Marrying the Mob Prince

CLAIRE

The asshole branded me.

Blinking away tears, I inspected the ink. A plastic bandage wrapped my upper thigh, peeking out from under the dress. I peeled it away, revealing the large, black letters spelling “Sandor” burned, slightly warped by the clear gel. I sat on the bed, reeling with shock. I touched the angry flesh and it hurt, ruling out the possibility of a bizarre dream.

After I’d washed off my humiliation, Cainan allowed me a few minutes alone to “process everything.” Dimly, I wondered what he did when he wasn’t enslaving women.

The floorboards creaked, and my head snapped to the right.

“Your time is up,” he boomed. “Come out.”

My heart hammered as I stared at the door that separated us. If I didn’t obey, he’d barge in. Nothing in my life had prepared me for getting kidnapped. I hadn’t the faintest idea how to handle a man who’d tattooed his name on me.

I left the bathroom, stewing.

Cainan stood by the dresser. He nodded, his firm mouth smoothing into a smile. “Good girl.”

That phrase incensed me.

I crossed my arms. “So what fresh hell have you planned for me now?”

His haphazard glance pierced me as he buttoned a green silk shirt. “I’m sensing a bit of attitude. While that might’ve been cute in Boston, insubordination is not tolerated on Leda.”

“Oh, you don’t like my bad mood? Well, here’s a thought-maybe you shouldn’t have tattooed me like a farm animal!”

“It’ll heal in a couple weeks.”

His dismissal did nothing to help my temper. I glared at him through a haze of tears, a violent purge building in my throat. “I never wanted a man’s tattoo on my skin. I find it tacky and stupid. This is unforgivable.”

Cainan ran fingers through his hair. “Give it a rest. Haven’t you taken enough punishment for one day?”

“You put your name on my fucking thigh!”

“Yes, I did,” he said, his mocking drawl fanning my rage. “It keeps you safe from the other traffickers on this island, should you wander outside the villa. They’d consider you fair game-unless you had a mark identifying your owner.”

“You’re not my owner.”

My inflamed voice erupted to the ceiling, but Cainan ignored me. He grabbed something from the nightstand, bulldozing right through my words. “And this will communicate to everyone that I will punish anyone who touches you.”

Silver flashed through the air as he wrapped a pretty necklace around me. Then he positioned me in front of the standing mirror. A thin silvery chain hung on my neck, the links studded with diamonds before coming together in a floating solitaire diamond.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I shook my head, frowning. “I look like an expensive hooker.”

“You’re not for sale.” His mouth widened in a predatory smile, making my thighs clench on nothing. Then a warm shock touched my leg and glided up, cupping my ass. “One of our more frequent guests is a jeweler. Years ago, we commissioned these collars for the girls. I have to say, I’ve never seen a woman wear her bondage so perfectly.”

My cheeks flushed. The necklace complemented my skin beautifully. I fingered the diamonds, following their path to a clasp on the back. It easily came apart.

“What’s stopping me from taking it off?”

“Nothing.” His fingers curved under my chin as his voice grew stern. “Except the promise of my displeasure…and the fact it will not help you get off the island. You must always have it on.”

I scrambled to push together my wild thoughts. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t, you’ll be considered fair game.”

“A tattoo isn’t enough?”

“Every girl on this property has one, but not all of them have your necklace. It protects you from the others.”

“Even your brother?”

“Especially him,” he grunted. “Trust me, there will come a day when you’ll desperately cling to your bondage.”

The edge in his gravelly voice tingled me with warmth. I stared at him, intimidated by Cainan and what he wanted from me. I couldn’t help but feel like this was coming full circle. The collar. The tattoo. Getting me off on the table.

He smiled and patted my head. I stewed as he buttoned the rest of his shirt, so angry I could tackle the motherfucker. But fighting with Cainan ended on his terms, usually with me on the floor. I needed to stop provoking him. There was something deeply wrong with him.

Cainan met my hand in a warm clasp and pulled me from the room. Heat touched my skin as he led me outside, the pain in my thigh twinging. We stepped onto the villa’s grounds. Its ominous beauty struck awe into my battered heart. I gawked at the mansion resplendent in the garish foliage climbing the walls, spilling from potted plants. Nude girls splashed in the dazzling pool, watched by guards in black. Some sunbathed on the white lounge chaises. If it weren’t for the man standing next to me, insisting that it was real, I wouldn’t have believed my eyes.

