Page 53
Story: Savage Don's Captive
I stare at him, wondering why he isn’t referring to himself as part of it. His words echo in my mind, and it physically hurts me to admit out loud that he’s right.
“The Commission isn’t going to stop until they stop this RICO case. And if they have to bring you down along with your father, they will. In their eyes, you’re Marco’s daughter, not Isabella’s. And you need to do something about that.”
“Don’t you get it? I want nothing to do with any of this fucking shit.”
“Then what do you want, Alessa?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You want to go home? They’re going to find you before you can even set foot in New York. You want to go to your daddy and ask for help? News flash, Alessa—he’s no match for the Commission.”
“Then what do you want me to do, Dominic?!” I slam my palm against the mattress. Appetite gone.
“I want you to fucking cooperate, Goddamnit!” He raises his voice, and I try my best not to flinch.
“And what?! Let the Commission kill my father, too?!”
“The Commission didn’t kill your mother, Alessa.” His hands drag down his face in frustration.
“You don’t know shit.”
“Oh, but I do. And you know what else I know? I know that your father isn’t going to come and save you. Not now, not ever. If he had some inkling of courage in his bones, he could have at least tried, right? A father should do anything to save his kid. At least that’s the mob way—family first.”
Dominic may as well just punch me in the stomach. This was his plan… Lure me in with food, let me drop my guard, and then hit me where it hurts.
“I hate you,” I hiss. And just like that, we’re back to square one.
“You’ve said that already. But you can hate me while staying alive. I’m offering you something to save you from being just another number in the Commission’s book of victims. You’re going to die a black sheep. An embarrassment. A disappointment.”
“He’s the only family I have left,” I whisper, and his look immediately softens.
“You said it yourself—you haven’t talked to him in almost a year. And let’s be real, Alessa… it’s not just time that’s kept you apart. He stopped being your father long before that.”
My heart shatters into a million tiny pieces on the floor. He’s not wrong. My father isn’t going to win some award for being the best father in the world, but even shitty fathers show up, right?
“Would you do it?” I ask. “If it were you in this situation, would you sell your father out?”
“In a heartbeat.” I blink up at him. “But then again, I wouldn’t be in your situation because I know my father would’ve eliminated anyone who dared threaten me.”
I turn my head, trying to hide the single tear slipping down my cheek. Shame burns hotter than ever before, and it’s all because of my coward of a father. Anger boils in my veins from the fact that I’m stuck in this mess because of his weakness. Because he was too scared to protect his own family, and now I’m paying for it.
“Look, Alessa,” Dominic sighs. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret—the Commission wanted you because they planned to use you as bait, hoping it would lure Marco out of hiding. They believed your father cared enough to surrender for you. After that, they left it up to me to decide what to do with you. It means I can get you out of this shit alive.”
Realization knocks the air from my lungs.
“Did you know?” My head snaps in his direction, eyes narrowing. “When you were at the Crimson gala four years ago?”
“Did I know that you were a Russo?” I nod, eyes stinging. “No, I didn’t even know you were from around here at all, let alone Isabella’s daughter.”
“But you bought me.” The memory hits me like a slap—finding that receipt on his nightstand after the most intense night of my life. Lot number seven. Gold mask. Three million fucking dollars. Like I was a prize thoroughbred at an auction.
His eyes darken, but he doesn’t deny it.
“You know what’s rich?” I laugh. “I spent that whole goddamn night at the gala trying to dodge whoever bought me. Hiding behind pillars, ducking behind groups of Wall Street assholes...” I set my glass down hard enough to make the ice clink. “And there you were at the bar, watching me squirm like it was all some twisted game. Making me think I had a choice when you’d already paid for me like some high-end hooker.”
The humiliation from that night burns in my chest all over again. I’d felt so powerful, so in control when I decided to follow him to his room. What a fucking joke.
Dominic’s jaw tightens. “It was a charity event, Alessa—”
“Bullshit!” I knock the food tray off the edge of the bed. “What was I to you? Some hooker you decided to fuck because you could?”
