Ruthless Heir: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ruthless Dynasty Book 1)

The second my eyelids flutter open, a lifetime of dreams and nightmares are instantly burned away, forgotten forever.

But that’s not all I’ve forgotten.

At first, my addled mind is completely empty. Then, slowly, a gentle ache builds behind my forehead. It’s followed by a single, all-important question.

What the hell happened?

No answer appears before me. Still, I can feel that something is different. A massive change has occurred. The weight of the world has shifted, and it hovers directly above my body, threatening to come crashing down at any moment.

My first instinct is to move, to try and evade the invisible menace.

That’s a dumb decision.

Before I can move anything more than a finger, my entire skull erupts in agony.

The pain is enough to jerk me around and plunge my face directly into the pillow that props up my head.

It takes a moment before the suffering retreats enough for me to think straight. But when it does, I get the first hint of where I am.

A bed.

But who’s bed?

Another deep breath confirms that it’s not mine.

Still, the subtle scent wafting off the pillow is oddly familiar. It doesn’t help ease my painful confusion.

Where the hell am I?

A dozen or so deep breaths later, and I’ve finally gathered the strength to turn myself around again.

At first, the world is blurry. All I can make out are shades of white and grey. Slowly, though, it all comes back into focus.

Not that there’s anything to focus on.

This is a bedroom alright. But it has almost no defining features.

The sprawling space is essentially empty. White walls hold no artwork or photographs. Soft corners are vacant of furniture. Even the carpet is a fuzzy looking shade of light grey.

Strangely enough, the void has an almost comforting effect on my pounding head. There’s no overload of new information. No nooks or crannies or shadows to flinch away from.

Still, there are some lines that stand out from the monotony.

Along one of the walls, I recognize the outline of a door. It’s shut tightly. On an adjacent wall, two thinner shuttered doors indicate a closet. Just beside that, there is one last door. Unlike the others, it isn’t shut tight; through the open slit, I can just make out a white marble sink.

That must be the bathroom.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this place almost looked like some kind of futuristic, high-class hospital room. Still, I’m not ready to get comfortable just yet. I’ve been to hospitals before. The best that money can offer. None of them have looked anything like this.

As gently as possible, I try to remember what happened to me.

What am I doing here?

The question echoes around in my throbbing head as I mindlessly search the empty walls for answers.

But there’s nothing.

And suddenly, the reality of what that really means hits me.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

There is nothing.

Not even windows.

That’s when I feel the first strike of fear. It’s also when I first notice I’ve been dressed in a soft silk nightgown. Who’s nightgown is this?

What the fuck is going on?

Even if this place is easily twice the size of my bedroom back home, I’m instantly beset by claustrophobia.

And what I hear next only makes it all a thousand times worse.

The jarring sound of a door being unlocked.

Unlocked.

Fuck.

Immediately, my heart starts to pound against the inside of my chest. Panic washes over me.

Why the hell am I locked in here?

Have I been caught? Kidnapped like the congressman’s daughter?

None of those questions are answered as I rip my terrified gaze over to the opening door.

Because the man who steps inside is just as much a mystery as whatever the fuck has happened to me.

It’s Gabriel fucking Corso.

That’s not my real name.

The confession flashes through my throbbing skull like a strike of lightning as I watch him enter.

Was that from one of my dreams? Nightmares?

Or did he really say that?

“Finally.” It’s the first word out of his mouth. A taunting hello that’s so flippant, I almost short-circuit.

“Finally?” I hear myself croak in response.

“You’ve been out for almost two days straight, princess. That’s pretty dramatic, if you ask me.”

I don’t have the energy to snap back at him.

All I can do is shut my eyes and brave the throbbing storm swirling around just behind my skull.

I haven’t woken up. I’m still lost in a nightmare.

“What is this?” I manage to ask, even as every inch of me begs for relief.

Pinching my nose, I open my eyes again.

Gabriel has shut the bedroom door behind him. He’s leaning against the wall beside it. Like he’s not sure if he should get any closer. Not yet.

“This is a bedroom,” he states.

“No shit,” I rasp. “What the hell am I doing here?”

“Recovering.”

