The Mafia's Undercover Princess

Mia's POV

To my surprise, after he made that last comment when he got into the car, we didn't speak again. The silence between us was sharp, and at the same time heavy. I spent most of the ride stealing glances at him, trying to read his face, but it was unreadable. I kept rehearsing his address in my head, matching it with the streets we passed, and everything pointed to this being his house as he brought the car to a temporary halt.

He rolled down his window using a button beside the door handle and then picked up a small black remote. He pressed a button in the remote, and I watched as the gate slowly slid open to one side. It moved smoothly, noiselessly, almost like it was part of the scene in a movie.

He drove in, we both got down from the car, and my jaw might as well have hit the floor.

The mansion stood tall and wide, a commanding structure that seemed to dominate the entire space. It was a modern duplex, but it didn't stop there as I continued to observe while I walked right behind him.

The exterior was dressed in sleek black stone and white finishing, floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the setting sun like glass eyes. The compound was huge, with trimmed hedges bordering both sides and a marble walkway leading to the double-door entrance. Two large stone lion statues flanked the stairs, adding to the grandeur.

At the centre of the space, a water fountain in the middle of the roundabout driveway gurgled peacefully.

This is one of the best houses I've ever seen in my life.

The don boss for a reason. The man has taste, a serious taste, I must say.

Even with how perfect it all looked, it hit me how easily one could miss what and who he really was. There was nothing suspicious from the outside. No guards with rifles pacing the fence. No signs. No camera bulges. That's the point.

Disguise.

Precision.

Again, from what I'd gathered, even the police were on their payrolls. Everything about him was all coordinated, I suppose.

"Welcome to my place," he said as he noticed the demeanor I had, with those unreadable expressions of his.

"Thank you," I replied. "Your place is really cool," I said as I shut the door of the first space we got in, behind me. "And smells friggin' delicious."

"It's fine," he said, stepping around to my side. "Let's get inside the main house."

'Oh, this isn't even the main deal?' I thought to myself, before replying. "Sure, that's cool."

He led the way through the walkway, the soft light from hidden ground fixtures casting gentle glows across the pavement. I followed behind, unsure if I was supposed to admire the place or remain alert. Inside what he referred to as the 'main house,' was no less impressive. The interior was rich but not loud. Everything was modern-clean lines, and expensive art hanging from the walls.

He climbed the staircase, and I trailed behind. We stopped at a door he pushed open gently.

"This is the master bedroom. You'll be staying here tonight."

His words made me freeze.

"With you?" I asked, turning to him sharply.

His lips twitched, but I wasn't sure it was a smile.

"Yeah, Aria," he said in that low, sarcastic version of my own tone, and there was no playfulness in his voice.

I tried to stay calm and tried to look confident, but his eyes were too focused. Like he was seeing something inside my skin. Then, just like that, he took a step closer.

I didn't see that coming. My body stiffened.

He closed the space between us until I could feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing against my hair. A shiver crawled down my spine, and I hated that it wasn't entirely from fear. I took a step back, but he stepped forward again-closing that space like it had offended him.

He was tall, and the way he loomed over me, it felt like the room shrank. Then he leaned in, close enough to graze his lips against my throat. The slight caress with his index finger was feather-light, but it sent a jolt right through me.

I should have expected it of a man like him, someone who is very dominant and prides himself on who he is.

His scent in the closet is making the pressure in my core irresistible even though he hasn't done anything except smell fantasies. To think that he hadn't even touched me fully, but my body was already humming with something I didn't want I couldn't just place right.

"Can I take my bath?" I asked quickly with a shaky voice. "I'm feeling hot."

"Can I take my bath? I am feeling hot."

I asked him almost trembling, not like I was actually feeling that way, but if that's what it's required to take down this pressure that I couldn't resist, so be it.

"Why do you look this scared," he said, his finger tracing a line up my arm this time. I could bet he saw the fear in my eyes, "when I haven't even touched this sexy body of yours yet?"

His voice was deep, yet smooth, and so it sent my nerves into a frenzy.

I swallowed hard. I wasn't necessarily scared. But he was triggering something I'd buried long ago.

Since the night I had that one careless one-night stand-the night that gave me Ramson-I had avoided intimacy. That had been my first and only time. I was young and drunk, and I didn't know that the liquor had contents that could increase one's lipido.

The rest was history, it was indeed a memorable experience but unfortunately, up till now, I haven't been able to come across the father of my child. Not to talk of having anything to trace whom he is aside from the necklace he left behind.

And since it's more of a masculine necklace, my son has it on his neck after he turned 6.

Since then, I have never allowed myself in a closed space with a man. Not like this. Not even close.

But now here I am.

His finger was still on my skin, and all I could do was think of the million inappropriate thoughts flooding my mind and no matter how hard to try to wave it away, it never did leave.

"What are you thinking right now, my Cinderella?" he asked suddenly, a smirk forming on his lips.

I blinked. "Nothing," I muttered.

The blush on my cheeks betrayed me. I could feel the heat rising, and the smug look on his face said he noticed.

He took a step back, finally giving me space to breathe. I turned to look around the room-massive king-size bed, dim lights, floor-to-ceiling curtains, and a walk-in closet half-open, revealing rows of shoes and jackets.

"There's only one bed in here," I said, slowly turning back. "And from the look of things, there are a lot of rooms in this house. I can stay in another one."

"Of course, we're sleeping in the same bed," he said coolly, not even blinking. "And your opinion doesn't count right now. You're my possession."

My jaw dropped slightly. "How would you say that? I don't belong to you. I'm not a possession."

He took another step toward me, his face seemed even more serious this time.

"As far as I brought you into my home, you are mine. That implies I own you, but not like a thing. It's more... in a priceless way."

He paused and locked eyes with me.

"In essence, you are mine to protect. And from now onward, I have no intention of ever letting another man have you. So yeah, maybe it sounds possessive. Maybe it is. You better get used to it and to your skull too."

"Get used to it?" I repeated, like he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

He didn't back down. He walked up to me, slow and steady, and leaned in again. His gaze was so intense, I felt like my knees might give out.

Then he did it again-gently nipping at my throat like a predator marking territory. I flinched, but he didn't care.

"Yes, you heard me right," he whispered. "And just so you're clear-I won't share your kisses, your love, or your body with anyone. Ever."

What was this? An oath? A warning? A declaration?

I stared at him, stunned. Was he serious? Or just trying to scare me?

I'd heard that mafia men could be controlling, but this? This felt like a military rule disguised as affection. I couldn't decide if I was flattered or suffocating.

"I mean..." I struggled for words, "You didn't even know me before now. What if I had a boyfriend? What if I was seeing someone before you met me?"

He let out a small, almost mocking laugh. "You don't need to look that way," he said. "When I want something, I keep it. And right now, that's you."