Chapter Two: Theron's POV

Rule number one: Never Kill A Woman.

Too bad this rule didn't exist earlier–before I pulled the trigger on Elettra's mother.

But that's why I didn't kill Elettra.

However, her audacity is intriguing, and somewhat stupid at the same time.

I mean, who confronts a top tier criminal all by herself?

My mind drifts back to being held at gunpoint by the policeman's daughter. I have only heard of Elettra, but I haven't seen her.

Her blue eyes catch my interest almost immediately, the fury in them making her look fiesty–just how I like my women.

Her blonde hair is tied in a loose ponytail with fallen strands that I was moved to arrange but I didn't. The soft sway in her hips as she steps back did things to me.

From that moment, I knew I wanted her.

But that doesn't mean I won't punish her for that silly display of bravery.

I will force her to become mine forever, and for a police officer's daughter, that is the worst thing ever.

And I can tell from the muffled screams tearing through the mansion. Even with a gag, she's still disturbing the quietness of my mansion.

“Don,” A familiar elderly tone pulls me out of my little trance.

My eyes meet a figure clad in a dark blue shirt and pants with red trims running along the sides of the pants.

“You’re constantly testing my patience Luca,” I say, crossing a leg over another as my back rests on a long, red chair sculpted with gold designs that made it look like a throne.

His brows arch, but his gaze is lowered, “I apologize, Don. But I never sent my daughter to come after you, we had an agreement and I stood by it.”

“So she decided to come find me all by herself without your support? Wow,” I cock my head from side to side, my gaze never leaving his slightly wrinkled face.

“I don't expect you to believe me anyway. Criminals and always having trust issues,” Luca mocks and I'm rather surprised by his bravery for a man whose daughter I have captured.

I rise up, my lips curling into a smirk as I pull out a dagger from my pocket.

I extend it towards Luca’s shoulder, his face wincing in pain as I insert it into his flesh in rotations.

He groans but doesn't make a move to stop me, he wouldn't dare anyway. The last time he acted overly daring, he lost his little wife. Since then, he's been more cautious.

When Luca's shirt starts getting soaked in thick, red blood, I withdraw my dagger.

“I have made a decision about your daughter” I say, casually cleaning the red liquid off my dagger with a finger.

I tilt my head behind me, stepping aside so Luca can get a look at his daughter who has eventually gotten tired of screaming.

Luca clutches his chest, his breath uneven as veins pop out his temple.

“Please…she's young and unwise, let her go.” He pleads and I'm almost appalled by it.

But another part of me is satisfied seeing him like this, I can't help but grin at his pitiful body.

“Sure I will.” I say, watching his pale face glimmer with hope.

“But that's only happening because I'm getting married to her,” I added, and his eyes turn dark as he shakes his head.

“No no, this can't happen! We're like opposites in every way.” He protested.

But to me, the policemen were no different from the Mafia.

The only difference? The Mafia have no filter, while the policemen were hypocrites.

It was just different means to the same end.

After all, both parties exploited and polluted the society whenever they wanted.

I fix my hands into my pants, moving closer to Luca, “This isn't up for debate. If you love her, you'd want her to live. But regardless of your choice, she becomes mine.”

*****************

Rule number two: Being A Mafia Member Doesn't Stop You From Having A Proper Marriage.

Being a Catholic, I am getting married in the family church.

And God knows how much I hate being here but this particular rule wasn't made by me like the first one. It is a family's rule.

Speaking of family, my mother didn't hesitate to constantly remind me that I am making a wrong decision.

“Son, the Graves don't marry from the police force, are you trying to ruin our empire? You're literally bringing an enemy to live with you!” My mother goes over the same thing she has been saying for the past three days.

“You see an enemy, I see a tool,” I reply, fastening the buttons of my white tuxedo.

“I see you're relishing a little too much with your power as the heir. If anything happens, I'll make sure you endure the consequences, even if it is death.” My mother warms, her yellow eyes sparkling with arrogance.

And this brings me to the third rule: Never Go Against Family.

My mother knows this quite well, yet she threatens me. Her threat would have an effect if I fear death to begin with.

I live like I was going to die any minute because at heart? I am long gone.

After several complaints, I managed to get my family to the church.

I am already at the altar, standing by the priest with my gaze focused on the door which stands at a long distance from me.

The left side of the church is reserved for my family and loyal men.

And the right, Luca’s sons. Seeing that they're the only ones around makes me want to snort but I suppress the urge.

Did Luca feel so ashamed of his daughter's wedding that he couldn't invite anyone? Most likely.

My bride soon starts walking in, arms locked with her father's.

The sequined white gown hugs her upper build so tight that my cock throbs. I'm wondering what it would feel like to fix my hands in between that cleavage. Her face is glowing so much, I almost think she's happy about the wedding.

Until she steps closer.

Her resting frown is visible, and it's laced with helplessness. As we say the vows, I notice her fists constantly curl and relax.

It makes me grin. That is exactly what I want from her.

To be tamed, to be mine, without fighting it.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest announces.

I slide an arm around her waist, pulling her in as I claim her lips.

They're so soft, and instantly makes me want more. My tongue dives in but I pull back when she bites my tongue.

“You’ve dug your own grave, Don Theron,” She whispers with a small smile.

I quirk a brow higher than the other “Make that two graves princess. One for your mistake and one for how hard I'm going to fuck you when we get home.”