All Chapters of CLAIMED BY THE DON: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

ELENA’S POV The soup had gone cold ten minutes ago, but I kept spooning it into my mouth anyway, mechanical, tasteless. My hands still trembled from the beach, from the woman’s screams, from the word kidnapper ringing in my ears like a bell that wouldn’t stop. I had scrubbed my skin raw in the shower, twice, until the water ran clear, and still felt filthy. A soft knock broke the silence. Matteo’s voice came through the door. “Signora. The boss is calling for you downstairs.” Downstairs—not at the gym, not at the garage but downstairs. Why? Didn’t he say that he was going to settle some scores? I stood on numb legs, pulled a black dress shirt over my damp skin—it swallowed me, sleeves past my fingertips, hem brushing mid-thigh, and followed Matteo to a steel elevator I had never seen before. The ride down was silent except for the hum of cables and my own pulse thudding in my throat. When the doors slid open, the air hit me like a slap: cold, wet, metallic, the smell of old blood

ENZO’S POV The Maybach ate the road in silence, but inside my skull there was a war. I stared at the reflection of her in the tinted window: emerald silk clinging to every murderous curve, the slit riding higher every time she shifted, throat bare above the plunging neckline, pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. She looked like sin poured into fabric and handed to me on a silver platter. I hated how much I wanted to drag my tongue along that pulse. Last night kept replaying behind my eyes. Elena barefoot in that black shirt that showed her thighs, blood freckling her wrists, scalpel flashing as she carved PUTTANA into that nurse’s ribs. The way her lips parted on a soft, shocked laughter when the girl screamed. The way she looked at me afterward—her eyes shining, cheeks flushed, asking for approval like a good girl who’d just discovered she was born bad. Isabella looked at me exactly like that the night she took a man’s toes. The memory punched the air from my lungs. Six years

ENZO’S POV Dante was still choking on his own blood when I straightened. I didn’t look at him again, I didn’t need to. The message had been carved into his face with my knuckles and delivered to every soul in the room. I turned to Elena. Matteo stood two paces behind her, holding the Negroni like nothing had happened. I took the glass, pressed it into her trembling fingers. “Here’s your Negroni,” I rasped, “I’m sorry I came back late.” She wrapped both hands around it, her knuckles bone-white, and threw back half the drink in one swallow. I reached out, slow enough that the entire room could see, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. My thumb lingered on the shell, tracing the edge like I had all the time in the world. Marcini and Giovanni appeared at my shoulder, their faces tight. I slid my arm around Elena’s waist, palm flat against the dip just above her ass, fingers spread wide so no one could miss the claim. “Fratelli,” I said, voice smooth as silk over steel. “S

ENZO’S POV The door to the red room slammed shut behind us with the finality of a coffin lid. I threw her. She landed in the center of the black silk like a sacrifice I’d been starving for, an emerald dress twisted around her waist, thighs already open, chest heaving. Moonlight bled through the high windows and painted silver across the sweat gathering between her breasts. I didn’t speak. I started with the tie, silk hissed through my collar and hit the floor, then the shirt—one button, two, three—slow enough that she felt every second of the wait. Her eyes tracked my fingers like they were a loaded gun. When the fabric parted and slid off my shoulders, the air left her lungs in a rush I felt in my cock. She looked… different tonight. Not the bought girl I’d dragged out of an auction two months ago. Not even the defiant little nurse who’d tried to keep me at the hospital against my will five years ago. Tonight she looked like a ruin wearing a sin. “Take off your dress. I want

ENZO’S POV I was still buried inside her pussy, my cock jerking with the last of my release, her walls fluttering around me like they were trying to keep me there forever. Sweat dripped from my jaw onto her tits, the room stank of cum and salt and the metallic tang of power flipped upside down. I pulled out slowly, watched our mess spill out of her in thick ropes, watched it coat her swollen lips and drip down her thighs in filthy rivers. “We’re not done, baby girl,” Her head snapped up, her eyes glassy, mascara streaked, lips bitten raw. “…What?” My cock didn’t even think about softening, it stood slick, angry, veins pulsing, ready for blood. I rolled off the bed, stood, and let her see exactly how hard I still was. Her breath hitched. I walked to the iron cabinet like a man marching to war, the doors screamed open. Inside waited everything I hadn’t touched in years. Heavy oak stockade, thick leather posture collar with O-ring, spreader bar with ankle cuffs, perforated steel