CHAPTER 5

Angelina's POV

I stood there staring blankly at the walls, my brain struggling to process what had just happened. I had never let any man enter my personal space before. Sure, I had crushes in the past, but I had never been so completely dumbstruck in front of a guy I had just met.

I should have slapped him for walking in on me while I was half-naked, but my mind and my body had completely betrayed me. Instead of pushing him away, I had let him hold me against his chest. It was as if my body actually craved his touch, his minty breath, and those piercing blue eyes. The way he had stared at me, slowly eyeing me up and down, had left me trembling under his intense gaze. My mind frantically tried to come up with excuses for my inappropriate behavior. Maybe it was his stunning looks. Yes, it was only because he was so overwhelmingly handsome and sexy. Or maybe it was because I liked the feel of his tense, hard muscles, and the way his lips had been hovering so dangerously close to mine—

Oh, God, Angel! Get a grip! Stupid girl, stupid hormones, I scolded myself silently.

My frantic thoughts were interrupted by my stomach churning with painful hunger. After I finished dressing in some comfortable clothes from the closet, I cautiously opened the bedroom door and walked downstairs.

As I entered the massive, luxurious living room, I spotted the same imposing man talking on his cell phone.

"Yeah, good. Well done, Draven," he praised, listening intently to the person on the other end before nodding knowingly. "Yes, she's awake."

Was he talking about me?

"Yes, you can meet her once you get here," he said, running a frustrated hand through his thick dark hair. "Bring him to the basement and keep everything ready," he added, his tone turning dangerously stern. "I'll personally deal with this matter." He abruptly hung up the phone.

The basement? Deal with him? What exactly was he going to do with this guy?

I stood frozen in the archway, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence. When he didn't, I cleared my throat awkwardly. His piercing eyes immediately snapped to mine, and the dangerously seductive man I had encountered upstairs seemed to have completely vanished from his demeanor.

"Uh—well—I—"

"Go get some food. Your stomach has been empty for two days," he interrupted gruffly.

"What?" my voice rose in panic. "I was asleep for two whole days?" I exclaimed, my eyes widening. "My mom is going to kill me! Oh, God, I'm so dead. I need to go home this instant before she—"

"First, eat. We will talk about everything else later. Come, let's feed you," he cut in smoothly, leaving no room for argument.

"Fine," I mumbled stubbornly, crossing my arms.

I followed him into an immaculate, modern kitchen. He gestured for me to sit on one of the barstools while a uniformed servant immediately started preparing a sandwich. I opened my mouth to protest, unsure about eating food in a stranger's house, but when I caught his hard, uncompromising gaze, I sighed and lowered my eyes to the marble counter. Eating was definitely the right choice. As soon as I took my first bite of the sandwich, my empty stomach grumbled in furious appreciation. The food was absolutely delicious, and an involuntary moan escaped my lips.

As soon as the sound slipped out, my eyes snapped open, shooting an embarrassed glance at the man sitting across the kitchen island. Thankfully, his attention seemed entirely focused on scrolling through his phone. Once I polished off the sandwich, the servant slid a fresh plate of warm pancakes in front of me. As I took a bite of the fluffy, syrup-soaked food, another soft moan slipped out.

"Stop making noises like that."

His sudden, hard voice made me freeze mid-chew. I gulped the food down nervously, realizing he had been paying attention to me the entire time.

"Thank you for the breakfast," I muttered after I finally cleaned my plate. "And... thank you for saving my life."

He snapped his intense blue gaze to mine, holding eye contact for a moment before offering a simple nod. I waited for a few minutes, expecting him to say something else, but he just went back to typing on his phone. Deciding not to push my luck, I prepared to leave.

"Well, now that I am fine and well-fed, I really should take my leave. Thank you once again," I said politely, sliding off the high stool.

The second the words left my mouth, his fingers stopped moving. He slowly raised his head, a sinister, terrifying smile stretching across his handsome face. "Where exactly do you think you're going, love?"

"Home," I stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"This is where you belong, my love. You should start considering this house as your permanent residence."

What?

"What do you mean I can't go home? I need to go back to my family! Thanks for saving me, but I am absolutely fine now, so let me leave," I demanded, anger leaking into my voice.

"I think I made myself perfectly clear, Angelina," he warned, his tone dropping into a deadly serious register.

"Are you insane? This is not my home. I have to go back to my mother. You have absolutely no right to keep me here against my will!" I yelled harshly. Turning on my heel, I started to stride out of the kitchen. "I don't need your permission to leave."

