Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

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Dominik’s kitchen is gorgeous. The entire house is beautiful. Modern, sleek design with a lot of open space. It’s warm, a house I can imagine children running around playing. It’s a direct contrast to what I see when I look at him.

He’s large, forbidding, cold. Even with the change out of his suit to more casual shirt and slacks, he appears all business. And well rested. Did he sleep before coming to get me?

As soon as I sit at the built-in breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen overlooking the backyard, his phone rings. He pulls it out of the back pocket of his pants and looks at it. With a frown he answers the call and steps further away from me. I can’t understand him, but I hear how fast he’s talking. He’s not happy.

“Oh, good, you’ve come down to eat,” a woman probably in her sixties says, popping out from what I think is a pantry. She smiles brightly at me and offers her hands. I reach out to her and she grasps both my hands in hers and shakes them. It’s more of a hug than a handshake, and she looks genuinely happy to see me, so I don’t pull away until she lets me go.

“Forgive me,” she says, swishing her hand through the air. “I’m Margaret. I’m Mr. Staszek’s housekeeper. There are two other women who also work the house, cleaning, laundry, that sort of thing, but if you ever need anything just come straight to me and I’ll see it done,” she tells me. “There’s pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans all set for you and Mr. Staszek.” She looks around the kitchen, maybe she expected him.

“He had a call,” I tell her, and she nods.

“I’ll fix you a plate then.”

“You don’t have to, I can-”

“No, no you sit. I’ll get it. You must have had quite the day,” she says and there’s a comfort with her acknowledgement. Quite a day is the understatement of the year, of my life.

I thank her when she places the plate she’s made up for me in front of me. It’s a heavy meal for the afternoon, but having slept all day, I’m starved.

Dominik is still in the other room. He’s keeping his voice down, but I see him pacing the living room.

Margaret puts a second place on the table for Dominik along with silverware and an opened bottle of beer. She offers me wine, but I only want water. I just want to eat and go back to my room.

“Do you live here too?” I ask. The house is so large, too large for just one man to live in.

She smiles. “No, but it feels like it some days.” She gestures to the plate. “Go on and eat. Sometimes his calls last a while. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, no. Thank you.” I pick up my fork and knife, ready to dive into the pork chops. She’s breaded them and the smell makes my mouth water.

“I’m going to check a few things and then I’ll be heading home. But if you need me, my number is on the inside of the pantry door or let Mr. Staszek know and he’ll call me.” She adds the last part like she just remembered I’m not allowed communication with the outside world.

I thank her again and cut into the pork chop. A shadow behind the blinds startles me. I must have made a noise because Dominik hurries back into the kitchen.

He ends his call. Pressing one knee into the bench, he leans toward the window to check out what spooked me.

“It’s just my men,” he says to me, then knocks on the window and gestures for whoever it is to move. “Smoking,” he explains and sits down across from me, looking at my plate.

“You have men surrounding the house?” I ask. The estate is gated, and from what I saw of the neighborhood it’s not exactly slum living.

“More than your father, but you’ll get used to them,” he explains and cuts into his own meal.

He chews a bite of pork while staring at me across the table. It’s like he’s assessing me still. Maybe I’ll come up short and he’ll send me home.

I begin eating, not asking any more questions. It’s better I stay ignorant, I think. Let him have his life and I’ll find a way to have mine. This won’t be a real marriage, so we don’t need to pretend it is. Two separate people living in one house. It’s large enough, we probably won’t see each other very much anyway.

“You sleep like the dead,” he says after I put my fork and knife down.

“I was tired. And it’s not like there’s anything else to do up there.” I’ve always been a heavy sleeper. It takes two alarms to wake me up in the mornings.

“There’s a tv room downstairs in the basement,” he tells me and takes a pull of his beer.

“I’m not going to be locked away in my room?” I ask, surprised.

“Not unless you need to be,” he answers with narrowed eyes. “Do I need to lock you in your room? Are you going to be a naughty girl and try to run away?” He cocks his head to the side, studying me.

I force my expression to go blank. At least I hope I do. I can never tell if I’ve mastered the art or if I’m as transparent as I feel.

“When can I have my phone back?”

