LOGINShare
Chapter Seventeen - Steam, Restraints, and the Things She Doesn’t Want Me to See
Last Updated:
2025-12-12 05:32:39“I need to use the bathroom.”
Aria said it through gritted teeth, her wrist tugging against the chain that bound us together. We hadn’t made it five steps down the hall before she stopped in her tracks.
I raised a brow. “Convenient.”
“Oh my god,” she snapped. “Do you think everything I do is a ploy to escape?”
“Yes.”
She swore at me in three different languages.
Still, I unlocked the bathroom door and pulled her inside with me.
“No. No, absolutely not. You’re sick.”
I leaned against the sink, arms folded.
“You are a perverted dictator!”
“You’re my prisoner.”
She pointed at me with her free hand.
“Pee,” I said, smirking. “Or do you need encouragement?”
She screamed into her hands, sat down on the toilet, yanking the chain between us violently.
I turned my back, giving her dignity despite her accusations—
The toilet flushed behind me a minute later.
She finished quickly, slamming the flush lever like it had personally offended her. Then she whirled on me, eyes blazing. "You sick fuck! Perverted bastard! Get out! This is disgusting—you get off on this, don't you? Watching a woman piss like some creepy asshole!"
Her words hit hard, but they lit a fire in my gut too. I smirked, stepping closer, the chain rattling. "Do you want to see sick and perverted? I'll show you sick and perverted."
Before she could spit another curse, I grabbed her arm—our chained hands—and spun us both toward the shower.
The glass door flew open under my shove, and I pushed us inside, fully clothed. My free hand twisted the faucet, and hot water blasted down from the rain showerhead, soaking us in seconds.
She yelped, water streaming over her face, plastering her shirt to her skin. "What the hell, Dante? You asshole!"
She pounded a fist against my chest, but the fury in her eyes mixed with something else—helplessness, maybe heat from the steam rising around us. I couldn't tear my gaze away.
The wet fabric clung to her curves, outlining her breasts, the hard peaks of her nipples pressing through. Her hair darkened as it soaked, strands sticking to her neck.
Fuck, she looked incredible, wild and alive under the pounding water.
I didn't give her time to fight. My hands moved to her shirt, fingers hooking under the hem and yanking it up.
She resisted at first, twisting away with a growl, her chained hand jerking mine back. "Stop it!"
But it was half-hearted, her body already shivering from the heat. I peeled the shirt off, tossing it aside, then worked on her pants, unbuttoning and shoving them down her hips.
She kicked weakly, but the water made everything slick, and soon her legs were bare, panties the last barrier.
My own clothes came next—shirt ripped over my head, pants kicked off in the steam-filled stall.
She glared, but her resistance faded to a tense stillness as I hooked my thumbs into her panties and slid them down, exposing her completely.
Naked now, water cascading over her skin, tracing paths down her stomach, between her thighs.
I stepped out of my boxers, my cock hardening at the sight of her, but I held back, keeping it gentle for the moment.
The air thickened with steam, our breath mingling in the humid space. I reached for the shampoo on the shelf, squeezing a dollop into my palm.
She tensed as I threaded my fingers through her wet hair, massaging the lather in slow circles. Silence hung between us, broken only by the rush of water and her soft, reluctant sighs.
My touch was careful, almost tender, working the suds from her scalp down the lengths.
As I rinsed, my fingers snagged on something hard—two bobby pins, hidden deep in the strands. I pulled them out, holding them up with a low chuckle.
Water dripped from them onto my chest. "This how you've been slipping out? Sneaky little things."
She didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
“I should give my men a lesson,” I murmured. “Specifically on how to properly search a woman.”
She swallowed.
Annoyance.
Restraint.
“You’re unbelievable,” she whispered.
“So I’ve been told.”
The shower rained down around us—steam rising, water rolling off our clothes, the chain between us heavy and inescapable.
Her breathing matched mine.
Close.
I tilted my head, studying her.
“Next time you hide tools in your hair…”
“…make it more challenging.”
She glared.
“No,” I murmured. “Not even close.”
And her silence told me she knew I was right.