Within a fraction of a second, he blocked my path. He moved with terrifying speed, his eyes blazing with unchecked fury.

"Enough!" he roared.

I flinched at his booming voice and staggered backward. He marched directly into my space, trapping me against the edge of the kitchen counter by planting his heavy arms on either side of my hips.

"Two things," he sneered, leaning his face intimately close to mine. "One—never try to raise your voice at me again. Do not ever disrespect me or defy my word. And two—most importantly—you are not going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever." He ground the words out through clenched teeth, his voice dripping with dark, undeniable danger.

My face instantly paled, and my heartbeat accelerated in pure terror. No, this isn't happening. This can't be true. He can't just do this.

"You mean I am—" I stuttered, struggling to form the horrifying thought. "You have—"

"Kidnapped you?" he finished for me, a cruel, mocking smile playing on his lips as he observed my frightened state. "Yes, love. I have kidnapped you."

"I'll call the police and get you thrown behind bars!" I threatened, clinging to a slight hope that the law would scare him.

Instead, he just rolled his eyes dismissively. "Go right ahead and do it," he challenged, casually nodding toward the island where his expensive phone was lying.

I was scared. I was terrified. But more than anything else, I was blindingly, furiously angry at the arrogant man standing in front of me. In a moment of pure rage, I did something I definitely shouldn't have done.

I raised my hand and slapped him as hard as I could across the face.

The sharp crack echoed through the kitchen. He slowly turned his head back, his jaw clenching so tight that a muscle ticked visibly in his cheek. When he finally locked his eyes on mine, my palms instantly started sweating. The look in his blue irises was murderous. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides, and his broad chest heaved as he took in deep, controlled breaths.

He took a deliberate step toward me. Before I could even register what was happening, he lunged forward, grabbed my waist, and effortlessly threw me over his broad shoulder.

I immediately started kicking and struggling in his iron grip. I continuously beat my fists against his solid back, shouting for him to put me down. Suddenly, a sharp, humiliating sting bloomed across my backside.

The bastard just spanked me!

He carried me all the way back upstairs, kicked open the bedroom door, and roughly tossed me onto the center of the plush mattress. Within seconds, he was towering over my trembling form. I let out a pathetic whimper, genuinely terrified that he was going to severely hurt me, and my eyes quickly brimmed with hot tears.

He leaned down until his face was mere inches from mine. The suffocating intimacy of the closet incident flashed in the back of my mind, but this time, those dark, lustful eyes were entirely eclipsed by pure, unadulterated rage.

"The next time you ever dare raise your hand to me," he began, his voice dropping to a dreadful, lethal whisper, "I will fuck you so hard and so rough that you will be sore for weeks."

I shivered violently, terrified by the cold, threatening promise in his tone.

"I'll fuck your mouth so deeply that you'll feel me inside you every single time you open those pretty lips to speak. This is the first and the absolute last time I am warning you. There isn't going to be a next time."

He delivered the graphic threat in a low, unwavering growl. I was completely lost for words, paralyzed with fear as I stared up at him with tear-stained cheeks.

"Am I perfectly clear, love?" he demanded.

I nodded weakly against the pillows.

"Lost your voice? I want to hear you actually say it," he growled, raising his volume.

"Y—yes," I stuttered, a sob catching in my throat.

"Good." He leaned in, pressed a strangely gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth, and then stood up, turning his back to me and walking out of the room.

I lay completely still, staring up at the glass ceiling. My brain flat-out refused to process what had just happened. It felt impossible to accept that the very man who had miraculously saved my life from those thugs was actually my kidnapper.

This isn't real. I must be having a nightmare.

I reached down and pinched my arm hard, praying I would wake up in my own tiny bed. But nothing happened. The luxurious room didn't fade away, and the lingering scent of his minty cologne remained.

Oh, holy God! I really have been kidnapped.

My mom was going to be absolutely frantic. The sudden, heartbreaking thought that I might never see her or Alex again shattered my fragile composure. Hot tears streamed down my face, and I let them fall freely. My mind spiraled, imagining all the horrifying, twisted scenarios I might face in this house. Unable to cope with my new reality, I curled into a tight ball on the mattress, shaking terribly as loud sobs wrecked my body.

