Mated To The Mafia Werewolves

Arabella suppressed the urge to burst out laughing, finding the situation utterly absurd. The very idea of it was almost comical. However, she restrained herself; laughing might convey a lack of seriousness. She pondered whether his assumption that she would eagerly accept the offer was based on the naughty smirk adorning his face.

Shaking her head, she descended from the bed and approached him. Her voice brimming with intensity, she stated, “Alessandro De Fucking Luca, I am not some cheap whore who frequents your bed. Show respect for my name, and I will never grant you what you seek!” With each word, she punctuated her resolve by jabbing his chest.

Curious about the newfound boldness that encouraged her to face him head-on, Arabella pressed forward, unwilling to back down. Her fists clenched and unclenched, an indication of the anger that coursed through her. She mused about what he truly thought of her. Perhaps, he assumed she was just another one of the sluts in Cooan, someone he could use for his pleasure whenever he desired. And discard when he was done.

“If your unwillingness remains, be aware that I can obtain it from you forcefully,” he whispered into her ear, his tongue darting out to tease her earlobe. His grip encircled her waist, pulling her closer. “Remember, I am Alessandro De Luca, and no woman has yet resisted me.”

A shiver raced down Arabella’s spine, her heart pounded, and warmth spread throughout her body due to their proximity. His minty breath caressed her neck, and the sensations he stirred in her with his actions were undeniably unfamiliar.

“It appears my actions are rather pleasurable to you,” Sandro’s sea-green eyes twinkled mischievously.

Suppressing her own reaction, Arabella asserted firmly, “On the opposite.”

In a fleeting moment, as she held his gaze, she glimpsed an aspect of him beyond the familiar anger that usually clouded his captivating eyes.

“Tonight, I will offer you even more,” Sandro assured, his posture straightening as he scrutinized her attire. “Never appear in an outfit I haven’t selected.”

“You are not my father.”

“To hell with your father!” Sandro’s voice thundered, causing her to flinch.

He seized her hand, tugging her forcefully toward him. “You will obey me at all times, damn it, and never bring up that dead father of yours, who is undoubtedly rotting in hell.”

Arabella let out an exasperated groan, locking eyes with him while his grip tightened around her wrists.

“You wish to continue in your defiance? Perhaps, you should reconsider, for this time, I won’t hesitate to snap your fragile neck,” he threatened, his tone dripping with chilling resolve.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

He shoved her roughly, causing Arabella to wince as her already sore backside scraped against the wall.

After he left the room a while later, Arabella’s frustration reached a boiling point. She unleashed her anger by punching a pillow and muffling a scream within it. He was treating her like a mere plaything, his fucking toy. She clenched her fists, exhaling sharply to release the pent-up tension.

“You appear as though you could murder someone right now,” Francis remarked, entering the room.

“Perhaps, if the opportunity presented itself,” Arabella gritted her teeth, then swiftly exited the room.

Frowning, Francis watched her retreating figure. He had advised her to rest, but Sandro’s order to release her had taken priority. Though he was unaware of the reason behind the decision, he couldn’t argue with it.

A knock on the door snapped him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he mumbled, tidying the bed linen and stowing away the hospital gown Arabella had been wearing.

“Hi,” Janice greeted as she entered the room.

“Oh, hey, Janice,” Francis mumbled, grimacing and scratching the back of his neck.

“I’ve come to retrieve that bag,” she said, indicating the duffel bag containing her clothes at the foot of her bed.

“You’re welcome to take it,” Francis replied with a smile, which she reciprocated.

As Janice entered the room further and picked up her bag, she straightened and said, “Umh, thank you. For taking care of her.”

Observing his puzzled expression, she added, “Arabella. Thank you for nursing her back to health.”

“Ah, yes,” Francis nodded in realization.

Janice paused for a moment, sensing his hesitation to respond. When no words emerged, she smiled brightly at him. “I should get going.”

“Of course!”

“That was a bit awkward,” she mumbled to herself as she left the room.

Once Janice was out of sight, Francis closed the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes. It had been his first meaningful conversation with Janice since his employment began six months ago. He inhaled deeply and groaned as her lingering citrusy perfume wafted through the air. She was undeniably attractive, perhaps the most attractive person he had encountered besides Arabella.

Despite her often donning drab clothing, she still appeared amazing to him. He was excited that they had engaged in a brief conversation, even though it had been awkward. Nevertheless, it marked progress for him. He yearned for more, hoping for the opportunity to arise once again.

As Arabella rounded the corner, a hand abruptly yanked her. Her mouth opened to release a shriek, but no words escaped. Her abductor’s hand clamped over her mouth as he pulled her toward an unknown destination. She attempted to kick and struggle, but she ceased when she recognized the familiar voice.

“Stay still,” the voice instructed.

“Blaze?” Her voice was muffled by his hand.

“Yes,” he replied.

Arabella relaxed, albeit not entirely. She wasn’t being kidnapped, but she remained uncertain about where he was taking her. As they reached an opening, Blaze thrust her into what appeared to be a basement and shut the door. Leaning against the wooden door, he turned to face her.

“What’s going on, and why did you pull me like that?” She glared, though she doubted he could discern her expression due to the darkness.

His features became discernible due to a faint light sneaking into the room through a crack in the door.

“It’s dark in here,” she observed.

“It is,” Blaze affirmed. “It’s the best place I can talk to you without being seen.”

“So, what do you want?”

“Please don’t be disobedient. No matter what he asks of you, do it.”

“Why should I? I’d never willingly give myself to Sandro unless he forces me to!”

“Shhh,” Blaze grunted, placing his palm over her mouth. “Quiet.”

Arabella’s ears perked as she heard footsteps approaching their location. The footsteps paused, and she heard Blaze inhale deeply before exhaling.

“Now speak, but more softly,” he instructed.

Arabella nodded as he released her. “Why do you care about how I feel? You could get yourself into trouble.”

“Whether you’re inclined to do as he desires or not, resistance isn’t wise. Sandro is dangerous-far more than you realize.”

“What does he want from me, and why are you helping me?” Arabella inquired.

“Just listen to what I say,” Blaze replied before pushing her out of the room.

Glaring at the closed door, Arabella walked away. She navigated her way back to her room, yet Blaze’s words echoed incessantly in her mind. Nevertheless, complying with Sandro’s wishes was the farthest thing from her thoughts. She would sooner face death than carry out his commands.