Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 26 A Martyr in My Bed

Chapter 26: 26 A Martyr in My Bed

Lara POV

For a moment, I thought he might hit me.

The fury etched across Emmanuel’s face made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My breath caught in my throat, trapped there as every muscle in my body locked tight.

The air in the lavish penthouse felt suddenly thinner, charged with violence.

But — after a few moments, the fury turned into something quieter, but no less dangerous. Like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

"I see how it is," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "This little story that you tell yourself. You and your sister are innocent little flowers. Your mommy and daddy are poor souls kept down by wretched fate. And I—"

His arms snaked around my waist with shocking speed, yanking me flush against his hard body. Heat radiated from him, seeping through the thin fabric of my babydoll. I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my chest.

"I am the cold, cruel, heartless villain, the root of all evil. Is that right?"

I struggled against his iron grip, palms pushing at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

It all sounded so stupid and juvenile when he put it in that mocking tone.

"It’s not a story. It’s my life," I snapped.

"Mmm, and so you hate me. You want nothing to do with me," he drawled.

He cupped my face with both hands, leaning in close. His thumb brushed slowly across my bottom lip, sending unwanted sparks racing across my skin.

"You don’t want my dirty money...you don’t want my blood-stained hands on you...you certainly don’t want the pleasure I can give you. Right?"

He pressed his fingers against the thudding pulse at my neck, looking into my eyes knowingly.

"Yes," I said firmly, the word scraping out of my dry throat.

A smile spread across Emmanuel’s face. Like I had proven him right about something.

"Do you always lie to yourself this much?" he murmured, voice velvet-wrapped poison. "Stupid... emotional... delusional girl."

I scowled and shoved him back, hard.

This time, he let me go, stepping back with a fluid grace that only made me feel smaller.

"You’re the delusional one," I spat defiantly.

Emmanuel shook his head.

"Let me offer you a choice, then."

"What choice?"

"You can leave."

The words landed lightly, like mist that I couldn’t grasp. My heart lifted to my throat.

"Really?" I said hesitantly, my gaze darting around the penthouse like an escape route might have appeared.

"I want my money back."

"That—" my heart sank again. "You know I don’t have it anymore."

"That is easy enough. Ask your sister to return it."

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"Or I could make it easier for you. I can send my men to collect."

Debt collectors?! No, hell no.

"That’s not necessary," I said. "You can keep me."

Emmanuel made a sound of disgust.

"Pathetic."

"Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?!" My temper flared again. "Oh, no, you’re not threatening me, Mr Sagres. I’m here of my own free choice! Was that the point?"

"The point," Emmanuel said, "is that you are choosing to be a martyr for your greedy little family. And somehow, I get all the blame."

I pressed my lips together.

Wasn’t he to blame?

"You could just let me go," I said, without much hope.

Emmanuel let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh that echoed off the high ceilings.

"And give you half a million dollars for free? Am I a villain or a charity, Lara? You really ought to make up your mind."

"Or I could do something else for you to pay you back," I suggested. "Work for you."

The mocking laugh slid off Emmanuel’s face. His lips thinned.

"You would rather do something else?"

Was he — did that offend him?

I looked him up and down curiously, noting the stiffness in his posture.

After all the ways that he had insulted me tonight, all the accusations I had screamed at him that only seemed to be absorbed into his stone facade — that was what bothered him?

"Yes," I said with feeling. "I would rather keep being a whore than be yours."

Emmanuel turned away sharply.

"Get out."

The sudden sense of danger filled the space.

I backed away until I reached the elevator lobby, and didn’t even draw a breath until the elevator doors closed around me.

Only then did I collapse onto the cold marble floor of the elevator car, hugging my knees. Violent shivers wracked my body as the adrenaline crashed through me. I rubbed my face with trembling hands, the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down until I could barely breathe.

Emmanuel POV

The knife left my hand with a sharp whistle.

Thud.

Another followed instantly.

Thud. Thud.

All three blades sank deep into the training dummy twenty feet away—two through the eyes, one straight through the heart. Perfect. Lethal. Controlled.

I crossed the dimly lit training room, my footsteps echoing against the reinforced concrete floor. The air smelled of sweat, steel, and faint ozone from the overhead lights. Aggression still boiled under my skin, hot and restless, refusing to dissipate.

The silence annoyed me. The lifeless shape of the dummy annoyed me. The way the blades had sunk so easily into its padded torso felt too simple, too unsatisfying.

No.

Lara Brinson annoyed me.

She infuriated me.

Dover had been right. The girl was too messy. Too chaotic. More trouble than she could possibly be worth.

I reached the dummy and yanked the blades free one by one with sharp, vicious pulls. The fabric tore satisfyingly. For good measure, I sliced the dummy’s head clean off in one brutal arc. It tumbled to the floor with a dull thud. I wiped the blades clean on my sleeve before tucking them away.

In the quiet that followed, her face kept flashing through my mind—those wide green eyes filled with defiance, the tremble in her voice when she spat her accusations, the way she had looked at me like I was the devil incarnate while standing there in nothing but sheer lingerie and my jacket.

I had finally seen what lay beneath that soft, sweet, obedient veneer she tried so hard to maintain. All those unspoken insults, all that simmering hatred flickering behind every forced smile and polite "sir."

Liar, liar.

She lied to me almost as much as she lied to herself.

I pulled out my phone, fingers moving with precise irritation.

Get me eyes on the Brinson family, I sent to Dover. I want a detailed surveillance report.

How are they enjoying the spoils of labor that I paid for? Let me see.

The mother was filled with endless greed, and the sister was used to other people solving her problems for her. And the father, as I recalled, was a predictable, brutish type who only knew how to take out his frustration on those weaker than him.

Worthless weaklings, the dregs of society that I had seen so many times before.

I was right. I knew I was right. I was always right.

Lara just refused to see it.

How could anyone be so foolishly, pathetically self-sacrificing?

I stilled, phone still in hand, staring at the decapitated dummy.

A low, weary laugh escaped me—directed entirely at myself.

The strangest part was how deeply it had gotten under my skin.

It shouldn’t matter.

The petty emotions and self-righteous delusions of one foolish woman should be far beneath my notice. And yet I found myself arguing. Conceding. Trying to prove a point.

I have no need to justify myself to anyone.

She belongs to me until I decide otherwise.

But the thought of taking her to bed now left a sour taste in my mouth. Fucking her while she lay there like a martyr, enduring me as if my touch were some terrible punishment... No. That would be a hollow victory.

As if my attention is a curse to her.

She could deny it all she wanted, but I had seen the truth in her body—her pulse racing under my fingers, her pupils dilating, the way she grew wet and sensitive at the slightest brush of my hands. She was made for me.

And yet she insisted on being such a goddamn liar.

What was I to do with her?

A cold smile curved my lips as the answer crystallized.

Fine.

If she loved the idea of being a whore so much, then let her be one. Let her prove how well she could stomach it.

I picked up the phone and called Janine at Elysium.

"Mr Sagres?"

"I have a new girl for you."