Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 35 Put Down The Gun

Chapter 35: 35 Put Down The Gun

Lara POV

Emmanuel stilled.

He looked down the barrel of the gun with mild curiosity, then slowly lifted his dark gaze back to my face. The city hummed faintly far below us, but inside the penthouse bedroom, the silence was deafening.

"What do you think you’re going to do with that?"

I bit my lip hard.

The gun was heavier than I expected, cold steel biting into my palms. The hard edge of the trigger pressed against my forefinger, sending a reckless rush of power through my veins despite the fact that I was barefoot, drowning in his oversized shirt, and completely outmatched.

My hands shook. I quickly wrapped my other hand around the grip, trying to steady it.

I took a step forward, clutching the gun tight, like it was my only lifeline. The silk sheet I’d abandoned earlier lay in a crumpled heap on the floor near my feet, I almost stumbled over it.

I kicked it aside and looked up again quickly.

Emmanuel didn’t retreat. Instead, he spread his arms slightly in open invitation, the picture of infuriating arrogance.

"Do you want to kill me, Lara?" he asked mildly, tapping two fingers against the left side of his chest. "Go on. Right here."

Why did nothing ever rattle this man?

"Are you going to tell me this gun isn’t loaded?" My voice wavered slightly, doubt creeping in.

"Oh, it’s loaded," Emmanuel replied evenly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I see no point in leaving empty threats lying around."

My mouth went bone-dry. I licked my lips quickly. He tracked the small movement with predatory focus, his posture still impossibly relaxed.

A man like him was probably used to being at gunpoint. He probably fought off three batches of armed assassins every day before breakfast — a small voice in my head said.

I told the voice to shut up.

I took another step forward, my bare toes curling against the hardwood floor.

"You’re going to let me go," I demanded, putting a hard edge into my voice.

"Am I?" His voice took on an amused, condescending tone.

Emmanuel took a step forward, too.

"Don’t come any closer!" I shouted, aiming the gun at his face.

He stopped.

My chest rose and fell quickly, my breath coming in sharp pants.

I hadn’t at all expected that I would find a loaded gun within reach. I was winging this entire escape attempt, heart hammering so hard I felt dizzy. But this was the best chance I was ever going to get, wasn’t it?

I thought quickly.

"Open the elevator for me," I ordered. "And call a car."

Emmanuel let out a soft, low chuckle that sent unwelcome shivers down my spine. He shook his head slowly, almost pityingly.

"No, I don’t think so."

"I’ll shoot you!" I cried out.

"Will you?" he drawled. "You don’t have the faintest idea what you are doing, little fox."

"Don’t call me that," I scowled. "You don’t get to give me nicknames."

"It suits you, don’t you think?" Emmanuel tilted his head, one corner of his mouth lifting in a lopsided smile. "You are such a wild little thing. When I have you by the scuff of your neck, you’ll show me your belly, promise to be good for me. But the moment you get an opportunity, out come the claws."

"I only said those things because I didn’t know what you would do to me otherwise," I muttered. "I never would have taken your money if I knew who you were."

Emmanuel shook his head in disappointment.

"And you are still — still lying to yourself."

He stepped forward again.

"Stop!"

I jumped so hard I nearly squeezed the trigger by accident. In a panic, I jerked the barrel upward, pointing it safely away from him.

"You need to disengage the safety before you try to shoot," Emmanuel said dryly.

I bit my lip, my lashes fluttering wildly, pulse thudding so hard I could hear blood rushing in my ears.

I was fighting a losing battle.

I knew it. I knew it.

I just didn’t want to face it.

I saw a chance to get out and grabbed it with both hands, never mind how. Because deep inside I knew, if I let this continue, if I stopped fighting him with everything I had, I was in grave danger.

Not just to my body, but to my mind. My principles.

Everything I believed about myself.

This man would irrevocably change me—

reshape me into something that craved him—

and when he finally grew bored, he would discard me like yesterday’s trash.

"I must admit, I have taken the wrong approach with you," said Emmanuel. "Your denial— your little tirades— they amused me. So I let it slide."

I kept the gun trained on him, but I turned my head aside.

I couldn’t look at him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves with fastidious precision.

"I will tell you what will happen now," he said. "You will put down the gun and get on your knees—"

I looked back at him sharply, clenching my jaw.

"—and maybe I will be lenient with my punishment. If you make me take it from you— then believe me, you will learn a lesson about why you should not play with dangerous toys."

Put the gun down...?

I clutched it tighter, until my knuckles turned white.

Emmanuel Sagres watched me with calm certainty. The certainty of a man who knew that things were always going to go his way, no matter what happened.

Maybe he had put this gun within my reach, knowing that I would find it. Just to see what I would do. Play his sick little game.

He was so sure that I could be of no threat to him.

It made me so furious.

Looking him dead in the eye, I thumbed the safety off.

"Lara—" his expression turned exasperated.

I pulled the trigger.

I ran.