- - -

My swollen eyes fluttered open at the sound of a distant knock. I shifted on the massive bed and glanced at the bedside clock; I had cried myself to sleep for another two hours. The door slowly opened, and a servant walked in carrying a silver tray. He carefully approached the bed.

"Miss, Mr. Parker ordered you to finish this," he instructed politely.

I just sniffled and nodded weakly. "You can just leave it there." He placed the tray on the nightstand and quietly exited the room.

I glanced over at the tray and realized it was a large slice of my absolute favorite pizza, loaded with extra cheese. But I wasn't going to touch it. Any appetite I had earlier was entirely gone. I spent the remainder of the day huddled under the blankets, crying until I physically couldn't shed another tear. My eyes were puffy, my hair was a tangled rat's nest, and I was an emotional wreck.

Around nine o'clock that evening, the doorknob twisted again. The same servant stepped inside, standing respectfully near the entrance. I didn't have a single ounce of energy left to yell at him to get out, so I just sat there, hugging my knees to my chest as I waited for him to speak.

"Mr. Parker has requested your presence downstairs for dinner," he announced.

My jaw clenched tightly at the sound of his name. "Tell him I'm not hungry," I replied harshly.

"He made it very clear that I must warn you to follow his instructions, Miss," the man urged, looking slightly nervous.

My blood instantly boiled. "Well, tell that arrogant bastard he can eat his dinner alone! I have lost my appetite," I shouted, projecting my voice loudly in the desperate hope that it would carry all the way downstairs. "And tell him he can take his ridiculous warnings and shove them straight up his ass!"

"Miss, please... we aren't allowed to disobey his orders. You really have to come down," the servant stammered, his eyes widening in alarm. "Mr. Parker will be furious with your reply. Please, you—"

"It's alright, Robert. You are dismissed."

The servant's plea was abruptly cut off by a chillingly calm voice from the doorway. Danzel stood there, his imposing frame filling the entrance as he glared menacingly at me. "Just send the food directly up to the room in fifteen minutes."

Robert nodded frantically and practically sprinted out into the hallway, leaving me completely alone with my abductor. Danzel stepped inside and slowly clicked the door shut behind him.

Angelina, get ready to die.

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear this morning," he said softly, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the bed. "I explicitly told you never to disobey me."

I scrambled backward across the mattress until my spine hit the solid wood of the headboard.

"Why do you insist on testing me at every turn?" he asked, climbing onto the edge of the mattress. He pressed his knees into the sheets and leaned in close, trapping me against the headboard. "Do you have any idea who the fuck I am?"

I frantically shook my head.

"Use your words, angel."

"N-no," I stammered, roughly wiping a fresh tear from my cheek.

"Does the name Danzel Parker ring any bells?" he asked smoothly.

I frowned, racking my brain. Danzel Parker. I drew a complete blank.

Sensing my genuine ignorance, he reached into his pocket and unlocked his cell phone. He tapped the screen a few times before aggressively shoving it in front of my face. I stared at the bright screen, my eyebrows drawing together in deep confusion. It was a police database file containing a long list of men's names, listed under a glaring red headline: MISSING PERSONS: UNSOLVED OVER TWO YEARS.

I slowly looked up at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Do you know why the cops have never been able to find a single one of these men?" he asked quietly.

I couldn't form an answer. I just kept staring into his icy blue eyes. He didn't blink, giving me agonizing seconds to put the horrifying puzzle pieces together. And then, it finally clicked.

Oh, my God.

"You... you killed them," I breathed, my voice trembling.

A dark, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Exactly. So now you can imagine exactly what I am capable of doing to you, right? You see, my little love, I could crush your delicate neck with my bare hands right now, and not a single soul would ever find out. If I wanted to, I could strip you down and fuck you senseless this very instant, and no one would ever come to your rescue."

His mocking amusement vanished, and his expression turned stone-cold. "So, consider this your final, absolute warning. Do not test my patience. I am already having an incredibly hard time keeping myself in check, and you are being fucking impossible. The next time you feel like throwing a tantrum, you better think twice before opening your smart mouth. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes," I sobbed, tears spilling freely down my face. A horrifying realization washed over me. "You... you're in the mafia?" the question tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"You could say that," he shrugged casually, as if we were discussing the weather.

"So you mean to tell me... I am—" Words completely failed me. I couldn't say it out loud.

"Yes, my love. You've finally figured it out," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips as my face drained of all color. He reached out, gently wiping a tear from my cheek as he delivered the final, devastating blow. "You belong to me now, my angel."