“You weren’t forced to be there,” he counters, voice dropping to that dangerous register.
“The Commission isn’t going to stop until they stop this RICO case. And if they have to bring you down along with your father, they will. In their eyes, you’re Marco’s daughter, not Isabella’s. And you need to do something about that.”
“Don’t you get it? I want nothing to do with any of this fucking shit.”
“Then what do you want, Alessa?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You want to go home? They’re going to find you before you can even set foot in New York. You want to go to your daddy and ask for help? News flash, Alessa—he’s no match for the Commission.”
“Then what do you want me to do, Dominic?!” I slam my palm against the mattress. Appetite gone.
“I want you to fucking cooperate, Goddamnit!” He raises his voice, and I try my best not to flinch.
“And what?! Let the Commission kill my father, too?!”
“The Commission didn’t kill your mother, Alessa.” His hands drag down his face in frustration.
“You don’t know shit.”
“Oh, but I do. And you know what else I know? I know that your father isn’t going to come and save you. Not now, not ever. If he had some inkling of courage in his bones, he could have at least tried, right? A father should do anything to save his kid. At least that’s the mob way—family first.”
Dominic may as well just punch me in the stomach. This was his plan… Lure me in with food, let me drop my guard, and then hit me where it hurts.
“I hate you,” I hiss. And just like that, we’re back to square one.
“You’ve said that already. But you can hate me while staying alive. I’m offering you something to save you from being just another number in the Commission’s book of victims. You’re going to die a black sheep. An embarrassment. A disappointment.”
“He’s the only family I have left,” I whisper, and his look immediately softens.
“You said it yourself—you haven’t talked to him in almost a year. And let’s be real, Alessa… it’s not just time that’s kept you apart. He stopped being your father long before that.”
My heart shatters into a million tiny pieces on the floor. He’s not wrong. My father isn’t going to win some award for being the best father in the world, but even shitty fathers show up, right?
“Would you do it?” I ask. “If it were you in this situation, would you sell your father out?”
“In a heartbeat.” I blink up at him. “But then again, I wouldn’t be in your situation because I know my father would’ve eliminated anyone who dared threaten me.”
I turn my head, trying to hide the single tear slipping down my cheek. Shame burns hotter than ever before, and it’s all because of my coward of a father. Anger boils in my veins from the fact that I’m stuck in this mess because of his weakness. Because he was too scared to protect his own family, and now I’m paying for it.
“Look, Alessa,” Dominic sighs. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret—the Commission wanted you because they planned to use you as bait, hoping it would lure Marco out of hiding. They believed your father cared enough to surrender for you. After that, they left it up to me to decide what to do with you. It means I can get you out of this shit alive.”
Realization knocks the air from my lungs.
“Did you know?” My head snaps in his direction, eyes narrowing. “When you were at the Crimson gala four years ago?”
“Did I know that you were a Russo?” I nod, eyes stinging. “No, I didn’t even know you were from around here at all, let alone Isabella’s daughter.”
“But you bought me.” The memory hits me like a slap—finding that receipt on his nightstand after the most intense night of my life. Lot number seven. Gold mask. Three million fucking dollars. Like I was a prize thoroughbred at an auction.
His eyes darken, but he doesn’t deny it.
“You know what’s rich?” I laugh. “I spent that whole goddamn night at the gala trying to dodge whoever bought me. Hiding behind pillars, ducking behind groups of Wall Street assholes...” I set my glass down hard enough to make the ice clink. “And there you were at the bar, watching me squirm like it was all some twisted game. Making me think I had a choice when you’d already paid for me like some high-end hooker.”
The humiliation from that night burns in my chest all over again. I’d felt so powerful, so in control when I decided to follow him to his room. What a fucking joke.
Dominic’s jaw tightens. “It was a charity event, Alessa—”
“Bullshit!” I knock the food tray off the edge of the bed. “What was I to you? Some hooker you decided to fuck because you could?”
“You weren’t forced to be there,” he counters, voice dropping to that dangerous register.
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