2-1

~ Seraphina ~

The jet landed at Veridia airport, and as we walked, I yanked my hand from Mazikeen and bolted through the airport lobby. "Seraphina!" Alessandro's roar followed me.

I spotted airport officials and rushed towards them. "Sir, I've been kidnapped! One Alessandro Torricelli! He even touched me!"

They looked at each other and suddenly snapped to attention. "Jefe, bienvenido," they said.

I turned. Alessandro stood there, a predatory smile on his lips. "You should have run in York Isles, Seraphina. This city… Veridia… is mine." He grabbed my hand and dragged me out.

A black Rolls Royce waited in the garage, flanked by vans and men in dark coats. "Boss," they murmured. He shoved me into the car. I faced him, anger boiling. He smiled. I looked away.

After some minutes, the car stopped before a fortress: high stone walls, razor wire, and grim guards. It wasn't a home; it was a prison.

He meant the 365 days of imprisoning me? I wondered.

Inside, the grand foyer gleamed with marble and crystal. He led me to a large living room. "What would you like to eat tonight, Seraphina?"

"Your cock," I snarled and grabbed his trousers. It was limp, but present. I released him and walked into the hallway, feigning knowledge of the layout.

He was instantly behind me, grabbing my wrist and dragging me upstairs. He spun me, slamming me against the wall. His hand shot out, grasping my throat. "Those men… they respect me. You will never disrespect me again. Not ever."

"Or what?" I challenged, pushing him back. "You want me to love you? Is that how it's done? You're just a brute, egoistic thug!"

He stared, surprised. I had gotten to him. I scoffed, surveying the opulent hall. "Chicken and chips. And a wine older than me."

***

As the sun set, a maid ushered me downstairs. My nightgown, a sheer silk, gaped open, revealing my breasts. It was intentional.

He saw me, rushed forward, and covered me. "There are men here!"

"Oh," I exclaimed, pushing him away. I sat, eating and savoring the wine. He watched me intently.

"Is it fitting to your taste?" he asked.

"I can prepare better," I replied, casually.

"Tell the chef he's fired," he ordered a nearby guard. The guard turned.

"No!" I cried. "I was just kidding." I stared at him, seeing how far he'd go. Is this love? Or dominion?

His uncle, Marco, came in and whispered in his ear.

"I'll be back," he said. To the guards: "Give her all she asks for but a gun. She can go anywhere, but not outside this fort." He left.

A minute later, I stood. The guards stepped closer. "I'll tell him you touched my breasts," I warned, hand on my gown. They froze, faces paling.

I followed him. He walked through the back and entered a room. Guards stood by the door.

They blocked the entrance as I was about to enter. “I'm going to see Alessandro,” I said.

“Sorry, miss, you can't enter!” One of them said.

Again, I placed my hand at the helm of my gown. “If I pull it down, and tell you you touched me while trying to stop me, what the fuck do you think he'd do to you?”

"Oh, what the fuck, he'll kill us!" one muttered.

I nodded, walking past them. I couldn't be touched. A strange power. I followed a faint groan to a courtyard door.

Inside, Mark was tied to a pole, covered in blood. Beside him was another guy. Both clothes were soaked in their blood.

"Sera?" he rasped.

The world tilted. Everything went black.

***

My eyelids fluttered open, the soft light of the bedroom a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed me.

I was on my bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin. The memory of Mark, bloody and broken, flashed through my mind, and I flinched.

"Awake, Seraphina?" Alessandro's voice cut through the silence. He was sitting in an armchair by the window, in his manner, shirtless. Black pants.

"Mark..." I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Is he...?"

"Mark did two things I cannot forgive, Seraphina. He shared your explicit pictures. My tech team has spent the last few hours scrubbing them from every corner of the dark web. They're gone. And then he tried to blackmail me too, once he realized who I was." His eyes darkened further. "The other man, the one who was with him, was involved in human trafficking. Selling underage girls. A disgusting trade I can't let slide. Torricelli is a business household, Seraphina, but we curb crime with crime." He said it with a chilling absence of remorse as if he were stating a simple fact.

My stomach churned. "Are you going to kill him?" The words were barely a whisper, a morbid curiosity overriding my fear.

"Mark will leave tomorrow. A lesson learned, a life spared by a thread. But the other guy..." Alessandro's voice was flat. "Dead. I'm sorry. You don't have to see that if only you have stayed where you ought to.”