“Recovering from what? Where’s my family? What are you doing here?”

“Your family is working. I’m doing my job.”

“Your job is to waltz in here and tell me I’m being dramatic?”

“My job is to come in here and tell you the truth.”

“And what is the truth?” I ask, wanting to break down and just beg him to stop being so fucking smug.

Something is wrong. Something is seriously fucking wrong.

Gabriel shouldn’t have the gall to act like this around me. Especially if I just escaped some kind of serious danger. Mom would be here. Dad wouldn’t leave my side. Rian wouldn’t either. And they definitely wouldn’t leave me in the care of a brand-new body guard—especially after what I’ve already told Rian.

“The truth is this, princess: two days ago, your uncle Maksim ordered us to escort you to a new secure location. It didn’t go well. We were ambushed. Everyone died. Well, everyone except the two of us. I managed to save you. So, you’re welcome. You did get nicked by a bullet, though. It tore open a small wound on your shoulder. There was a lot of bleeding, but it was all for show. You probably would have survived even if I hadn’t dragged you out of there and helped stemmed the loss.”

“I… I was shot?”

“Barely,” Gabriel smirks. “And you weren’t the only one, so don’t feel special.”

Stepping forward, the dark wolf reveals a slight limp. Then, just to make sure I get the idea, he rolls up his pant leg and shows me the thick bandage wrapped around his upper knee.

“You were shot protecting me?”

Gabriel shrugs in response. “I might have been a bit dramatic about the whole thing too,” he chuckles. “It wasn’t a bullet that got me—at least, not an entire one. Just some shrapnel. Look, by the end of that battle, we were both a little delirious from blood loss… But you were the only one who passed out.”

Rolling his pant leg back down, Gabriel starts to walk towards the bed. My first instinct is to flinch away—even as bits and pieces of what he just told me resurface from the recesses of my mind.

He’s telling the truth. If only just a slice of it.

“What happened to everyone else?” I ask. Slowly, I begin to remember the chaos.

There was an explosion. Car crashes. Gunfire.

“You aren’t a very good listener, princess. I told you. We were the only survivors.”

Gabriel is right. He did already tell me that. But I barely processed it. Now, though, it hits me like a fucking mac truck.

“Rian,” I gulp, a desperate grief appearing deep in my gut.

“He’s fine.” Gabriel is surprisingly quick to assure me.

“You just said everyone died?”

“He wasn’t there.”

“He… he was in the car with me,” I hazily recall.

My skull throbs as I’m bombarded with flashbacks of being rushed into the back of that black Escalade.

Did anyone explain to me where we were going and why?

I can’t quite remember.

But I can see Rian sitting beside me.

“Well, it’s good to see you didn’t hit your head too hard before I swept you off that grimy alley floor and saved your life,” Gabriel grumbles, the smirk wiped from his face.

“Where’s Rian?”

“Working.”

“How did he escape if no one survived?”

“I guess I lied when I said everyone else died.”

“What else are you lying about?”

No matter how weak my voice is, that question seems to cut Gabriel somewhere sensitive. Limp or not, he lunges forward so quickly that the gust of his massive body nearly blows me off the bed.

Suddenly, he’s towering over me, hands pressed into the mattress, forearms bulging with a barely restrained fury.

“Is that something you really want to know, princess?”

“Yes.”

Despite the fear that has just crawled down my throat, I can’t help my stupid, stubborn nature. Especially not as I get a whiff of the dark wolf who’s supposed to be so terrifying.

Gabriel may be a killer, but he smells like soft rain and fresh earth.

It makes me less afraid of him.

But a whole lot more afraid of myself.

Because no matter how hard I try to hold his stunning gaze, my eyes keep dropping down to his blood red lips.

For some reason, I can practically taste them; I can almost feel the way his dark stubble would brush against my sensitive cheeks.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“The truth is too much for you right now,” Gabriel says, and when I force my gaze back up to those insane hazel-green eyes, I catch them rising too. Almost like he was sneaking a look at my lips.

“No. It isn’t,” I respond, each breath getting deeper as a disturbing reality starts to sink in.

Gabriel is up to something.

But what?

