Chapter 10- His Angel

I clearly lack self-preservation instincts. Leone Andreotti screams everything I should avoid- dangerous possessiveness, lethal sensuality, desire like a fucking inferno - yet I am taken by the insane need for him to destroy me with it.

And I just proved it. 

As I take the paved path down to the Dollhouse, I can't help but grow annoyed at the smug look that came on his face at my reaction earlier. Like a fucking animal in heat, I had begged him to fuck me senseless; with my eyes, with the dampness between my thighs, with the moans I fought hard to prevent from escaping my mouth. I submitted, and to a man like him, no less... Obviously he's going to swallow me whole. He's definitely not the kind of person you fuck with- or fuck at all- I tell myself vehemently. He's the kind you run away from.

If only my hormones would listen. 

A little bit of late night research yesterday showed me that Leone is the scariest thing to ever exist in this city. But what is even scarier than that? Nursing an unexplainable and worrying amount of chemistry with a man popularly known as "the Devil" by the criminal underworld. And for good reason too. He is as ruthless as they come, with a penchant for perfection that shows in all his assassinations, sporting a huge amount of political influence as a mafia boss that is crazy to begin to contemplate, as well as the kind of good looks to make any woman want to sin. Badly. 

I should know. I am insanely attracted to him even when all he's ever been to me is domineering, punitive and difficult, taunting me with the red-hot brand of desire that seems to flare between us any time he's near. And I am very near defeat, falling...

No way in fuck. 

Like I would give myself to another man after what happened the last time. Not that I'm even considering it, but with someone like Leone, I know I won't get off with just a broken heart. I'll probably leave in pieces too.

Or I won't leave at all… Now, why on earth does that not sound as bad as I thought? He's getting to me, that's why. I just know it. But I won't let him triumph. Not for long. I plan to purge him out of my system. 

And I will.

When I arrive at the Dollhouse, I head for my bedroom and douse myself with cool water in the attached bathroom until the punishing heat between my legs recedes and I begin to think straight once again. Then I slip into jeans and a nondescript black T-shirt before I appear downstairs for breakfast. 

At the dining hall, about nineteen women are seated, chattering excitedly with one another as the meal is spread along the ginormous table by the Dollhouse's kitchen staff. I settle into a free seat, trying my best to be as invisible as possible- the better to avoid social interactions with- because Thirteen might have been living with these women for a month prior to her coma, but I just started to for only a day. I don't know them. Not to mention, I don't trust them. I barely even trust myself, and I've known me for longer. 

So, I dig into my food immediately, bent on getting things over with as quickly as possible. And while there is a huge spread on the table, befitting the kind of finances that someone like Leone commands, I am moderate in my selection, quiet as I eat, unlike the others.  

"And how does it feel to be back from the dead?"

I raise my head from my meal to stare into emerald eyes, jet-black hair and deep dimples. She looks friendly, and it's not the kind that is uncomfortable. 

"Like I was thrown off a cliff without a parachute, but somehow need to figure everything out before I splat on the ground in a crushing demise," I answer. "Nothing really makes a lot of sense any more. Mostly because I shouldn't have even survived what happened to me."

What really happened to me. 

"Three months is quite some time to be under and still wake," she agrees. "Wonder why he never pulled the plug?"

I know exactly who she's talking about. 

"Leone thinks he owns me; owns all of us," I say with a little more emphasis than I planned. "That naturally translates to not just living by his will, but dying by it too. He's so fucking self-entitled. But then again, I blame myself. I signed myself into this expensive prison."

She smiles, amused by my description. "You're one of few with regrets working for him though," she says. "All the other girls have not-so-secret fantasies of marrying him."

I roll my eyes. "Leone might be hot- we'd all have to be unconscious to not notice- but I just want to get out of here. As quickly as possible."