast 9. The Worst Part Is I Liked It
[CAMI]The bathroom door closes softly behind me.My skin’s still warm from the bath, pink and raw from scrubbing too hard. I couldn’t shake the feeling of that stranger’s blood on me. It wasn’t there—not really—but I felt it like it had sunk in, like it belonged to me now. The soft, white robe that covers me now probably costs more than my rent did when I was growing up. My hair’s damp against my back, strands curling at the ends. I feel better. Or maybe just emptier.The bedroom is quiet, except for the muted patter of the rain against the glass windows.Zeke’s still here.He’s on the bed now, sprawled across it like he owns the fucking world. His tattoo-covered arm is draped over his eyes, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The fabric of his black T-shirt stretches over the broad lines of his torso, and for a second, I just stare.Is he asleep?My eyes flick to the nightstand. Then to the tray that wasn’t there before. Or maybe I just didn’t notice it. Cut papaya. Figs.
Beauty and the Mafia Beast 8. The First Obedience
[CAMI]I sit on the bed, the same bed I first woke up in when all this shit started, still wearing the wedding dress that’s no longer white.There’s blood on it. Not mine. Some poor guy who tried to help me, or drag me, or who the fuck even knows. Whoever he was, his blood’s on my stomach now, dried and dark and crusted into the lace like a stain I’ll never scrub clean.I stare at my hands. They’re shaking. My nails dig into the mattress. My throat is raw but I haven’t even screamed.I think I’m in shock.Then I notice it.The ring.Huge. Obnoxious. A diamond so big it catches the light even in this dim room. I turn my hand slightly and find a little speck of dried blood stuck in the crevice between the setting and the band.I scrape it off with my thumbnail, gritting my teeth until my jaw aches.What the fuck just happened?I’m married. I think I’m married.And I might have just saved my father’s life—the same man who told me he wished he wasn’t my father.I clutch the edge of the be
Beauty and the Mafia Beast 7. Til Death or Something Worse
[CAMI]The dress fits like a fucking dream.Figures.It clings to me like silk was invented just to wrap around my body. Heart-shaped neckline that does all kinds of wicked things to my chest, the fabric hugging my hips like it knows how to sin. I stare at myself in the mirror and blink once. Twice.I look… insane.Insanely beautiful.I’m not humble about it. Never have been. I’ve never pretended to be the kind of girl who calls herself ugly just to hear someone argue otherwise. I know what I look like. I know men would sell their souls and maybe a kidney just to touch skin like mine. It’s pale—like, I burn in five minutes pale—and kind of glowy under the lights in that “is she an angel or a corpse?” way. My hair’s this silvery blonde that falls in waves like I actually drink water and sleep eight hours. My cheeks always look flushed, even when I’m not blushing, and my lips? Full, faint pink, permanently kiss-ready—at least that’s what people love to say, like I was born halfway thro
Beauty and the Mafia Beast 6. Mother Knows Worst
[ZEKE]My father used to say, “Always be prepared for the worst. You never know what life’s going to throw at you.”Especially in our world, where the stakes are life and death, and mistakes aren’t just costly—they’re final.And I’ll give the old man this: when Dominic Russell still had his wits, he was sharp. Collected. Steady. A pillar.But something changed. It was like watching the ocean dry up overnight, leaving behind a cracked and barren version of the man I once knew and admired.And the cause? A woman. Beautiful. Dangerous.That was all it took to bring an empire to its knees.My mother likes to say my father fell madly in love with her. Maybe he did. But if that’s true, then how do you explain the woman who came after her? The one half her age who turned him into a stranger?I still remember the heaviness of his calloused hand in mine, the rasp of his last flickering breath. That night, I made myself a promise: I would never marry. At twenty-four, I believed vows had power.
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