I lowered my head, the image of Mark's battered face still vivid. My mind drifted back to the casual threats Mark used to make, drunken promises that he'd post my nudes "someday."

A wave of relief washed over me. Someone had fought for me. Someone had saved me from a humiliation far greater than just the party.

"Thank you," I murmured. "For the girls. You save a generation."

He didn't respond, just watched me, his gaze intense.

I pushed myself off the bed. A defiant spark ignited within me. I couldn't get serious. We were playing a game.

If he was going to strip me of my freedom, I would strip him of his control, piece by tantalizing piece.

I loosened the knot that settled on my chest, and the gown fell off. I walked naked towards the bathroom, rested my chest on the glassy door and in an attempt to slide it, I shot out my ass.

I heard him stir behind me, a slight shift in the leather of the chair.

I stepped into the large, glass shower, turning on the water until it rained down, warm and steaming. My hands caressed my breast and ass. I didn't look at him. But I was sure he'd be watching.

The door hissed open behind me. He was there. Naked.

I didn't expect that. I thought he'd stare and stare. But he was here.

He's taking the bait, I thought. Then I turned and kept my back to him, letting the water sluice over me, running my hands over my arms, down my sides, slowly, deliberately.

I saw his reflection in the glass, saw his form, tall and powerful. I saw his erection, lengthening, hardening, straining against the raw desire I could almost taste in the air.

I turned slowly, facing him. The shower spray beat down on us both, blurring the edges of the moment, yet sharpening the intensity.

His eyes, dark pools of hunger, devoured me. My gaze dropped, drawn by an irresistible force. His cock. Long and thick, throbbing with a life of its own.

"Why are you looking at my cock, Seraphina?"

I kept looking, my eyes tracing every inch of it, wondering if my body, small and delicate, could truly accommodate such a tool.

It was a challenge, a dare to myself.

He moved closer, the distance between us closing until his rigid shaft brushed my belly. I gasped.

It's my turn to play, I reminded myself. I shouldn't be played. I own this section, I said to myself, bracing myself against the lust that was beginning to brew deep within me. I lowered my eyes again, then looked back at it.

"Just say it, Seraphina," he breathed. "And it's yours."

I said nothing. I merely gazed at him, then back at his erection. I wanted him in the hooks.

He took another step, closing the last centimeter between us, making his cock bend into the valley of my thigh, a scrattle to my opening.

Warm! Hard! And throbbing.

The reaction was evident on his face. He was at the entrance. A shift of angle would get him in.

"Do you want to touch it?" he whispered.

I tilted my head to the side and placed my hand on my chest, feigning modesty, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, lowered my right hand.

His eyes never left mine.

My fingers hovered just above him. I felt his skin.

He trembled slightly.

I leaned in, just a fraction, baiting him for a kiss. Our lips were a centimeter apart, his hot breath washing over me. I could feel the tremor that ran through his powerful frame.

My tongue darted out, a slow, deliberate lick along his jawline, tasting the salt and heat of his skin.

He opened his mouth. The water made him gasp. His chest heaved enough to push me backward.

Then, my hand, which had been hovering, closed around him. My grip was firm, almost possessive, my fingers wrapping around the thick, hard length of him.

He gasped, a guttural sound that vibrated through my hand. He threw his head back.

I stroked him, a slow, deliberate movement, feeling the pulsing life beneath my palm.

His head returned. He groaned. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and rested his head on mine.

I had him. The power surged through me, intoxicating and dangerous.

Then, with a casualness that belied the roaring fire between us, I released him. I turned to walk away, my heart pounding a triumphant beat.

His hand shot out, catching my nape, his fingers tightening in my wet hair. He spun me around, his grip rough, his eyes blazing with a feral rage. He snarled, a low, animalistic sound, and I swear his eyes glowed, a dark, primal fire.

"I meant it when I said I take things by force, Seraphina," he growled, his voice vibrating with fury. "And I have never begged for anything, pleasure, money, fame, or anything. But I hate it when I see a preview and then lose the chance. Do not provoke me."

After some seconds of stare, initiated by fear, I spoke. "Or what?" I challenged.

We stared at each other, eye to eye.

Slowly, he released me.

Before I left the restroom, I turned to him and whispered, "2-1, mi vida."