Blackmailed to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #2)

22. Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

D r. Mya

I really can’t fucking fix him, can I? That was my first thought when I woke up sore the next morning. The realization hit me like a slap in the face, sharp and stinging. I had been clinging to the hope that I could fix Sebastian. That I could mend the broken pieces of him that were wrapped up in Riccardo’s darkness. But now, with every day that passed, every twisted encounter that bled into my nightmares, it was becoming painfully clear that there was no saving either of them.

Sebastian wasn’t just the man who kidnapped me; he was something darker, something unfixable. And Riccardo? He was a monster, plain and simple, as evidenced with every possessive touch. I had gone and fallen in love with both of them, equally monstrous, each feeding off the other’s sins.

Believe it or not, I didn’t get into psychiatry because I had some kind of ‘fix it’ savior complex. I wanted to help people. I wanted to stop the bad people from hurting children.

With newfound vigor, I rolled over, expecting him to be beside me in bed, but he was nowhere to be found. I laid my hand spread out against the sheets, and they were cold, so he’d left some time ago. What could be so important he had to leave me alone in bed?

I paced my room, my mind racing with escape plans that seemed less plausible with each frantic thought. I could run. I could leave in the dead of night, find my way back to some semblance of freedom. But every time I thought of the life I’d built before all this, I felt a wave of nausea. Could I even go back to it? After everything I’d seen, everything I’d endured? I doubted it. But staying here meant enduring more madness, more danger, and now I couldn’t deny it any longer: both Sebastian and Riccardo were the villains in my story.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, furious with myself. How could I have been so stupid? I knew better than to romanticize the bad boys, to think I could change someone who didn’t want to be changed. And yet here I was, caught between two sides of the same violent, unstable man. I felt like screaming, like tearing the room apart in frustration. Instead, I stood still, paralyzed by my own recklessness.

I tried shaking off these feelings, and got ready to start my day, taking extra care in twisting my hair out of my face and pinning it back. Sebastian made sure he flew in products specially for me. I walked to the walk-in closet, I searched through the new clothes that Sebastian had provided for me, until I found my power suit. I stared at the dark purple power suit hanging in the back of the closet, its deep, velvety fabric catching the dim light filtering through the bedroom window. The suit was a striking statement of both authority and mystery. Its rich, almost regal, hue suggested both elegance and danger.

Purple; the color of royalty. To me, the suit was more than just a piece of clothing. It represented the layers of control and dominance that Sebastian, and perhaps his alter, Riccardo, exerted over this world. The dark purple, almost an enigma in itself, hinted at the complexities and hidden truths lying beneath the surface. It was a constant reminder of the boundaries I had to navigate, both personally and professionally.

I could do this.

I slipped it on and headed out of the bedroom, box breathing as I made my way to his office. We were sharing it temporarily, but if he wasn’t in bed with me, then he must be in some kind of important meeting.

I was going to interrupt it.

His mental health was more important than some company’s bottom line. I walked to his office and let myself in. On any normal day it was empty, so this wouldn’t have been a big deal. However, when the door swung open, revealing what was inside, I couldn’t help but stop in my tracks.

Sebastian was seated at his desk, smoking a cigar, and so were the men around him. I guess maybe they were his close advisors, or his board of directors. I wasn’t certain. I knew that these weren’t the type of men that worked a regular nine to five.

Something was wrong with them.

I froze in the doorway, my eyes taking in the scene before me. Sebastian was seated behind his grand mahogany desk, his expression inscrutable as he conversed with three men, whose presence immediately set my nerves on edge. They were a stark contrast to the refined elegance of the office.

The first man, sitting closest to Sebastian, was a hulking figure, with a face like a slab of rough stone. His dark eyes were cold and calculating, and his tailored suit, though expensive, seemed almost like an afterthought on his massive frame. A cigar dangled between his thick fingers, the end glowing like a smoldering ember in the dim light. His presence was intimidating, and I could sense an underlying violence in his stillness.

The second man was leaner, but no less unsettling. His sharp, angular features were framed by slicked-back dark hair, and his eyes darted around the room with a predatory gleam. He wore a suit that was impeccably cut, but there was something about the way he moved; quick, almost too quick, that suggested a predilection for danger. The cigar he held was more of a prop, a means to convey a sense of importance, rather than a genuine pleasure.

