Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 15 Show Me What I Bought

Chapter 15: 15 Show Me What I Bought

Lara POV

Emmanuel Sagres glanced at his computer screen and then back to me, with a note of critical assessment in his cold blue eyes.

What, he didn’t like this outfit that his staff picked for me?

Or he just wasn’t impressed with me?

I crossed my arms over the lace bra.

"Your blood tests came back clean. Good. So we can get rid of the condoms immediately."

Oh, God. He was reviewing my medical information.

I glanced at the screen, but it was dark from this angle.

"You have mild malnutrition," he continued without waiting for response, as if he didn’t particularly require input from me. "Picky eater?"

Picky? No, poverty will do that to you. When I opened my mouth to protest, Emmanuel went on again, his eyes flicking down the screen.

"I will have my chef prepare you balanced nutrition meals. You will eat what you are given. No unhealthy snacks," he said.

"No alcohol, no smoking, no drugs."

He gave me a hard look.

My mouth fell open in disbelief. Was that what they had been searching my bag for?

"I don’t do any of those anyway!" I said.

Emmanuel made an expression that said he did not believe me.

The audacity of it! The man who profited off all those bad habits now telling me to lead a healthy lifestyle.

"All the better," he said.

I gritted my teeth, frustration bubbling and simmering under the surface of my skin.

"Well?" he prompted when I didn’t speak.

"I can hardly refuse, can I?" I snapped.

The silence stretched just long enough for fear to sizzle up my spine.

He turned away from the computer screen to face me fully, steepling his fingers on the top of the desk.

"I do not like to repeat myself, but — let me try again. What is your problem with me?"

I bit the inside of my cheek until I could taste blood.

I wished, I wished I was brave enough to scream at him what I actually thought of him.

Tell him he was a monster who ruined people’s lives for blood money and dirty profit. All the things that I had thought about him in the dead of night when I lay awake staring at the ceiling.

But all the bravado and fantasies about heroically ridding the world of Emmanuel Sagres fizzled away when he was right here in front of me, power radiating off him.

Much as I loathed him, I was afraid to offend him. That would surely be a one way ticket to get my cold, dead body dumped into the canal.

"You’d have an attitude too after the day I had. Your people treated me like a piece of meat," I complained at last.

"All necessary procedures," he said lightly. "I have very high standards for what belongs to me."

I could not hold back a scoff.

"If that were true, you wouldn’t have picked me."

"Don’t sell yourself short," Emmanuel said evenly. "I have experienced your quality...hm, Emerald?"

I flushed. His eyes tracked the pink color spreading over my cheeks and down my chest.

"I know you can be good for me. Do you want to be?"

No, I screamed internally.

"Yes," I said stiffly.

He spread his legs and tapped two fingers against his thigh.

"Kneel for me," he ordered. "Right here."

I stepped slowly around the desk in the stiletto heels. Holding Emmanuel’s gaze, I folded to my knees in the spread V of his legs. Heat poured off him in waves—expensive wool, warm skin, the faint scent of his cologne. His trousers were perfectly creased, the line razor-straight all the way down to his polished shoes.

A cold hand lifted my chin. A thumb stroked over my bottom lip and then pressed into my mouth.

I held back the urge to bite down, until my jaw ached with the effort. Saliva gathered under his thumb as he rubbed it deliberately against my tongue, like he was testing how far he could push before I broke.

He wouldn’t break me. That I had promised to myself.

I kept my eyes on his—those icy, emotionless blue eyes—refusing to look away. Taking in the monster that had destroyed my family.

He looked back for a long moment.

Until he let out a laugh.

"You do have lovely eyes."

From anyone else, that might be a generic compliment. From Emmanuel Sagres, it sounded as though he might prefer to admire them by gorging my eyes out and putting them in a display frame.

"Do you know why?" he asked.

He cupped a hand over my breast without hesitation, like he had every right to me. He rolled the soft mound in his palm, then pinched the nipple through the thin fabric of the bra. The thin fabric did nothing to dull the sharp spark of sensation.

My breath hitched.

"Why?" I said, as flatly as I could.

"There is such fire in them," said Emmanuel with a note of fascination, tilting his head as he looked down at me. "Such passion. So...vicious. A wild little thing."

He kept touching me while he spoke. His hands squeezed gently, then tugged the lace cup down so he could flick his bare thumb over the stiff peak. The air conditioning was still blasting cold, but my skin was starting to burn. Heat was pooling low in my belly, between my thighs, in places it had no business being. Not with him. Not with the man who had taken everything from me.

"I thought. That you like obedient toys," I said, my voice beginning to thicken with the tell-tale signs of arousal.

After three years at The Red Door, I should be able to say that I have so much experience in sex that nothing he could do would bother me. And yet–

"I do," Emmanuel agreed pleasantly. "And you will be an obedient toy for me."

"What if I’m not?"

The words left me before I could think better of it.

Emmanuel smiled a little wider.

"Then I will help you understand your place."

His hand shot out, lightning-fast, and fisted in my hair. The sharp yank sent white-hot pain lancing across my scalp. My head snapped back, spine arching involuntarily as a startled yelp tore from my throat. The position forced my chest forward, my breasts straining against the half-pulled-down lace.

My pussy throbbed at the rough, dominating touch.

"Who am I?" he asked, his tone still light and pleasant.

"Emmanuel Sagres," I all but spat out.

His grip tightened, twisting just enough to make my eyes water. He shook his head with mild disapproval, as though I was a student called on in class who had given the wrong answer, rather than on my knees under his desk.

"Who am I to you?" He asked again.

My chest heaved. I wet my lips, eyes narrowing as I glared into cold blue eyes.

Monster.

Killer.

Overlord of hell on earth.

"My employer," I answered.

"Your owner," Emmanuel corrected, drawing out the word in a slow drawl. "Your master. I own you, Lara, and you had better get used to it soon, because I am not a particularly patient man."

My temper flared.

"You don’t own me," I spat out.

"That was the deal. Or do you still think you can cheat me out of what I have paid for?"

I shook my head bitterly.

"You can have my body, but you will never own me."

"Is that a challenge, Lara?" Emmanuel breathed, his breath hot on my face. "Do you want to test me, hm?"

One brutal tug and I was yanked upright by my hair, then slammed down onto the desk on my back. The cold, polished wood knocked the air from my lungs. I landed hard, the impact jarring through my spine. I pushed up onto my elbows on instinct, breath coming in short, panicked pants I couldn’t seem to control.

My breasts were spilling out of the translucent cups of the tantalizing lingerie, slick already soaking my treacherous core. I had never felt so exposed than with the mafia king’s greedy gaze caressing every inch of my bare skin.

Emmanuel loomed over me, his powerful body blocking out the light, casting his face in shadow so that only his eyes seemed to glow like the devil. At last I could see the carnal hunger in his gaze, the predator he kept contained behind the cold, civilized facade.

"Stay down," he ordered, calm as ever.

I froze, lying on my back on the wide mahogany desk.

"Spread your legs for me," said Emmanuel, his voice turning rough. "Let me see what I bought."