Am I his captive? Is he working with the kidnappers who killed the congressman’s daughter?

Or is it somehow even worse than that? He could be lying about Rian to protect me. I haven’t even asked about Dad or Uncle Maksim.

I could be the last one left.

“Don’t go all doe-eyed on me, princess,” Gabriel scoffs, pushing himself back from the bed. “It won’t work.”

“Work for what?” I snap, disgusted. The further back he retreats, the better. That way, I won’t get lost in those stupid, endless hazel-green eyes, or that strangely comforting scent.

“You have no idea what’s coming your way,” he warns, avoiding my question.

“Then tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because you work for me. And I can take it.”

That’s a lie and we both know it. No matter how tough I’ve tried to be in the past, I’ve always been protected from the darkest truths.

And now I’m starting to think it was for the best.

I don’t feel ready for any of this, whatever the truth is.

“No. You can’t,” Gabriel says, his gaze dropping against some heavy weight.

“Try me,” I challenge him.

For a tense moment, he hesitates to respond. But that hesitation doesn’t last long.

My stomach drops when the dark wolf turns his back on me. Instead of heading for the door, though, he stays put. Crossing his arms, he grabs the bottom of his shirt. Then, he pulls it off.

The sight steals my breath away.

Fucking hell.

The dark wolf’s back is a wall of perfectly built muscle, draped in a gothic mosaic of black tattoos. Somehow, he looks even more powerful now than when I saw him shirtless and bloody in the cellar back home.

“What do you see, princess?” he growls, his voice sharp and deep.

I don’t answer.

How could I?

A disturbing pressure has appeared in my core, and I’m too busy uncurling my toes to come up with a convincing lie.

This man could crush me.

“Nothing,” I manage to mumble.

“Answer me, and I will tell you what you need to know. What do you see?”

Fuck.

“I see…” Don’t say muscles. Don’t say muscles. “I see a man.”

“What about the man do you see?”

“… That he likes tattoos. That he’s covered in tattoos,” I stubbornly resist.

“And why do you think he’s covered in tattoos?”

“Because he wants to look cool,” I blurt out, instantly regretting it.

I feel like a stupid, immature teenager all over again, getting bogged down in gossip and rumors and excuses for why I don’t like the popular kid.

“No, princess,” Gabriel chuckles. His voice is so deep it seeps into my bones. “That’s not the reason.”

Tossing his shirt to the ground, the dark wolf turns around and moves towards the bed. There’s something about the look in his eyes that freezes me. And I can hardly even bear to breathe as he leans forward and takes my wrist.

His touch is burning hot, and I immediately try to jerk away. But that only tightens his grip.

“Let me go,” I croak, trying to pull away again.

This time, Gabriel doesn’t just tighten his grip. No. This time, he tugs me forward, then wraps my arm under his.

With all my strength, I crank my head to the side so I don’t faceplant into his broad, steaming chest.

“Open your hand,” Gabriel orders, his already deep voice dropping a register.

Behind his back, my fingers are curled tightly into a fist.

“No.”

I’m shaking like a fragile little leaf. This is bad. He doesn’t have to confess anything to me anymore. I know the truth. I’m alone here. I have to be.

No one would dare treat me this way if there was even a chance my fearsome father or cousin could do anything about it.

“Do as I say, princess, and I will give you what you want.”

“I want you to let me go,” I beg, even as the swirling pressure in my core deepens.

“Then that’s what you shall receive.”

My skull still pounds as I try to think up a way out of this. But part of me knows that even if I had all of my wits about me, there would be no escape.

Whatever’s happening, I’m not in control.

Gabriel is.

“Fine,” I mumble, a deep anguish unclenching my fingers.

When my hand is finally open, Gabriel presses my palm against his searing flesh.

Instantly, I feel the scars.

Angry and raised, they rise out from under his black tattoos like burning mountains.

It doesn’t take long for me to understand what Gabriel is getting at.

The tattoos, they’re not to look cool. Fuck no. They’re to cover these scars.

What has this man been through?

“You couldn’t see the scars, could you?” Gabriel asks, his voice deep, yet surprisingly quiet.

“No,” I weakly admit.

