Blackmailed to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #2)

21. Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

S ebastian

The past rushed at me like a freight train, barreling through my confused mind with merciless speed. I was back in the house in Tirana, the air thick with the sweet smoky scent of burning wax, and the heady anticipation of pain and pleasure. Candles flickered in every corner, their flames dancing wildly in the dim room, casting shadows over my Amelia’s delicate features. My first toxic love.

The house was bustling with noise, as me and my fiancée argued in our wing. It was time to eat dinner with mia famiglia, but Amelia wanted to fight again.

“Why can’t you commit to me, Sebastian?” Amelia demanded. She had her hands thrown on her hips, rolling her eyes at me.

Amelia, my Albanian princess, with her dark, cascading curls, and pouty lips painted a deep crimson. She was the embodiment of spoiled luxury, born into a world of power and privilege, that made her as irresistible as she was insufferable. I loved her more than she loved me. And it showed.

Tonight, she wore a silk robe that clung to her curves, the thin fabric doing little to hide the fury vibrating through her small frame. She’d been ready to seduce, but I ruined that just like I do everything.

“I have committed to you. I gave you a ring, didn’t I?” I snapped back at her. All we did lately was fight. It was tiring. “Duty binds us.” I tried to stay calm, but my own anger was barely held in check. This was supposed to be a night of fun with the famiglia. However, Amelia had filled our suite with a ton of hazardous items for wax play, pain, control; the dangerous dance I craved. But Amelia had a way of turning everything sour. If she’d kept her legs closed, we wouldn’t be arguing right now to begin with. How hard was it to stay faithful?

“But we haven’t picked a date, or started wedding planning at all. The only stuff you’re interested in is business.” She picked up one of the soy-based candles I had just bought special from my recent business trip and threw it. I winced when I saw it make a slight dent in the wall.

“What the fuck is your problem, Amelia?” I demanded.

“You are! I’m good enough to fuck, and to burn, but not marry? All my friends have made it down the aisle, and where are we? Living in the same place, doing the same thing, not moving forward with our lives at all!”

I lost it. “Maybe I don’t want to do those things with you, Amelia. Have you ever thought of that?” I stalked towards her. I didn’t know what my intentions were, but I was over this argument. “You are only here because of the alliance forged. Nothing more, nothing less.” I sneered in her face.

She gasped as her face lit up with hurt, and I stopped in my tracks.

“If you don’t want those things with me, then why are you with me?” she cried. She was pretty when she cried, but these weren’t the tears I wanted to see fall down her face. She kept babbling on. “You don’t care about me, Sebastian. You never did!”

I stopped myself from gripping her throat and choking her to death.

“Are you stupid? An alliance that benefits my business, and whatever deals I forge with your family. You’re less than a breeder to me at the moment, because I don’t need an heir.”

“Silas is never coming back,” she whispered.

“Enough,” I snarled. I curbed the urge to yank her closer. I couldn’t stand the sight of her, let alone touching her skin.

I saw red. My hands clenched at my sides, and it took all of my focus not to slap her across her fucking face right now.

“I think you should think very hard about the next words out of your mouth,” I said through gritted teeth. I controlled myself, not hitting her in the face with my fist like I wanted. We’d been down that road before, and violence never ended violence. Not in this situation.

“Where is this coming from?” she wailed. Her eyeliner slid down her face. I stopped talking when I realized her face looked different. Waxier. Along with the mascara, her skin also melted down her face, hitting the floor.

“Why did you kill me?” she wailed. Her arms stretched out towards me, the flesh falling to the floor. An awful stench emanated from her body. Like a dead animal rotting in the trash.

I stumbled backwards, trying to get away from the horrifying scene in front of me. The room lit on fire, and she came towards me. This time, her bones were dressed in her nightgown. Her arms still stretched out, ready to embrace me in death.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, panic clawing at my throat, as I dropped to my knees on the floor. This wasn’t real. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead, mingling with the melting wax on the floor.

“Why did you kill me?” she wailed. The oxygen rapidly left the room. The smoke choked me, and I couldn’t breathe. “Why don’t you join me?” Her voice raised into an eerie cackle.

She reached me, leaning down, and I could see flames licking the sides of her very skull, enveloping her skeleton whole. Her burning hand seared my flesh–

I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribcage, as the remnants of the nightmare clung to me like a suffocating shroud. The room was dark, but I could still make out Mya’s silhouette beside me, her hand gently shaking my shoulder.

“Riccardo,” she whispered, her voice calm yet firm, the kind of voice that was meant to pull someone back from the edge.

But hearing that name, his name, hit me like a punch to the gut. She should know the difference between us. My blood ran cold, and anger flared up inside me, hot and irrational.

“Who the hell is Riccardo?” I snapped, my voice rough, still thick with sleep, and the tail end of that damn nightmare. I pushed myself up, my eyes narrowing on her in the darkness. “Are you seeing someone else? Is that it? Some lover you haven’t told me about?”