He takes another sip of his beer. “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see?” I can’t stop the anger boiling up. “You just said I’m not to be locked away.”

“You aren’t. You’re free to roam the house and even the grounds, but you aren’t to leave the property and you aren’t to speak to anyone until I say so.” He pushes his plate away and stands up from the table.

I scoot out of the nook. “What if I say no?” My heart jackhammers in my chest. This man kidnapped a woman yesterday, what will he do if I piss him off too much? But I don’t want to walk around on eggshells. I’m tired of it. I’m so tired of trying to placate those around me for fear of making a splash.

“Say no?” he asks, leaning one hip against the kitchen island.

“If I don’t agree to marry you?”

His eyes narrow to thin slits, but it doesn’t keep the heat from his glare hidden.

“Because I don’t want this. I don’t want to marry you.”

In three steps he’s in front of me, the toes of his expensive leather shoes pressed against the tips of my ballerina flats. He pinches my chin between his fingers in a hard grip and pushes my head back until I have to look down my nose to see him. Moving closer, he looms over me.

“Do you have a boyfriend? Someone you’re in love with?”

His question throws me for a moment. “No,” I answer when I recover.

His eyes roam over my face, more inspections. I’m not a liar, but I’m not sure he’s ever known anyone in his life that didn’t lie to him.

“Then we’ll work fine together,” he says, running the flat of his thumb over my bottom lip. The part of me that should be screaming at my legs to move, to carry me away from this dangerous man isn’t working. All that’s registering is the warmth of his touch, and how the pain of his grip is sending electric waves through my body, straight to my center.

“I don’t want to marry you,” I say firmly.

“We don’t always get the luxury of only doing what we want,” he says, shifting his hand to cradle the side of my face. His thumb traces my cheekbone. “You’ll be a good girl for me, Kasia. If you don’t… If you try to refuse me…” He leans closer to me, the tip of his nose pressing to my ear. “You’ll be punished like a bad, bad girl.”

I curl my fingers inward. This man could break me if he wanted to.

His mouth presses against my cheek, then my chin, finally he covers my mouth with his. It’s not tender, his kiss. It’s a branding. He’s marking me. I try to blank out, to just let it happen, but he won’t let me.

He grips the back of my neck, holds me to him and deepens the kiss. I want to fight him off, to push him away, punch him, kick at him, because despite what I want my insides to do, I’m melting beneath him. Maybe it’s the power, or the ownership he’s trying to convey.

When he pulls back, it’s with an arrogant grin. He knows what his touch is capable of doing. And I’m just another victim.

He must know I want to get away from him, because he fists his hand in my hair, holding me steady.

“You can look at me with all the hatred you want, Kasia, but you can’t hide the reaction your body has to my touch.”

“It’s just a physical reaction, nothing more.” I’m not telling the whole truth though. I’ve been kissed before. This is different. This left a tingle on my lips, and a wetness in my panties.

“I want to go back upstairs,” I say with gritted teeth.

“There’s that word again. Want.” His lips pull up into a wide, toothy smile.

“You’re an asshole,” I say hard, shoving at his chest. He still has my hair and he grips it even harder, twisting a little until I grimace at the sharp pain shooting through my scalp.

“Such a dirty mouth.” He turns away from me, walking me back to the breakfast nook where our plates still sit.

“Dominik,” I say reaching behind myself and smacking at his hands. “Stop it. You’re hurting me.”

“You wanted to play tough, Kasia, calling me an asshole. Not a great start to our relationship.” He’s mocking me. I hate him for it.

“You are an asshole, now let me go!” I demand. I have zero leverage here, but still I force myself to be strong. I know what he thinks of me, of what my father has told him. Kasia’s an obedient little thing. She’ll just lie down and take whatever you dish out.

“Again, she says it!” He laughs, but there’s no joy there. No levity.

Dominik plants his left foot on the bench of the nook and turns a heated glare on me. “Say it again and I’ll turn you over my knee and show you what happens to naughty girls in my house.”

This night has taken a turn I didn’t expect. How did I find myself here? Why can’t I stop myself, why do I push him?

“You. are. An. Asshole. Dominik Staszek. A fucking asshole.” I enunciate each word. I’ve lost my mind. There is no other explanation.

