The Mafia's Snare

POV: Roman

I paced the length of my compound, a restless, predatory energy thrumming in my veins. My phone was pressed against my ear.

"Have you caught the men who drugged me?" I demanded. My voice was a low, aggressive bark echoing off the marble walls.

"Yes, boss. The bastard responsible is tied up down in the dungeon," the voice on the other end confirmed.

My large hands clenched into tight, bone-white fists. The memories of that night flashed through my mind, vivid, raw, and infuriating. That powerful drug had forced my body into a state of excruciating arousal. It felt like boiling lava pumping through my veins, demanding immediate release. I was forced to abruptly stop my convoy at the nearest strip club just to find relief. My men had blindly grabbed the closest girl and brought me Tessa.

I never threaten women into my bed. They usually drop to their knees and spread their legs for me willingly. But that night, my dick had been painfully, agonizingly hard. It throbbed with a ruthless demand, and little Tessa had been frustratingly stubborn. She fought me. She clawed at me. She defied me.

"Before I arrive at the cold, damp dungeon, run a complete, exhaustive background check on the stripper," I barked the order into the phone, halting my steps outside the heavy steel door. "I want every detail."

I ended the call and shoved the phone into my pocket.

Stepping inside the dimly lit dungeon, the damp air washed over me, smelling of rust and fear. I immediately spotted the bloodied, battered man struggling futilely against thick, abrasive ropes tying him to a heavy wooden chair. I ignored his pathetic, muffled grunts.

Moments later, footsteps echoed behind me. My trusted right-hand man, Gage, walked into the room. He was noticeably late.

"You're late," I murmured. My voice was dangerously soft, barely above a whisper.

Without a single second of hesitation, I fluidly drew my throwing knife from my belt. My arm snapped forward. I hurled the steel blade straight into Gage's thick thigh.

Gage groaned in sheer agony. His face contorted in pain, pale and sweating, but out of sheer terror and ingrained respect, his hands remained at his sides. He didn't dare reach down to remove the blade embedded deep in his flesh.

Standing tall and imposing, I stared him down. "You never keep me waiting, Gage. Leave it there," I commanded coldly.

Blood soaked through his dark trousers, dripping onto the concrete floor. I crossed my arms, calm and collected. "Give me the specific intel I requested regarding the girl."

Through gritted teeth, Gage choked out the report. "Tessa has officially quit the club. But I successfully tracked down her father. A man named Silas Mercer."

A smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth. Silas Mercer. I cannot forget my silver-haired dove. She was different from the rest of the cheap whores who usually threw themselves at me. She was a tight virgin, fighting me every inch of the way, and she desperately needs to pay for the constant, throbbing erections she has been causing me ever since that night. Just the thought of burying my dick deep inside her tight body again made my blood run hot.

"What else?" I pressed.

"Tessa's family is currently severely struggling financially," Gage forced out, shifting his weight off his bleeding leg. "Her father, Silas, is drowning in huge, unpayable debt. The man owes money all over town."

The corner of my lips curled up into a dark, wicked smile. Perfect. I know exactly how I am going to meticulously trap her in my web. She will have nowhere to run.

Having heard enough, I lazily waved a hand. "Remove the knife," I ordered casually. "Go treat your bleeding wound, and return quickly. I have a specialized job for you."

Gage let out a ragged breath, gripping the hilt of the knife. He yanked it free with a wet squelch, muttered a tight "Yes, Boss," and limped out of the room.

Dismissing Gage, I turned my full, deadly attention back to the tied-up captive. I closed the distance between us and grabbed his dirty blindfold. I pulled it off, then yanked the filthy gag from his mouth.

"Fuck you, Volkov!" the bloody man immediately spat. Venom laced his desperate, raw voice.

I wiped a speck of his saliva from my cheek. "Nah, I think I'll pass," I shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by the insult. "I only like warm pussies."

"Bastard! I hope you die and rot in hell!!" the captive fumed. He thrashed wildly against the tight ropes, making the heavy wooden chair rock against the concrete.

"But you're the one dying," I smiled a terrifyingly calm smile.

I stepped forward, drawing my gun. I pressed the freezing cold metal barrel directly flush against his sweaty temple. He froze, his chest heaving, but the idiot remained foolishly defiant to the bitter end.

"I should have used lethal poison," he sneered, glaring up at me. "Not just an aphrodisiac to drug you."

I slowly shook my head at the man's stupidity. "I seriously have no use for you anymore," I told him flatly. "I already know exactly who hired you and sent you to do the job."

His eyes widened a fraction. The defiance faltered.

"Tell your mom I said Hi," I smiled brilliantly.

I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot deafened the small room. I shot the man directly between the eyes. Blood and brain matter splattered the concrete floor and the damp stone wall behind him. His lifeless body slumped forward, straining against the ropes.

I tucked my gun away and calmly stepped out of the dungeon. Two of my men stood guard by the entrance.

"Thoroughly take care of the bleeding trash," I instructed them, my tone flat. "Specifically sever the dead man's head. Put it in a box and send it directly to Malachi."

"Yes, Boss."

I strode down the long, quiet hallway. Gage approached me from the medical wing. His injured leg was now heavily bandaged, causing a slight limp in his usually smooth stride, but he was ready for orders.

"Approach Silas with an offer," I ordered as the two of us walked side-by-side toward my massive, opulent study. "Loan him some money. A huge amount."

Gage looked at me, processing the command. "Just loan it to him?"

"Yes." My mind calculated the trap flawlessly. Silas Mercer was a desperate, broken man. He would snatch up the cash without a second thought, and he would never be able to pay back a huge Mafia loan. The interest alone will drown him. When he inevitably defaults, that exact insurmountable debt will become my ultimate, unbreakable leverage. When the time came to collect, I wouldn't ask for cash. I would claim Tessa.

I pushed open the double oak doors to my study and walked over to the liquor cabinet. I poured myself a heavy glass of amber whiskey, the ice clinking loudly in the quiet room. I took a slow sip, letting the burn ground my thoughts. I reminded myself, as I stared at the amber liquid, that I only ever fuck for pure physical pleasure. I never grow emotionally attached to my whores. I do not love. Love is a weakness I do not possess.

But there is just something profoundly addicting about Tessa Mercer. The memory of her tight body wrapped around me, her fingernails clawing my back, her fiery defiance—I just can't get enough of it. My dick hardened again just picturing her silver-white hair spread across my dark sheets.

Whenever Roman Volkov wants something in this world, he inherently gets it. Right now, I deeply want Tessa Mercer. I want to break her stubborn streak and bury myself in her tight pussy until she begs for more. And I am going to get her, no matter the cost.