Mya looked at me, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. Her calm demeanor was only adding fuel to the fire that was burning inside me.

“Sebastian, it’s not what you think,” she said, her voice even, but with a hint of urgency. “It’s not some lover’s name.”

I glared at her, not wanting to believe it. The anger was still there, festering, but it was tangled up with something else now; a deep, gnawing fear. I was the one losing control, not her.

“You were calling me by his name,” I bit out, the words harsh and jagged. “Do you know what that does to me?” A war waged within me, between anger and sadness.

The anger wore out.

I rolled us over until I was on top of her. I saw a spark of fear in her eyes, and I craved more. She was responding to my dominance so beautifully.

Mya stuttered, “S-Riccardo is your alter, not another lover. I thought he was still here with me and having a nightmare. I was just trying to help.”

Quietly, I asked, “So, you’ve slept with him? You’ve cheated on me, future wife.”

Her eyes grew big and she stopped squirming in my arms, as she realized the implication of what I was saying. “N-no, I-I’m not. I w-wasn’t ch-ch-cheating.”

Her fear was intoxicating. I leaned forward to take a sniff of her neck. She flinched, and my cock grew hard. She thought she was so fucking smart. So in control. But I ran this shit. I didn’t give a fuck what she blathered about; alters or otherwise.

She thought she could cheat on me, and that shit wasn’t going to fucking fly. I’d deal with the rest, once my soon-to-be wife remembered her place. I placed one hand around her throat, and reached over into the nightstand with the other.

My glock rested on top, and I grabbed it and held it against her head. “So tell me, future wife,” I spat a bit in her face, laughing when she flinched. “Exactly how many men are you fucking?”

I held the gun to her head, and waited for her answer.

She shook her head a bit before the gun grazed her temple, then laid still like she was dead. “N-none.”

I almost believed her. I held her gaze for so long, I almost slumped my shoulders in relief. Then her eyes slid to the left, and she took a big gulp, and I didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

Click.

I sighed and sat up, straddling her pelvis. I scratched my head with the gun in frustration. “You should’ve died.”

Mya cringed away from me. I couldn’t understand. She broke a vow. I didn’t know what she meant about a fucking alter, but I knew one thing, even in her dreams, if another man touched her, they both would pay the price.

“P-please, Sebastian. It was an honest mistake.”

I shook my head, banging the gun against my skull. “No, no, no, no, no, my little mouse. Stand behind what you said, and take your fucking punishment.”

Tears filled her eyes as she faced the unknown. My cock was the hardest it had ever been in my life. I needed to punish her, brand her, and fuck her, so she would never forget this.

Mya sighed, a grounding presence in the storm raging inside my head. “Sebastian, I know this is hard for you. But Riccardo is part of you. I wasn’t trying to upset you; I was trying to reach out to him, because I thought he needed help.”

I shook her off, allowing the rage to take back over. “No.” Since a bullet hadn’t killed her, I was ready to punish her.

I reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a length of silk, winding it around her wrists with deliberate slowness. Her breathing quickened, and I could feel the tremble in her body, the way she leaned into my touch even as I bound her. When I was finished, I climbed off the bed and stood back for a moment, taking in the sight of her, vulnerable and restrained, her lips parted in anticipation.

“You need to be reminded who’s in control,” I murmured, my voice rough with desire. I could see the effect my words had on her, the way her pupils dilated, the flush spreading across her cheeks.

I moved, one hand running down the curve of her ribs before I pressed her down onto the bed, her wrists bound above her head. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she was caught between fear and need. I leaned down, my lips brushing against her ear as I whispered, “You’re mine, Mya. And tonight, I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”

Something was missing. I stretched to reach under the bed, and slid out a small black duffle bag. I pulled out the perfect item, shoving a ball gag into Mya’s mouth. I fastened the gag around her head, and moved the ball in between her lips, before tightening the straps.

“Perfect.” I could feel the smirk on my face.

She shivered under me, her breath coming in shallow gasps. I wasn’t gentle as I entered her, driving deep and hard, every thrust a reminder of the power I held over her. Her muffled cries filled the room, her body arching beneath me, as I took what was mine. Each movement, each touch, was a calculated punishment, a lesson in submission she wouldn’t soon forget.

But it wasn’t just about the punishment; it was about reclaiming control, about asserting the dominance that had been challenged. Her submission was my absolution, her surrender my vindication. And as she moaned beneath me, the line between punishment and pleasure blurred, until all that remained was the primal, undeniable connection between us.

When it was over, I didn’t release her immediately. I stayed close, my breath mingling with hers, my hands tracing the marks I’d left on her skin. Slowly, I untied her wrists, pulling her into my arms, the anger dissipating as the reality of what we’d just shared settled in. I took off the gag and kissed her lips softly.

“You’re mine,” I whispered again, softer this time, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Call me by that name again, and I’ll kill you,” I vowed.

She nodded against my chest, her body still trembling, and I knew she understood. There would be no more confusion about who I was, no more mistakes. She belonged to me, and I would never let her forget it.