The third man was a study in contrasts. His suit was meticulously tailored, and he wore an air of refined arrogance that was almost theatrical. His face was sharply handsome, but there was a hardness in his gaze that spoke of calculated ruthlessness. He leaned back in his chair, the cigar smoke curling around him like a cloak. The way he regarded me with an almost amused interest made my skin crawl.

I could hardly believe these men were simply businessmen. They exuded a menacing air, their casual demeanor belying an unsettling undercurrent of power and threat. They were more akin to predators lounging in the shadows of their lair.

The men’s collective gaze shifted toward me as I entered, and the unspoken question in their eyes made my heart race. I had no doubt that these were not ordinary business associates. The tension in the room was palpable, and it was clear that their presence here was far from benign.

Before I could take another step forward, the third man, with his arrogant smirk, raised a hand in a dismissive gesture. The cold, calculated look in his eyes was enough to make me hesitate. I had come here to confront Sebastian about his alter, but the atmosphere was suddenly charged with a sense of danger that made me reconsider my approach.

“Sebastian, there’s a cunt somewhere it shouldn’t belong,” the man who smirked at me stated.

I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. The insult stung, but it was Sebastian’s reaction that truly terrified me. His eyes darkened, something dangerous flickering in them, as he stepped forward. He moved so fast, too fast for anyone to stop him. In a blink, he had the soldier by the collar, slamming him back against the wall, with a force that sent a sickening crack echoing through the hall.

“What did you call my woman?” Sebastian quietly asked.

The tension in the room ranked higher, and I could see the moment Sebastian changed into Riccardo. His eyes darkened for a second, and then the man before me changed his demeanor.

The idiot who opened his mouth kept shoving his foot deeper. “I mean, a cunt is only good for one thing, right? She should be on my dick, not interrupting this business me–”

Riccardo exploded and attacked the man, fists flying. He growled out his displeasure each time his fist made a connection. It almost reminded me of a child getting their ass whooped.

“Keep. Your. Fucking. Eyes. Off. My. Wife.” Each word was emphasized with a harder punch.

The other two men were quiet, as their colleague was beaten to a pulp. But Riccardo wasn’t done. He dropped his beaten, bloody prey to the ground, and walked over to his desk while he rolled up his sleeves.

He didn’t seem to mind the blood splatter.

“Gentlemen, meet my soon-to-be wife, Dr. Mya Rivers.” Riccardo spoke to the other business consultants like they hadn’t seen him beat the shit out of their colleague, for being so rude to me. “I will reiterate, my future wife is a goddamn doctor,” he growled.

Both men spoke over the top of each other, trying to show how impressed they were.

“That’s ama–”

“Truly wonderf–”

It was hard to hear either of them over the other’s adoration.

“I am not your wife,” I mumbled.

It went quiet. I couldn’t hear anyone breathing. I think even the man on the floor was playing dead right now. Fire blazed in Riccardo’s eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” Riccardo growled, his nails digging into the desk as he glared at me.

I cleared my throat and threw my shoulders back. “I am not your wife.”

“Indeed,” Riccardo mumbled, surprising me.

He abandoned what he was doing and grabbed his phone. He dialed and held it up to his ear, never removing his gaze from mine.

“Get here yesterday,” he barked on the line.

“What are you doing?” I took a step back.

He took a menacing step toward me. “As you so elegantly pointed out, wife, we aren’t married. Yet.”

I didn’t like how he said that. I didn’t like the gleam in his fucking eye. I couldn’t read him, and I was spiraling.

“S-so?”

“I’ll rectify that.” He shrugged. “And when I’m finished, I’ll fuck you so hard, you won’t question who you belong to ever again. You’ll feel me for days.”

I shuddered. The man had a way with words, I’d give him that. But he was just Sebastian’s evil doppelganger at best. He wasn’t the original, and I couldn’t have feelings for someone who wasn’t truly real.

I mean, I won’t say that to him. It’s my own prejudice, something I’m working on. But I couldn’t help feeling that alters, while an extension of ourselves, formed after trauma in some way.

That made their reality a little shaky. But I could persevere. I always did.