“You see that girl in the kitchen?” He pointed out a woman wearing a silk blouse, a thong, and a gold collar as she prepared a plate of fruit. “Gold represents the higher tiered girls. They’re entertainers…courtesans, cooks. They’re loaned out to visiting guests.”

I choked on my saliva. “Loaned out?”

“Yes.” Cainan’s mouth pricked into a measured smile. “Platinum necklaces like yours mean that you’re private property. Nobody can touch you without my permission.”

Apprehension knotted my throat. I didn’t want to be touched by anyone else, and that thought pitted my gut with shame. Cainan let out an amused snort as we walked across the lawn. “Don’t worry. I won’t do that…I don’t have morals, but I do have limits.”

“What are they?”

Cainan smirked he led me around a thick palm tree. “Hoping to figure out my weaknesses?”

“Everybody has preferences.”

“I’ve told you what I like.”

“No, you’ve clarified that I’m stuck here…and the only way out is appeasing you. How am I supposed to do that if I don’t know where you draw the line?”

“I don’t divulge that information.”

Taken aback, I gaped at him. “Why not?”

“Leda might be filled with riches, but a man’s weaknesses are the island’s real currency. That’s how you destroy a person. By finding out what makes him tic, and exploiting it.” Cainan let out a tense breath, rubbing a knot in his shoulder. “It’s part of my job. Or it will be soon. My father is retiring and leaving the estate to me.”

Congratu-fucking-lations. I couldn’t imagine a more soul-wrenching job in the world, but clearly he’d made his peace with it or he wouldn’t have branded me.

“Can you explain why?”

“Like I said, there are no rules on Leda. But there’s definitely a culture.” He gestured at the house, where topless women sunbathed on lounge chairs. “The mindless pleasure gets boring after a while. Everybody needs something to work toward, and for most of the men here, that’s simply more money. More pussy. And we mostly get that from each other, because trafficking new girls here doesn’t happen as often as everyone likes.”Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

The blood drained from my face to pool near my feet. I wiped my brow, struggling to process what he was saying.

“Trafficking women isn’t easy. Finding girls, training them, flying them in undetected…that takes time.” He inhaled a hitching sigh and blew it out slowly. “Time that nobody has.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

He seemed bitter as hell. Cainan hated this place. It made sense-his mother had died here.

He pocketed his free hand, shaking his head. “This is what my life has been leading up to.”

I studied the lines of tension on his face. “I can’t imagine a more depressing legacy.”

“It is what it is.”

“But there’s so much more to you than that.”

“There’s not. I just…wanted something of my own for a bit longer.”

His gaze met mine, and they seemed to melt with a secret tenderness. Does he mean me? That look lingered too long for it to be a coincidence. The embers in Cainan’s eyes glowed like smoldering rocks, pulsating. His eyes fell on my mouth before he seemed to come out of it. He cleared his throat. His fingers pinched into my wrist as he dragged onto a path I hadn’t noticed yesterday. It led into the jungle and opened to a giant garden filled with fruit trees, sugarcane, pineapple, and dozens of leafy greens.

I knelt beside the nearest planter box, examining the jagged leaves popping from the deep red earth. Women in green coveralls worked the fields. They seemed to range from their early twenties to mid-thirties. Leather encircled their necks. A group of men sat at a table watching them as they played cards. They scrambled to their feet the second Cainan stepped onto the farm. He lifted his hand in greeting.

I frowned, studying the gardeners. “What are the leather collars for?”

“It means she’s up for grabs,” he deadpanned. “Anybody, including the guards, can fuck these girls. No restrictions.”

My God.

These men were worse than beasts. How long had they been allowed to run this place unchecked, filling this Pablo Escobar nightmare with trafficked women? My heart pounded as he led me from the awful sight of the women working the fields. Angry tears rushed to my eyes.

“Why are they treated like that?”

“Because they broke the rules,” he answered smoothly. “Runaways get the collar for three months before they’re moved up to gold. Girls that don’t learn to shut their mouths and obey wear leather permanently. You don’t want to be one of them.”

I never doubted it.

A deep hurt throbbed inside me as I followed Cainan, too discouraged to fight. I was out of my depth. Surrounded by hostiles.

How would I fight my way out?