Latest chapter
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-Five -
I leave the room before the silence turns into something dangerous.The hallway is still humming with adrenaline when I spot Marco lingering near the stairwell, shoulders tight, eyes darting like he’s already anticipating bad news.“Move her upstairs,” I say, voice flat. “Room next to mine.”Marco blinks. Once. Twice.“You’re—” He swallows. “Boss, you can’t be serious.”I don’t slow down.“She stays under my roof,” I continue. “Constant watch. Full access.”Marco takes a half-step after me. “She’s a Moretti. She broke out twice. She almost killed you. Putting her next to your—”I stop.Not abruptly.Deliberately.The air changes.I turn my head just enough to look at him.Not with anger.Not with rage.With disappointment.“Say it again,” I tell him quietly.Marco stiffens. “I just think—”“That’s the problem,” I cut in softly. “You’re thinking. When I didn’t ask you to.”His throat works as he swallows.Rocco steps forward before he can finish the sentence. “I’ll handle it,” he says
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-Four - The Choice
The phone is still on the table.I don’t look at it again.I don’t need to.Five hundred thousand dollars.My name.My father’s signature written between the lines like a death sentence.The room hums with tension, but inside me something goes very still.I don’t break.I don’t cry.I straighten.Slowly, I lift my eyes to Dante.He’s watching me like he expects me to fold—or explode. Like he’s bracing himself to decide what to do about me.I don’t give him that.“If my father wants me dead,” I say calmly, “then I want his empire.”The words land heavy.Marco inhales sharply behind me. Someone curses under their breath.Dante doesn’t react right away.Good.I step closer to the table, palms braced against the wood.“He doesn’t issue bounties lightly,” I continue. “This isn’t punishment. It’s containment. He thinks I’ve compromised his control.”I look up at Dante, meeting his gaze head-on.“He’s wrong.”Silence.Then Dante says quietly, “You’re asking for war.”“No,” I correct. “I’m of
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-Three - Outlawed
The cameras flickered across the screen in front of me, one feed after another lighting up the darkened strategy room.I wasn’t breathing.I watched Dante move through the compound with lethal calm, weapon in hand, body loose and ready. He didn’t rush. He didn’t hesitate. He went straight toward the west corridor.Straight toward Dale.My father’s favorite.My father’s oldest friend.Dale never failed. He’d always said the job mattered more than the cost. That if it killed him, so be it — the mission would still be finished.That was what made him dangerous.That was what made my father sending him here feel wrong.Until it didn’t.Because there was only one reason Dale would be inside this house.Not for territory.Not for Dante.For me.My father hadn’t just abandoned me.He’d outlawed me.The feed switched just as Dante stepped into the corridor.Dale was already there.Older now. Grayer. But his posture was exactly the same as I remembered — relaxed, patient, like violence was jus
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-Two - The Meeting and the Siren
I didn’t bother unchaining her for the meeting.That alone made my men uneasy.Aria stood at my side in the strategy room, wrists still cuffed, the chain clipped to a heavy ring bolted into the floor beneath the table. She didn’t look restrained. She looked coiled—eyes sharp, posture relaxed, like she was daring someone to underestimate her.The table was already covered in maps, photos, and timelines. Marco, Rocco, and two of my lieutenants stood waiting. Conversation died the second they noticed her.Good.“Sit,” I ordered.They did.I gestured to the maps. “The Sage twins have pushed into Fifth Avenue. We know that. What we don’t know is how they’re staying three steps ahead of us.”Rocco pointed to a marked route. “We think they’re moving product through rotating fronts. Art galleries, pop-up events—”“No,” Aria said calmly.Every head snapped toward her.Marco stiffened. “Boss—”“Let her talk,” I said.She leaned forward as far as the chain allowed, studying the map like it belon
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty-One - Photos, Food, and Assets
“Can I see the photos?”The question was casual. Too casual.Like she already knew the answer.I didn’t respond right away. I watched her instead—how she held the fork carefully, how she tried to chew slowly, politely, like she wasn’t starving. Her posture was controlled, but her eyes betrayed her. They flicked to the stack of photos again and again, hunger of a different kind sharpening her focus.Information hunger.That was more dangerous than the other kind.I grabbed three photos off the island and slid them across the counter, setting them just beyond the edge of her plate.“Don’t touch anything else,” I said.She nodded once, already leaning forward.I caught the way her pace changed—how the food became secondary, how she ate faster now, controlled but urgent. I smirked despite myself.Then she froze.Fork paused halfway to her mouth.Her eyes locked on one of the photos.Not the twins’ faces.The wall behind them.“That,” she said quietly.I stilled.She swallowed, set the for
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Twenty - Pancakes and New Blood
I chained her to the radiator in the kitchen.Not tight.Not cruel.Just enough.Aria sat on the stool at the counter, wrists cuffed, the chain running down to the old iron radiator along the wall. She tested it once, subtly, then stilled when she realized exactly how much range she had.Smart.She didn’t fight it.She watched.Those eyes followed me as I moved around the kitchen—measuring, cataloging, learning. Like she was sketching me in her head instead of on paper.I grabbed the mixing bowl and cracked eggs into it.“Pancakes or eggs first?” I asked.Silence.I glanced over my shoulder.Her jaw was tight, lips pressed together. Defiant. Starving.I raised a brow. “You plan on communicating today, or should I guess?”A beat.Then, barely audible: “Eggs.”I whisked. “Bacon or sausage?”No answer.I stopped whisking and looked at her fully this time.She rolled her eyes, like answering me was an insult to her dignity. “Sausage.”A smirk tugged at my mouth. “Good choice.”I set the p
You may also like
Trapped Forever- A Dark & Twisted Happily Ever After
@Gupta102.6K viewsHis Promise: The Mafia's Babies
Chay Tamika492.4K viewsEntangled with the Mafia Don
Nicole Mariam126.6K viewsThe Mafia's Substitute Bride
Page Slayer187.0K viewsThe Mafia Queen's Bethroted
Author CeeCee 567 viewsBuried Beneath Sin
Hallie Shoemaker683 viewsSecretly Married To My Enemy Don
Stacey Nathaniel 309 viewsMafia Paradise
tiny temper349 views
