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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
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THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
A tickling sensation feathered across her face rousing Genevieve from a dreamless slumber. She yawned and scratched at her face. The tickling moved to her forehead. She peeled her eyes open, reluctant to give up her languid serenity. Holding a lock of her hair, Clint had fanned it out into a little brush and was skipping it along her brow. During the night, she'd turned onto her side and he now spooned herwith his hard body oddly soft against her backside. One of his musculararms draped over the pillow above her head with his hand lying slack. That was the one tickling her with her own hair. His other arm rested on her body, stretched over her hip, his fingers manipulating the flesh of her thigh,stimulating her to full wakefulness and keen awareness of him. She inhaled deeply, stretching, reveling in the enduring afterglow oftheir fevered passion.He pressed his lips to her ear. "Morning."An object poked her from behind. A long, hard object. She cleared herthroat. "It's hal
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Genevieve was in love and head over heels for Clint, she decided to go with Clint to his family house to pack a few things, while she waited inside the car he went straight in to get his things. Covington walked in and packed some few clothes , he had earlier received an email from one of his men who served as his eyes. They updated him about his superiors who were after his life , ever since his actions during his vacation about getting married and quitting his work with them they have been tailing him and now they finally know where he lives . They were going to find him and kill him especially Genevieve whom they perceive as his weakness. Jennifer walked in immediately after knocking for hours and getting no response " Clint is that you?." She asked as she walked towards his room As she walked closer she felt someone walk behind her and she stopped to see a shadow behind her , she froze on the spot and screamed, Clint heard a her screaming and ran out of his room to see
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
“Good. Now, there are servants in the house. Don’t take that as hope. They will not help you. The phone goes through a switchboard. The operator won’t help you either. If you seek their help, they will report it to me and you’ll be punished.”She flinched at the warm hand on the back of her neck, but he wasn’t there to hurt her. Instead, he massaged the tight muscles, a feeling that was comforting in spite of everything. She shouldn’t want his hands anywhere near her, but if she was stuck with this man, she much preferred kindness to cruelty or pain.“I can’t let you go, and I won’t be able to resist killing you . But I’ll be good to you if you let me, Genevieve . Are you going to let me?”Each time her name rolled off his tongue, it was as if a piece of her will broke off from her and floated away. She wanted to argue about belonging to him but knew that wasn’t the way to get to the kindness he offered. She nodded, not wanting to have to call him his name again. He let it slide.
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
In between her moments of fear and indignation, he'd glimpsed the half-starved glances she’d aimed his way. It was the effect he’d always had on women. The combination of danger, money, and looks was too irresistible for most females of the species—even a captive like Genevieve whom he had just pretend to love .He did not want to imagine how disappointed she must be .He intended to make this as easy on her as possible, if she’d let him. Each tiny step toward complete submission would be rewarded. Each misstep, punished. By the time he was finished with her, she would crave him so deeply, she wouldn’t remember this had all started with her forceful loss of freedom.It had been a long night, especially so close to Christmas. Though he couldn’t imagine his men caring one way or the other about how Genevieve had come to be here, the maid and the workers didn’t need to know. He’d have to make sure only the trusted ones have acess to her .Once he’d made the choice to get involved in R
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Dave stared at the moon shining in through the large windows, gritting his teeth as Genevieve’s breath evened out in sleep, the cat still purring in her arms. It was so simple. She was attracted to him. She was desperate to stay safe. That equation should have added up right.But the amount of terror she’d experienced at a mild spanking told him all he needed to know. If there had been any doubt, when he’d slipped his finger inside her, he’d known. She’d been dry. No arousal. No reaction. She wasn’t kinky. Not even a little bit.In a perfect world, Genevieve would have had secret fantasies about being dominated her whole life. She would have tried to resist, but her body would betray her.No matter how scared and upset she was, her cunt would have been at least a little wet. Her clit would be swollen. She’d be flushed and flustered. If she already found him physically attractive, which she’d admitted to, a mild spanking would have her body reacting to him in a favorable way. Instea
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY
It was a full three days before Clint saw Genevieve again. He’d been careful to avoid her as he was sure she’d been careful to avoid him. But it was inevitable they’d run into each other eventually. As it happened, they both went to the kitchen one afternoon at the same time for a late lunch.She jumped when she saw him, and he had to bite back a curse. He found himself angry with her. He’d uprooted his routine to stay out of her way. He was letting her live. He wasn’t molesting her. He was taking care of her needs and keeping her comfortable. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Except keeping her locked away against her will.He’d seen her naked. And touched her breast. Had sex . And spanked her. None of that should be cause for this much anxiety or jumpiness, no matter who he was. He glanced down, noticing his erection and knew she must have noticed it, too.“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. But the gruff way he said it didn’t sound believable to his own ears. For the past three
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
At first she froze, afraid he wouldn’t stop with kissing, but after a few seconds of his lips caressing over hers, he pulled away.“We’ve got to work on that. No one will believe that kiss.”The heat rose to her face, and she looked down at her hands. “I-I’ll do better.”“Yes, you will,” he said. “Go get your papers. You can go back to your room. I expect you to study and know everything in that packet by tomorrow evening.”Genevieve got up without a word and retreated to the kitchen. When she got back to her room she locked the door. He might be mad if he found it locked to him, but it was the only way she’d feel safe enough to sleep.***Clint contemplated the enigma that lived in his house. She had to be a sub. Somewhere deep down. He’d been surprised from her answers that she had dated more than one man.Her level of fear toward him had led him to believe she might be an introvert to men. She’d in fact had several boyfriends in college, and was what he’d call experienced. Ev
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Clint paced the entry hall, the usually unobtrusive Christmas music beginning to set his teeth on edge. His brothers would arrive in less than an hour. He still second-guessed the plan. Genevieve had improved. When he’d instructed her to do a better acting job, she’d delivered. He couldn’t imagine how afraid she must be of the dungeon to be so compliant. And she’d never even seen the dungeon.She probably imagined it as a far worse place than it was. In her mind, Clint had no doubt she saw damp stones with water dripping from some unknown source and algae growing through the cracks and crevices. There would be a dripping sound, a dank, putrid smell, a dirt or concrete floor, a chill that wouldn’t leave the air, and heavy chains.He’d not bothered to disabuse her of that notion. The scarier the dungeon was to her, the easier it would be to get her cooperation. In reality, the dungeon was none of those things. If what he’d been told by the servants who had gone to get her belongings
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