Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 37 Battle of Wills

Chapter 37: 37 Battle of Wills

Lara POV

I was soaking wet. His finger slid straight inside my pussy without resistance.

"Are you enjoying your punishment so much, little fox?"

I groaned.

He thrust one long finger slowly in and out of me.

I buried my face in the sheets with the determination of an ostrich with its head in the sand.

"As pleasant as this is, I don’t have all day," he said in a low, smooth voice. "Are you ready to apologize?"

I shook my head once.

"In that case...I will have to leave you to think about it."

Something cold, smooth, much thicker than a finger was pressed into my pussy with a wet sound.

Emmanuel moved me off his lap and got to his feet.

I turned my head, my eyes widening.

What did he mean, he was going to leave me to think about it?

Like this?

Emmanuel brushed the wrinkles from his tailored pants. He picked up something from the box — a remote — and casually slipped it into his pocket.

I spat out the gag.

"Where are you going?"

Emmanuel walked away, putting his clothes back to order as he went.

"To work," he said, buckling up a new belt with a sharp click. "I have other things to do than breaking in unruly little sluts."

I flushed in anger.

"You can’t leave me like this!"

"You are still, somehow, under the impression that you can tell me what to do."

When he reached the doorway, he turned back thoughtfully.

"Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that the staff know to take good care of you. I don’t like to damage my belongings."

He disappeared into the hallway without waiting for my response.

My eyes widened in horror.

"Wait! Emmanuel— sir! Come back!"

All I got was the distant sound of the elevator door opening.

And then—

The toy he put inside me came alive with a low, gentle buzz of vibration.

Oh my God. This man is pure evil.

My body burned with need, the ropes digging into my flesh a constant reminder of his control. I dropped my cheek to the sheets and groaned loudly in the empty bedroom.

This escape attempt was going to be costly.

-----

Emmanuel POV

The elevator stopped on the 88th floor. Ricci hurried to my side as soon as I appeared, straightening his butler uniform.

"There’s been some damage in my bedroom," I told Ricci.

"No problem, Boss, I’ll send the repairmen," Ricci said at once, nodding his head. "It will be back to order before you’re back in the evening."

"Good." I inclined my head. "And besides — I left Lara tied up in my bedroom. Make sure she’s fed and hydrated."

Ricci gave a long, slow, blink.

"Got it," he answered.

Having delivered my orders, I turned away and took the elevator down. A low heat still simmered under my skin, my cock half-hard in my pants, but I resolutely ignored it.

Control was everything.

And my little fox was desperately in need of a demonstration of discipline.

What a morning it had been.

Positively thrilling.

I found a smile lifting my lips as I stepped into my office. The men I passed in the hallway stopped to murmur respectful greetings, glancing at each other in silent curiosity as they noticed my unusually cheerful mood.

The good mood continued until Janine came into my office with an anxious expression.

"What’s the matter?"

"Marcus Turdin is kicking up a fuss about his son, Drake," she said. "Seems like his eye sight is completely gone despite the best of medical care, and the boy is in a violent rage."

I shrugged.

Drake Turdin should have known better than to throw his weight around on my turf.

"And?"

"He said that he doesn’t want money for compensation." Janine hesitated.

"Spit it out."

"He said, I quote, he wants ’the eyes of the damned whore Sagres threw a fit over’, to settle his rage."

Lara’s eyes?

He dared.

"He dares insult me," I said, ice dripping from every word. "Turdin’s ego has grown so big that he forgets who I am. This is a declaration of war."

Janine nodded, looking worried.

"If I cannot get Turdin’s support through cooperation, then it will have to be through force. Revoke their access to all of our businesses and routes immediately. Send Diego and Mikhail in, we need to discuss our strategy."

After a long session with my lieutenants agreeing how to take on and swallow Turdin’s operations in South Hartlow, I had a moment to myself.

I reached for the remote in my pocket and turned the vibrator up a notch.

----

Later in the day, Dover came in to see me.

"I have the information you asked for on the Brinson family," he said by way of greeting.

He slid an envelope across my desk.

"I went to check on them myself."

"What did you think?" I asked, as I picked up the envelope and pulled out the contents.

"Christina Brinson is a piece of work," Dover said. "But the little sister...well. I can see why your Lara is so protective of her."

I frowned.

A stack of photos fell out into my hand.

The first one must be Chloe Brinson.

The photo was taken from afar. An upstairs window lined with a box of flowers at the windowsill. A young girl with straight blonde hair held back with a hairband sat at the window in front of an easel, a paintbrush in her hand and an expression of intense concentration.

I could see the similarities between her and Lara; the same upturned nose and stubborn jaw.

She did not look like the bloodsucking leech I had imagined. But looks, as I knew well, could be deceiving.

"This is where they live?" I said, tapping the photo.

"They’ve moved up in the world — with the money your girl gave them, I suppose. Bloom Street, South Hartlow. It’s a respectable area without any mafia coverage."

South Hartlow. I remembered now that the first thing Lara had asked for was for her family to be allowed to leave, out of my sphere of influence.

Laughable. What did she imagine that I would do to her precious family?

"And what else have they been spending money on?" I asked, displeased.

"Nothing unreasonable, as far as I can tell."

My lips thinned.

Not quite terrible enough to match my initial impressions. Family not quite terrible enough were the most inconvenient of all, guaranteed to keep the weak in their emotional sinkhole.

My Lara ought to be better than this. With her talents, she ought to have a better position in the world than the one I had first found her in.

It was irritating that I could not prove Lara wrong.

It was even more irritating that I still wanted to prove Lara wrong.

I tossed the photos onto my desk.

"And the compensation that we paid for Sam Brinson? Where did that go?"

"Mostly gambling," Dover said.

My mouth twisted into a sneer.

"But the numbers don’t quite add up. She hasn’t lost enough in our casinos to cover the amount we paid and the lifestyle that they’ve been living. So either Mrs Brinson’s been gambling places that we don’t know about, or she’s spent it elsewhere."

I tapped my fingers against the top of my desk.

"Do you want me to look into it further?"

"Not now. Not worth our time," I decided. "But keep the Brinson family under surveillance."

If Lara thought that removing her family from the district of East Windlem was enough to shake off my influence, she was wrong. I had eyes and ears all over the Capital.

For most people, it made no difference to their lives. Not unless they chose to cross me, and then they would taste my retribution.