

The Mafia's Little Captive
Chandana tummeda · Ongoing · 83.7k Words
Introduction
Everyone calls me naive and innocent, and in every way, I am. When I took a fancy in peering at FREDERICK SALVATORE each time he stopped by the orphanage to drop off his donation, it was just out of mere curiosity. I find him fascinating and alluring, like a piece of art. But when I get kidnapped and put up for auction, he's in the crowd of the deadliest people I've ever seen. He put the craziest bid on me and I get to find out that his name isn't FREDRICK SALVATORE.
He's the notorious EAGAN KING and this is his world. Now I understand why he has that unexplainable dark aura around him. Is it possible to find him less fascinating now that I know what he's truly like?
Chapter 1
ASTRID
Walking down the endless, lonely alley, I try to push back the lewd thoughts invading my mind. Readjusting the bags of groceries on each of my arms, I count each step I take, but even that makes me think of him. Makes me recall his long, bold strides that leave me breathless.
God, this is frustrating!
Or sick. Or dirty. Or a sin. Yes, a bloody sin! Harboring dirty, filthy thoughts about a man. It's one of the biggest sins. Sister Grace constantly reminds us to never harbor such thoughts and does say we'll rot in hell for it. But how can I not?
Living in the orphanage all my twenty years of existence, I never knew much about how fiercely enchanting the other gender can be.
The guys I grew up with in the orphanage were lanky, pale, and incredibly mischievous. Nothing unique and charming. And I thought every other guy out there was the same. I was never aroused or even curious about guys. At the very least, I found them boring, messy, and complicated and I tend to stay around my foster sisters more.
But then, everything changed that afternoon Fredrick Salvatore walked out of the black car that had unexpectedly pulled up in our drive.
Sister Grace had been so excited to see him, and while everyone else offered their greetings, my tongue was tied.
Never had I imagined such perfection in a male form. But there he was, proving me wrong in every way.
His black attire had been gracefully completed with a black coat and black boots. His hair was neatly packed in a bun and his stubbles were perfectly trimmed. He had opal eyes. The first I've ever seen. He was ruggedly built. Taut muscles were bulging through his black coat and the few buttons of his shirt that were open displayed a tattoo on his chest. His pants were tightly fitted, showing off the lines of his legs and an enticing bulge in front. The intense and alluring scent of his cologne dominated the place, echoing his presence. But even without it, he seemed to know how to take the spotlight where he goes. And he did it with us, making the rest of us feel invisible.
He would pass for some kind of Lord, or the devil we were warned about if he didn't have some kind of reverence for Sister Grace.
I found him terrifyingly intriguing and unnerving. He's a buff man who hardly smiled and only stretched his lips slightly when Sister Grace said something funny. His brows were furrowed and his broad shoulders were taut and rigid.
Sister Grace was chatting with him and giddily welcoming him to the orphanage but his face remained taut. Taut and cold. It was so cold that I felt goosebumps creeping up my spine.
She had to yell at me before I could snap out of it. She dismissed us and took him to the visitor's room.
I didn't leave. Subtly, I waited till they were done and he was out. His intimidating physique and height awed me that I was gaping again.
This man would crush me in a second if I say as much as a hello to him, or go close to him. But even that weirdly excited me. The thought of being close to him left a weird wetness between my legs. It was the first time I ever felt that way. When he kissed Sister Grace goodbye, I felt his gaze brush past me.
I gasped. But it was too quick and in the next second, he was gone. It's been six months since that day and I've never been able to get that moment out of my head.
It stayed in my head and after that day, he dropped by once every month and I always hid in a corner and peered at him.
My curiosity got the best of me and I had to ask Sister Grace about him. I can clearly remember the weird look she shot me before giving me a brief reply.
"His name is Fredrick Salvatore. He's our biggest donor and has great plans for the orphanage."
"Hmm." I had tried to appear less curious but my mind was at war, trying to feel every inch of his name. Fredrick Salvatore. An edgy name for an edgy man.
"He's 38 years old and a bit eccentric. I suggest you stay away from him, Astrid. Don't let your over-curiosity put you in harm's way."
"Are you saying he's dangerous?"
"No. I'm saying that you should be careful. Don't get friendly with him like you do with our other donors. He's certainly not someone who can endure your overly bubbly nature. You've noticed how moody he gets, right?"
"Yeah." For a man as strikingly handsome as he is, I wonder why he never bothers to smile.
I've always wondered what he would look like with a bit of a smile. No matter how little.
"You're a sweet girl, Astrid. The smartest here. I love everything about you. And I know you always wanna be kind to our donors. But Fredrick isn't the usual kind. He doesn't look like he is."
"What do you mean, Sister Grace?"
"I don't know. He just seems a bit off. Like a…"
"Menace." I complete it and she nods.
"So stay away. Please. Don't bother getting friendly with him."
That night, I went to bed with a heavy heart. Sister Grace's warning leaves behind a pit of guilt in me. I try to ask for forgiveness from the universe but I end up fantasizing about him instead.
That's when I realize that I'm a goner and I can never get Fredrick Salvatore out of my mind.
I indulge my crazy urge to always peer at him when he visits. He becomes my only vice and it makes me feel a great tide of shame and guilt. Sometimes, I try to confess to Sister Grace about it, but I lose my courage.
I can't tell her that I didn't take her advice. I can't tell her that I committed the same sin she warned against every morning sermon. That I go to bed with thoughts of a man and I awaken to it. It'll break her heart.
So it became my dirty little secret and peering at him became my guilty pleasure. One that's gonna take me down the farthest part of hell.
The screeching sounds behind me force me out of the way with a yelp. The black van stops in front of me and three men jump out.
They grab me before I can even think of running off. My bags fall and I watch the tomatoes Sister Grace had specifically requested rolling and disappearing in all directions. Firm hands cover my mouth, muffling my screams as I get hurled into the van and the door shut.
"Where are you taking me?!" That's all I can say before I feel a piercing feeling in my arm and I slowly black out.
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