“Now you know they’re there,” he says. “Do you see what I mean? Before, you couldn’t see the truth, even though it was staring you right in the face. You couldn’t see it because you didn’t want to see it. But I’ve ripped back the veil for you princess. I’ve shown you the truth. It doesn’t feel very good, does it?”

“No. It doesn’t,” I softly admit.

How did he get these scars? My mind runs wild with the dark and dreadful possibilities.

“Feel that knot twisting in your gut?” Gabriel continues. “Remember that feeling when you ask me for the truth. Remember how much it hurts. Remember that you can’t handle it.”

His hot skin pricks the tip of my fingers as he forces me to feel the agony of his past. Suddenly, though, he drops my hand.

For a moment, there’s nothing forcing me to keep touching him. Yet my hand doesn’t move. Because the pinpricks of his scars slowly dissolve away, vanishing in place of a simmering heat.

I don’t realize how cold I truly am until the warmth of his body starts to wash up my fingers, down my wrist, over my arm, and into my core.

Biting the inside of my lip, I desperately try to burn away any sign of my arousal. But it’s no use.

It’s not the man, I tell myself. It’s the body. Who wouldn’t be attracted to this body?

Opening his mouth, so I catch the slightest glimpse of his thick wet tongue, Gabriel leans forward.

My racing heart freezes as he silently reaches towards my throat. I’m too stunned to move. Too confused with my body’s reaction to fight back.

But he doesn’t wrap his fingers around my neck.

Instead, his beefy forearm brushes up just beneath my jaw as he reaches for the strap of my nightgown.

Pinching the soft silk, he gently pulls it down my shoulder.

Not even the warmth of Gabriel’s body can disguise the gust of cold air that washes over my exposed skin in response.

“You’re a fast healer, princess. I’ll give you that,” Gabriel says.

Suddenly finding myself able to finally move again, I gaze down at my shoulder.

To my surprise, there’s a shiny new wound there.

It looks like it’s been slathered in some kind of cream—numbing, maybe? Because I can’t feel it at all. Hell, I can’t even feel the transparent bandage that’s been placed over top of it.

“You did that?” I ask, my hand dropping down Gabriel’s broad back an inch. “You treated my wound?”

“I didn’t want you to hurt anymore, princess.”

My hand drops further down his back as my body melts under his heat.

“I’m not hurt.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest,” with a deep breath, Gabriel leans back, and my hand falls completely off of him. “Sleep, princess. Rest. Recover. You’ll learn everything in due time. Now, do you have any other questions?”

He’s teasing me. The moment got too tender. Gabriel couldn’t have that.

But I’m nothing if not stubborn.

“Yes,” I whisper, dragging my gaze away from the treated wound I didn’t even know was there. “I have another question: stop calling me princess.”

This is getting too intimate, too dangerous. I need to remind Gabriel of what we are.

Enemies.

This whole encounter has only solidified it. Whatever’s happening, one thing is clear.

He’s toying with me.

Like a wolf playing with his food.

“That’s not a question,” Gabriel points out, pushing himself back off the bed, away from me.

“And nothing you just told me was the truth,” I respond, keeping my gaze drawn downwards. “You’re trying to distract me. Stop it. What is this, Gabriel? Am I your hostage? Is my family dead?” Slowly, I manage to lift my eyes from the mattress and onto him. It’s a long journey, filled with temptation and dread.

But it all ends when I meet those cosmic hazel-green eyes.

“What did I tell you about—’

“Tell me,” I interrupt. “I order you.”

My demand doesn’t go over well.

“No. You don’t get to order me around anymore,” Gabriel booms, his blood red lips somehow twisting into a half smirk, half snarl. “Now, it’s my turn to show you who’s boss.”

“I will never listen to you.”

“Wrong. And I’ll prove it to you right now. Stand up, princess. Stand up and take off that pretty little nightgown. Get naked for me. I order it.”

A shock of fear trembles down my throat as I stare up at those ruthless hazel-green eyes.

“Or what?” I gulp, my bravery undercut by terror.

The snarling half of Gabriel’s lips respond by twitching into a fully depraved, disturbingly sinful smirk.

“Or else I’ll punish you.”