Marrying the Mob Prince
2-13

INDIE

My new life as Knox's toy started tonight.

Emotionally, I felt nothing. I wondered what was in store for me as he whisked me to his Japanese-inspired penthouse. Sex, no doubt, and lots of it. He'd made his desire for me very clear from day one, and I had weeks of his fantasies to fulfill. Smoky black tiles blanketed the hall. Soft-white walls. Unfinished cedar planks in the rooms. I took in everything, dazed by the details. Very Zen. Clean lines. A work of art more than a living space. Surprising.

I never expected Bryan Knox's house to be so peaceful. I pictured it while writing the profile, but I thought it'd be over-the-top, like The Spheres. Instead of grandeur, warmth touched every detail, from the honey-toned wood to the row of bonsai trees in the kitchen. It was beautiful, but it did little to ease the torment eating at my soul.

My gaze froze on Knox's lean form as he eased the bomber jacket off his thick shoulders. He hung our coats as though we'd had a normal date night.

"I'll get you keys tomorrow," he boomed in his cold baritone. "My assistant will drop them off with some clothes. I'll text her your measurements. What size are you?"

"Um-I'll write them all down."

He nodded and swept past me down the golden hallway. I scrambled to make sense of the conflicting imagery-the brutal man nestled in this oasis.

I never had the guts to pick up the phone and ask for a more exclusive interview. I knew better. My pants would be off before the door closed, but now I no longer had the luxury of choice.

Knox opened a sliding door, revealing a king-sized mattress beside a wall-to-wall window. The platform bed sat close to the floor. Neutral colors, like everything else in the house. My new bedroom.

Knox's commanding presence settled in front of me. He stood there like an imposing Greek statue. An eager darkness radiated from him.

"Take off your clothes."

A dart of panic shot into my heart.

"What for?"

"I'm not touching you again, Indie. You can rest easy." He took a confident step forward, closing the distance between us. "But I never got to check you for injuries."

His words echoed in my head, and then I lifted my hand to do his bidding. I reached my neck and hesitated, trembling. My brain wouldn't allow me to continue. "I can't move."

His mouth softened. "Do you want me to do it for you?"

Did I?

I couldn't make sense of the whirlwind inside me, only that my coping skills for murder were nonexistent. I needed his cold-blooded strength. His touch was the cure to this unbridled terror. He tethered me to solid ground. I managed a stiff nod.

Gently, he brushed my hair from my shoulders. Then he traced the neckline of my dress, clasping the zipper. An electric charge pulsed through me as he tugged. My limbs numbed as he undressed me, thumbs digging under my bra. His hands followed my curves, the loving strokes avoiding my intimate places. I fought the hypnosis of his touch. A tremor heated my thighs while he played with my panties. He eased the fabric down my backside until it slid down my legs. Then his hands rested on my hips, tingling my skin.

Frowning, he lifted my hands and held them an inch from his face. He checked under my nails. He turned over my palms and smoothed my wrists, and a shudder passed through me.

"Did he hit you?"

I shook my head, shaking. "He yanked my hair and slammed me into the couch."

His fingers skimmed my head, his tiger-slanted gaze conveying the rage within him. Then he massaged my scalp.

"Does that hurt?"

"No. It feels good."

My breathing hitched with his gentle movements. After a relaxing few minutes, he untangled from my hair.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Knox nodded in grim satisfaction and disappeared into his walk-in closet. He returned with a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, offering them to me. I pulled them on my much slimmer body.

"Won't your assistant wonder why a reporter is living in your apartment?"

He loosened the strap of his belt and dragged it out of the loops. "Unlike someone else I know, she'd never pry into my personal life."

"Do you have any family?"

"No."

"Really? Doesn't your mom live in an assisted living facility?"

He placed the belt on his nightstand, the sharp sound jabbing my ears. "Did Rita spill about that, too?"

I shrugged, declining to confirm or deny his suspicions about Knox's former teacher, Margarita Rojas. She was a sweet seventy-year-old who lived with her husband in a condo owned by Knox. Perhaps she was his only real family. Knox went still, as though listening hard.

"What did she tell you about me?"

"Not much. Just a few details about how smart you were-how she recommended you for a gifted program. She told me you don't visit anymore." I played with my sleeve as I recalled that heartwarming conversation. "She's very loyal to you." He resumed undressing in brusque movements. "She better be."

"Especially since you're paying all her bills."

"Why are so interested in my background?"

"It's what I do, Knox. I'm curious by nature."

"That makes two of us." He pulled on sweatpants, peering at me curiously under a wave of brown hair. "What was it like to kill someone?"

The heaviness in his tone hit me like a slap. "Why would you ask me that?"

"The same reason you grilled me about my childhood. Morbid curiosity."

