The Mafia's Pet

Chapter 23

Vanessa

A low growl emanates from his chest as Diego's jaw tightens in restrained frustration, his piercing gaze intensifying. "Enough! Time to put that filthy mouth of yours to better use," he declares, his voice low and commanding.

He utters something in Spanish to Abuela, who remains in the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returns, carrying what appears to be a dog bowl filled with steak bites, mashed potatoes, and corn. Diego takes a seat, and she places the bowl beside his chair on the floor. Her expression remains stoic as she responds in their native language before quietly exiting the room.

"Eat your dinner, Mascota," he orders harshly, not sparing a glance in my direction as he begins digging into his own plate.

A wave of fear washes over me as I realize he's not dismissing his men. This is another punishment, done in front of others, meant to degrade and humiliate me. I glance around, searching for a sympathetic gaze among the men, but their eyes are averted, unwilling to meet mine.

No.

This isn't happening.

I won't let it!

I stand my ground, lifting my head defiantly. "I-I'm not hungry," I manage to say, my throat suddenly dry. I mean, it's not like I'm lying. Hunger is the last thing on my mind when I know what he's demanding of me.

He hums, a low, eerie sound that reverberates through the room. "You will eat and then you will thank me for correcting your behavior like a good girl," he says with calm menace.

Bile taunts my throat, the metallic taste of fear lingering on my tongue. Every bone in my body aches with defiance, but I swallow it down, resisting the urge to show weakness. It's actually a good thing I haven't really eaten today; otherwise, it would all come up right now.

"Actually, I would like to go to bed now." My eyes convey a desperate hope that he might show mercy tonight. I know I poked the bear, but now I want it to go back to sleep...this was a mistake!

He cuts me off with a cold stare, his eyes darkening in warning. "I see that you must never want to be allowed outside the estate again."

My eyes widen as dread washes over me.

No, he can't do that!

"P-Please don't," I plead. Although he's kept me on lockdown for the last three days, I won't survive knowing there's no possibility that I'll be let out again.

His expression softens slightly. "Then you'll do as I say."

I blow out a breath, getting down on my hands and knees. My nails are dug so deeply into my fists, I can smell the blood from the wounds.

"Yes Sir," I grit out. The words are filled with pure disgust and revulsion that I make no effort to hide, and his wicked amusement only grows. The air thickens with an unspoken power struggle, each word a battle in a war I never signed up for.

I huff, my gaze fixed on the food in front of me. It actually looks delicious... if it weren't in a dog bowl. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reluctantly reach for a piece of steak. Diego immediately tsks, "No hands."

Seriously?!

I swallow the words that will surely only make my punishment worse and lean down to the bowl, taking a piece of meat between my teeth. I force myself to chew, each bite a bitter acknowledgment of my submission. Swallowing it down, I proceed to eat like a creature stripped of its humanity. I try not to make a mess, but it's impossible considering how small the bowl is and that I'm not allowed to use my hands.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!!!!

Instead of that innocent old lady, why didn't they just kill him instead? Maybe I would've been able to escape from the Russians on my own.

Okay, I take that back. If they managed to kill him, I would be God knows where right now with likely less freedom than I have now. I should be grateful that he saved my life, but also, I would have never been in that dangerous situation in the first place if it weren't for him. The twisted dance of resentment and gratitude wages war inside me as I continue to eat.

Diego seamlessly falls into conversation with his men, laughter and the cadence of Spanish creating a barrier between us. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he's forgotten my presence, my existence reduced to mere background noise in his chaotic world. Then, abruptly, his hand descends to stroke my hair, the curls framing my shoulders. "Such a good girl," he purrs, his voice, with its stupidly sexy accent, sending a flutter of butterflies soaring in my belly.

Embarrassment and arousal collide, creating a potent concoction that courses through my veins. How can he humiliate and praise me in the same breath? And like an idiot, I find myself craving it once again, the unsettling allure of his dominance mirroring the unexplainable pull he has over me-just like when he walked me around the club.

I eat as much as my limited appetite allows, the food a struggle to keep down. Once finished, I sit up on my heels. "I'm done, Sir," I announce through clenched teeth.

Diego smirks down at me, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He's a predator reveling in his prey's submission. "Good. I'm glad you're eating again. I've heard you've been skipping out on your meals."

That fucking snitch!

I want to shoot a glare at Danny, but Diego seems to disapprove when I look at other men when he's in this "mode". He's definitely going to hear from me later, though. Could he crawl any further up his boss's ass?

"What do you say to me?" Diego demands, cocking a dark eyebrow.

Recalling his earlier words, I roll my eyes, grinding my teeth so hard I'm surprised my molars don't break. "Thank you for punishing me to correct my behavior, Sir."

He responds with the smuggest look on his face, grabbing my arm and yanking me up from the floor onto his lap. "Good girl. You may sit here until I'm ready for us to go to bed."

Asshole, I was already in bed before you showed up and ruined my night.

I bite my tongue once more, suppressing the retort that begs to be unleashed, and obey. Who knows what other sick punishments he has in mind for me? The unsettling image of licking his dirty shoes or something equally degrading flashes in my mind, and a shiver runs down my spine.

I sit on his lap with my arms folded, glaring in no particular direction. I don't know how much time passes, but I start to feel my eyelids grow heavy. With no other choice, I reluctantly lay back against his chest. He wraps one arm around my waist to keep me steady, and I immediately hate how it makes me feel. My body surrenders to his embrace like melting chocolate against my will. As I relax, I involuntarily breathe in his rich, masculine scent.

I hate this man so much, yet this is the first time in days that I've felt safe enough to sleep. The chatter of the men serves as the perfect background noise, a comforting distraction that helps me succumb to the darkness.

I wake up feeling strong arms around me, carrying me bridle style up the stairs. He gently lays me on the bed, pulling the blanket around my body before retreating to his side.

"Siempre te mantendré a salvo (I'll keep you safe always)," I hear him whisper. I don't understand a word, but the tone brings an unexpected sense of security as I drift back into the comforting embrace of sleep.