Blackmailed to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #2)

10. Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

S ebastian

I woke up with a start, the stiff, unforgiving office chair digging into my back. The dim light in the room disoriented me, the faint scent of leather and old books clinging to the air. My desk was a chaotic mess of papers I didn’t remember leaving there, and my computer screen reflected a hollow, confused expression back at me.

How did I get here?

The last thing I recalled was walking home from the bar. But now, the clock read ten in the morning. My stomach churned. Had I blacked out? If so, how had I ended up back here?

I rubbed my temples, the sensation of the leather gloves against my skin grounding me as I tried to untangle the threads of memory. All I found was an impenetrable void, stretching like a black fog. My gaze returned to the clock, and a knot tightened in my stomach, the familiar dread of lost time creeping over me.

He’d been here. Worn my skin. Lived my life. While I was locked away, forgotten in the recesses of my mind.

I rose from the chair, my body stiff and achy, and stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee. My limbs felt heavy, my exhaustion clinging to me like a second skin. As I fumbled for my phone, the screen lit up, and my breath hitched when I saw her.

My little mouse.

When did she become mine?

The thought lingered, unbidden and unwelcome. I didn’t have time for this—for her. The company I ran was in shambles. A billion dollars had gone missing, unaccounted for in my ledgers. My accountant had handed everything to Daveed, who passed it on to Makari, the family bookkeeper. He’d sort it out, as he always did. My businesses were legitimate, unlike most of the famiglia's. But this was my responsibility to fix.

And yet, she consumed my thoughts.

Mya was just down the hall, likely talking to Eden. Her presence was a siren’s call, soothing and maddening all at once. The two women couldn’t be more different. Eden, frail and birdlike, had lost the curves stress had stripped from her. Mya, however, was all supple seduction. Her body screamed sexy, woman, and the image of dying between her thighs sent a rush of heat through me that I had no business entertaining.

But she wasn’t mine. She was here to help Eden, and once her task was complete, I’d send her away. Whether on the first flight back home or to one of my loyal men, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t meant for me. I didn’t need to get my hands dirty.

There were soldiers for that.

Coffee in hand, I returned to my office and grabbed the remote buried beneath the clutter. The large screen on the wall flickered to life, revealing Eden and Mya in the surveillance room. I leaned forward, my pulse quickening as I watched them.

Eden spoke in a soft, strained voice about her nightmare, her words blurring in my ears. It wasn’t Eden I focused on but Mya. The way she leaned in, her nods of understanding, her clasped hands as if she carried the weight of Eden’s pain herself. She wasn’t just a psychiatrist; she was a lifeline. Not just for Eden, but for me, though I refused to admit it.

My little mouse had become an obsession.

The buzzing in my mind quieted as I zeroed in on her. I told myself I was watching for my gain, for Eden’s progress, but the truth was far murkier. Silas’ name broke through the haze, yanking me back to their conversation.

“He didn’t come to bed last night, and I can’t help but think he’s through with me,” Eden said, her voice cracking.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Mya replied gently, scribbling notes. “Have you tried calling him?”

Eden nodded. “He didn’t answer, which isn’t like him. Silas would always answer if I called.”

“Should I send the men to find him?” My voice cut in through the room’s speaker.

Both women looked up, startled. Eden’s expression softened with hope, while Mya’s sharp gaze locked onto the camera, accusing. She didn’t trust me. She was right not to.

“Do you know where he is, Sebastian?” Eden asked.

I hesitated. “I haven’t seen him all night.”

The statement unsettled me. It felt like a lie even as I spoke it. The dark voice in the back of my mind laughed cruelly: He’s a little tied up at the moment.

My chest tightened. Flashes of memory—shoving Silas down the basement stairs—flickered like static. I moved toward the padlocked door. The tunnels below were a maze; he could’ve gotten lost. My fingers curled around the knob, yanking, but it wouldn’t budge.

A weak pounding echoed from the other side.

“Help me.” Silas’ hoarse voice, barely a whisper, made my stomach churn.

“Silas?” I crouched, peering at the door’s base.

“Let me out of here, you motherfucker,” he rasped. “I said I didn’t mean it.”

The memory crystallized—him watching my little mouse. Fury surged through me, as fresh now as it was then.

“You’re being punished,” I said coldly.

“It was an accident, you psychopath!”

I didn’t flinch at the insult. “I may be a psychopath, but I’m not a peeping Tom.”

Eden’s shocked gasp broke through the moment. I left her at the door, her pleading voice following me, but I didn’t look back.

My little mouse deserved better. Deserved me. And Silas? He deserved whatever was coming to him.

I narrowed my eyes. She wasn’t in charge here. I would wait for her by her bedroom door, so she could remember who had the power. It sure as fuck wasn’t her. I walked up the winding stairs and down the second hallway to her room, conveniently connected to my own.

I could’ve used the primary suite, and kicked my father down to the first floor with his nursing staff, but that wing of the house had been created for my parents to use as often as they liked, and I didn’t have the heart.

Now that the Don was bedridden, this seemed like the best alternative.

But now, I couldn’t wait for the old man to die. He was becoming a liability and an obstacle. The amount of times my men caught some assassin or killer trying to climb through the window during my dad’s recovery…

I stood against the wall alongside her door jamb.

I couldn’t understand my pull to this woman. She wasn't really my type. She had no kids, and I was certain she owned several cats, like a cliche.

“I’m ready.”

Her bedroom door flung open, and I stood glued to the floor at a full stop. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I was only getting to know her.

She wore tight as fuck jeans I knew couldn’t be torn off without help. Her halter top was red. Like signaling a bull ready to charge. I stormed toward her, and wrapped my hand around the nape of her neck, and drew her into a kiss.

Her soft moans made my cock rock hard, and I ground against her. For a split second she was mine, in my arms, begging for more. Then she was pounding her fists against my chest, as if she remembered how she got here.

With an annoyed groan, I pulled away from my mouse, loving the flush of her dark skin. Her response to me was beautiful, and how she didn’t wear a bra with her top was amazing, even if her nipples were rock hard beneath the fabric.

I wanted to brand her, but it was our first date. I couldn’t do something rash this soon. Maybe I could mark her in her sleep. As dirty as it seemed, when she was with me in bed, her walls fell down.

Of course, she was sleeping, but that was beside the point. I was certain if I got her used to me in sleep, a part of her, even awake, would always recognize me unconsciously. It was already working with my scent. She smelled me as I approached, and I could feel her dragging her nose along the column of my neck.

A little thing like her turned me on, but she wasn’t ready for what I could do to her body.

“Let’s go, little mouse,” I said gruffly, grabbing hold of her hand and yanking her along behind me. If we stayed any longer, I would fuck her in the hallway. I doubted she would allow that, so it was best to eat dinner.

Hopefully, there would be no more interruptions tonight.