I closed my eyes, assaulted by distressing images. "I didn't know what I'd done until he was on the floor, bleeding. I tried to save him. I did. But there was nothing I could do. And after he...stopped breathing and turned blue, I started to panic. I threw a comforter over his face. I had to cover it up and save myself." I opened my eyes, meeting his through a haze of tears. "And now I feel...unhinged and broken."

"You have nothing to feel ashamed about."

Delicate lines wrinkled near his hooded gaze as his attention centered on my mouth. He had the most stunning eyes I'd ever seen, the color stolen from the Mediterranean Sea.

"Knox, I'm sorry for bringing you into my mess."

I palmed his chest. The movement made his eyes flicker to my hand before dragging to my face.

"I'm not. I just wish you'd said yes to me months ago."

My throat tightened. "I didn't for a reason."

"Indie, If you'd given me a chance when I'd asked for one, you wouldn't have been forced to kill that man. You wouldn't carry the pain you're feeling from taking a life. You wouldn't have had to beg me to save you. You wouldn't be fighting not to cry right now."

"He broke in and attacked me," I whispered, hurled back into the horror. "Who does that?"

"A spineless coward."

My head bowed as a tear trickled down my cheek. I imagined myself years in the future, still hiding this hideous secret.

"Knox, do you think I'm awful?"

"I thought you couldn't care less about my opinion." His wintry tone bit my cheeks, and I flushed.

"You're a survivor," he growled, his eyes widening as he tracked my tears. "You did what was necessary. You fought him and won. That's what we do when we're cornered."

Why did it sound like he was talking about himself?

I wiped my face, and Knox grimaced.

"You're still upset."

"Of course I am! I just went through something traumatic. You're an accomplice to murder. I don't understand how you're not panicking." "Enough."

Knox gripped my shoulder and kneaded it, shattering the tough shell I'd built around myself. The hands on my hips squeezed.

"You'll heal from this. I'll help you." He stroked me lower, his gentleness melting the tension in my body. "I'll keep you distracted." "How can I relax when a man broke into my home?"

"Because I will not let anything happen to you," he murmured into my hair. "I plan to hunt down and kill the men responsible."

"I don't need you to do that."

"I want to, Indie."

My heart lurched madly.

Dazed, my palms slid over his chest. I turned to him and kissed his open mouth. It was like a thunderbolt. His exhale heated me as I dragged my tongue across his unyielding mouth.

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The kiss stiffened him in all the wrong ways. His fingers tangled in my hair, clutching a handful in his massive fist. He wrenched me back as his hooded eyes glared at me with indignant authority and unrepentant lust. I'd made a mistake...but I had no idea what I'd done wrong.

"You will not do that again." Knox's icy command doused the heat building in my core.

I frowned. "Do what?"

"Your mouth is for my cock. Nothing else."

What was he talking about?

I swallowed hard. "You...don't want to kiss me?"

"No."

I flinched, shame heating my cheeks. "But-"

"I don't kiss. I don't make love." Knox's thumb toyed with my lip, sending a jolt of pure excitement through me. "I fuck. I take. I destroy. Do you understand?" More than he realized.

Sex was dominating and intense. But a kiss? A kiss revealed so much more. It was every intimacy he denied himself, a confessed touch of his deepest, darkest fear. "Do you not think you're worthy of a kiss?" I whispered.

"Why waste a good of pair lips on a kiss when you can show me your gratitude in better ways?" His grip tightened in my hair. "More pleasurable ways?"

"A kiss can be very enjoyable."

"I wouldn't know."

"Only because you haven't tried."

Knox smirked. "You seem to think this is some fairy tale, Indie. That I'm your hero, and that kissing me will make the nightmare will go away. I'm not Prince Charming. And the world isn't a fairy tale. It's a brutal, violent, unforgiving hellhole, and the only way you can escape is with your legs spread and eyes closed. No kissing. Just fucking. Just submission."

"And yet you won't submit to a kiss."

"I won't humiliate myself like that, but the more I degrade you, the wetter you get. So what is it, Indie? Tell me. Why are you so eager to shame yourself on my tongue? Will you come even harder if I kiss your pussy instead?"

I shoved him off me, because he was right.

"Get into bed," he ordered, glaring at me until I'd slipped under the covers. Then he went to the door and flipped the switch, drowning me in darkness. "Go to sleep."

Instead of joining me, he left the room.

Disgust pitted my stomach as I yanked off the sheets. I slid my legs over the bed, glowering. I was indebted to him, but I'd never fuck him willingly. Even if we shared a twisted bond from this trauma.

Everyone in Knox's life was a prop for his ego. They either paid him tribute or suffered his wrath. I'd stupidly convinced myself there was more to him, that the man called Tyrant may have been ruthless with his businesses, but was not evil. I'd been so naive, but I understood him now.

He did not love people. He ruled them.