Chapter 5

Elena's POV

I could feel his fingertips ghosting over my neck, so lightly it was almost nothing, yet it sent a shiver down my spine.

He leaned in, and through the gap in his shirt, I caught a glimpse of his defined chest muscles. Like a wolf, he sniffed me, his breath hot against the back of my neck, making my heart pound even faster. That scent was still cool, clean, a little like mint, which was the same from my dream.

His chin tilted slightly upward, lips full and sensual with a faint, unreadable smirk. The golden mask obscured half of his face, but those blue eyes, clear as glass and twice as cutting, stared into mine like he already knew the wet dream secret I was trying to forget.

"Are you the murderer?" I swallowed hard, voice trembling.

To my surprise, he frowned. The arm wrapped around my waist tightened.

His smile faded. "Murderer? That's what you think I am?" His voice was raspy, but not quite as deep as it had been that night, it was less like a cello now, though still rough.

He pressed his lips together. I couldn't see his full face, but something in his tone made it sound like... disappointment?

Regardless, I needed to get out of here. One of the men in black had said my father sold me to him. If I could explain my situation, maybe he'd let me go, just like he did last night.

"I'm sorry. Please, sir, I didn't mean to offend you. My mom's in the hospital, she needs me. Whatever Carl owes you has nothing to do with me."

"Do you have a hundred thousand dollars?" he asked, his voice harsh, like it had been scraped through sand.

"I... I don't." I thought of the two hundred dollars I'd hidden in my bra.

I straightened my back, kneeling awkwardly on the gray carpeted floor of the car. Reaching into the neckline of my waitress uniform, I dug out the bills. As I did, I heard him chuckle softly above me, the scent of bluebells intensifying around us.

"You think your body is worth a hundred thousand dollars?"

What? I froze.

Did he think I was offering to sell my body to pay off Carl's debt? How was that any different from being a prostitute?

I had no idea where the courage came from, but I stood up angrily, only to slam my head into the car roof with a heavy THUD.

Clutching my head in pain, I stumbled straight into his chest. His strong arm caught me around the waist, steadying me, as the two crisp bills fell to his lap.

"Looks like my car's sturdier than your skull," he said dryly.

"Sir, I'm not going to sell my body," I said firmly, rubbing the sore spot on my scalp.

I shoved myself out of his arms.

He glanced at me once, then reached for my arm and tugged me gently into the wide seat beside him. "I don't need a little thing like you to earn me money with her body,"

His arm rested loosely around me for a moment before he seemed to think better of it, crossing his legs and folding his hands over his knee.

I noticed a tattoo peeking from the sleeve of his right arm, partially hidden by his shirt cuff. It looked like a tail... maybe a wolf's?

"And for the record, I'm not a murderer. I run the Velgrave Gang," he added casually, clearly catching me staring at his arm, and distracting me just as he tugged his sleeve down.

Gang? Mafia thing?

The words like Mafia, gang were forbidden in my house.

When I was seven, Carl hadn't yet spiraled into addiction and gambling. Our family hadn't gone bankrupt. My mom was still healthy. My brother, Adrian, left home after a huge fight with Carl just before he graduated high school. He never came back.

I don't remember what the fight was about, and now I can't even picture Adrian's face. All I remember is that after he left, Mom's heart problems began, and Carl started drinking. Ever since then, names like Adrian, gangs, guns, and mafia became taboo in our household.

"You're... mafia?" I stared at the man before me, trying to process the pieces.

"I'm the boss of the mafia. You can call me..." He paused, lips curving slightly as if holding back a smirk, then said, "Mr. N."

Up front, the driver let out a small cough

I rolled my eyes at the obvious fake name. Mr. N? Seriously?

He could've at least put some effort into it. Maybe a middle initial,Mr. N.Villain or N. Psychopath.

I let out a breath through my nose. 

Funny. Last night in my dream, I was dying to know his name because I wanted to whisper for it like some love-struck idiot. 

And now? Now I had it.

Great.

Then the man dropped the real bomb. "Your father sold you to me to pay his debt. From now on, you're my pet."

Pet? No no no. That's not good.

"No, Mr. N, I can't." I scrambled to pick up the fallen bills, desperate. "Here, this is all I have. Two hundred dollars. Please, can't you let me go?"

He glanced at the cash in my hands and smiled faintly. "Little thing, do you think you're only worth two hundred dollars?"

"I... I'm priceless," I mumbled, the words sounding cooler in my head than out loud.

"But this is all I've got."

"Then do you know what pet means?" he asked.

My heart sank. I closed my eyes and whispered, voice trembling, "It means I've lost my freedom."

A quiet laugh made me open my eyes again.

He didn't deny it. Instead, his fingers reached for my chin, holding it gently, but with just enough pressure that I couldn't look away.

"You're a smart girl." He murmured. "But I don't need smart. I need obedient. Understand?"

So he had no intention of letting me go.

Would he torture me? Kill me? Like those two men from last night?

I felt like a rabbit trapped by a lone wolf, terrified, helpless, completely at his mercy.

It was only June, but a chill settled over me-maybe from the freezing car AC, or maybe from the cold realization that I was now a mafia boss's pet, with no way out, at least for now. I hugged my arms around myself, trying to hold in the shiver.

"By the way, I like your kind of brave... the kind that trembles," he said with a smirk, then casually tossed his suit jacket over me.

"Turn up the heat," he ordered the driver.

I clutched the jacket, inhaling a faint scent of coffee. I had expected it to reek of blood after what happened last night, but it didn't.

Wrapped in the warmth of his coat, the coffee scent calmed my nerves.

I forced myself to stay alert. I had to find a way out of here. Mom was still in the hospital waiting for me.

I turned my head to plead with Mr. N again. He didn't seem like a heartless monster.

But before I could speak, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and frowned before answering. "What is it?"

His voice changed in an instant, cold and deadly. The warmth from before vanished, replaced by something dark and dangerous. His expression grew darker with every word he heard on the other end of the line.