He smiles at me, like he’s pleased. Like I just made his day with my proclamation.

“I like strong women, Kasia,” he says, then tips me over his leg. I’m dangling upside down, my butt high in the air on his knee. I scramble to find purchase on the floor, but I can’t touch. My hands don’t reach either.

“Let me go!” I yell, swinging my hands at his calves.

“I like strength, but I expect respect and obedience. At all times,” he informs me and before I can register his words, his hand makes contact with my ass. I stiffen at the first impact, almost unsure of what’s happening. Another and another smack of his hand and I’m fully aware. Warmth spreads over my cheek. He’s concentrating on one spot, spanking over and over again.

I kick, but it does me no good.

“Stop!” I say, ramming my fist into his calf.

He pauses, and I take a deep breath. It’s over.

But it’s not. He yanks my leggings down beneath my cheeks. Cool air touches my bare skin.

“Not much protection back here,” he says and tugs the thin material of my panties up until they bunch between my cheeks. The bikini panties don’t cover much, but they’re more comfortable than thongs.

“Dominik. Stop. Please,” I say in a calmer voice.

“You made a choice, Kasia. Now you pay the price,” he says and lays into me again. He doesn’t discriminate this time and peppers both ass cheeks with hot spanks. I squirm and fight, but in the end, all I can do is give over.

My ass burns, the heat spreads throughout my entire body.

He stops spanking me, but rests his hand on my ass to keep me where I am. Tears have built in my eyes, but I’ve managed to keep myself from breaking into sobs. He won’t get that from me.

Dominik rubs some of the sting away with his hand. It’s a gentle touch, throwing me off again. Is he a monster or not?

Seconds tick by with nothing being said, then he tips me back to my feet. My panties are still stuffed between my cheeks, and I leave them there. I won’t dig out the wedgie he gave me with him staring at me.

“Did you learn your lesson?” he asks. I expect gloating, but he’s being sincere. His tone is soft.

“You don’t like cursing,” I say, managing to keep the snark from my tone. I don’t want to repeat the lesson. I just want to go to my room and let the humiliation kill me in privacy.

He runs his hands over my hair. “No, Kasia. I don’t like disrespect. You’re an adult, if you want to curse go ahead. But you won’t be disrespectful.” He stands back and tucks his hands into his pockets. “You can go to your room now if you want.” He nods toward the front of the house.

It strikes me then. All the lights are on in the house. The curtains were open in the living room before. They’re closed now. Someone came in while he was spanking me and closed them.

A new wave of embarrassment rushes over me. Did his men out back see? There are no curtains on the windows here. They were out there smoking earlier; did they watch my humiliation?

“Kasia.”

I blink and move my attention back to him.

“My men know better than to watch things that don’t concern them,” he says quietly. How does he understand my thoughts so easily? “Go on if you want. Or go downstairs and pick a movie.” He shakes his wrist and looks at his watch, a large piece of machinery. Not one of those high-tech watches, but an actual wristwatch. “I have some business to deal with tonight.”

I’ve been dismissed.

I nod in silence, unsure of what I will say if I open my mouth. Will I rage at him for touching me in such a way? Or will I kowtow to him? Either would be horrible. I yank my leggings back up in one quick tug and hurry away from him.

“And Kasia,” he says as I reach the next room.

I turn halfway so he knows I’m listening.

“No touching yourself tonight. You get no pleasure on nights I have to discipline you.”

Mortification sets in and I calmly make my way to the stairs. Step by step I get further away from him. Hot tears roll down my cheeks and I’m glad I’m already upstairs before they start to fall.

Don’t touch myself?

Once back in my room, I sit on the edge of the bed. How did he know how what he did affected me?

Everywhere I turn there’s an enemy. Even when I look in the mirror.

My body betrays me.

I open my bag and change into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top. Catching a glimpse of my bare ass in the mirror, I sigh. It’s red, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

After I throw my hair up into a bun, I climb under the thick covers of the bed. I wipe away tears. I won’t cry because of this. I just won’t. This is my home now, my bedroom, my life.

No, this may be where I live, but I’ll never call this my home.