Captured By A Sinner: Chapter 2

Viktor

Blyadʹ.

When I agreed to help Nikolas take down the Sicilians, I sure as fuck didn’t think I’d be kidnapping a girl. Whenever I watched the house prior to the attack, I never saw her come and go.

My loyalties lie with the Priesthood, a group of mafia heads created by Luca, who’s my best friend and the head of the Italian mafia, and today the Sicilians paid for constantly invading Liam and Nikolas’ territories.

It’s nothing more than business.

But I sure as fuck didn’t expect her. Little Rose.

I had to sedate her once we boarded the private jet to keep her from fighting.

As I carry her limp body into my house, I know I’m going to get a ton of shit from my family for taking her. It was either that or one of us killing her, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

Why?

She’s nothing to you.

The answer comes instantly like a slap upside the head.

It’s because she was so fucking scared. Her fear stirred something in my chest I’ve never felt before. Something I don’t want to think about.

My house is situated on a property the whole family shares, so they’re bound to find out Rosalie’s here. The estate holds three mansions – my parents’ place, Uncle Alexei’s, and mine. There are also a couple of guesthouses that are mainly used by our guards.

My father and Uncle Alexei are inseparable and ran the bratva together before I took over. The bratva is mine by birthright as my grandfather, on my mother’s side, ruled before he died.

Over the past two years, I’ve worked my ass off to make a name for myself. Sure, I was feared because of the legacy my family created, but now grown men piss themselves because everyone knows there’s nowhere you can fucking hide to get away from my wrath should you incur it. Having a conscience is for the weak, so if someone gets on my wrong side, I’ll hunt them down, and I won’t hesitate to torture, maim, and kill anyone who dares to oppose me.

Rosalie’s cheek rubs against my shoulder, her eyes drowsily fluttering open and closed as she struggles to fight the sedative.

Again something too tender for the likes of me stirs in my heart.

“Shh…” I murmur. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

The girl was one hell of a surprise. An exquisite one at that. When I saw her lying on the bed, her perfect ass on full display, her toned legs crossed at the ankles, my first thought was that she looked like a wet dream come to life. I hardened in a split second.

Then she looked at me, and I swear the ground shook beneath my feet with the force of a thousand earthquakes.

Rosalie Manno is nothing short of an ethereal vision.

She makes me feel fucking overprotective but also brings out a dark side I never knew I had. It’s different from the one that doesn’t think twice about ending a life.

It’s savage and predatory.

I want to protect the girl, but at the same time, the beast in me wants to feel her tremble and use her tears to satisfy the hunger growing in my chest since I first laid eyes on her.

Entering the guest room, I carefully lay Rosalie down on the king-size bed. Her dark brown hair is long and wild, her olive-toned skin looking a little too pale.

I allow my eyes to drift over all of her, the tank top that doesn’t do much to hide the swells of her firm breasts, the stretch of silky skin around her abdomen, the tight shorts showing off the taunting gap between her thighs.

Jesus.

I hear footsteps, and as I glance over my shoulder, it’s to see Luca coming to stand in the doorway. He glances at Rosalie, and it has me reaching for the covers and throwing them over her to hide her body from my best friend’s view.

“Your whore?” he asks, his tone clearly stating he doesn’t know what to make of my actions.

During the flight back, I stayed with Rosalie in the bedroom in case she woke up, so we haven’t had a chance to talk about the fact that I kidnapped the girl.

“I only said I’d make her my whore to torture Antonio Manno.”

“So you’ll let her go?”

I glance at Rosalie’s sleeping face before heading out of the room. I shut the door and lock it, pocketing the key. Walking down the hallway, I feel Luca behind me, but I only answer him once we’re in the living room and I’m pouring drinks.

“No.”

His right eyebrow lifts as he takes the tumbler of whiskey from me. “May I ask why?”

I take a sip of the vodka, savoring the quick burn. “The girl just lost everything, Luca. She has nowhere to go.”

“She can go to the Cosa Nostra.”

Shaking my head, I let out a humorless chuckle. “Not happening, brother. Drop it.”

Luca’s eyes lock with mine, concern tightening his features. “Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

My family is known for a lot in the criminal world, anything from dealing in arms and assassinating high-value targets to cybercrimes and money laundering. But we don’t hurt women, and we sure as fuck don’t condone sexual slavery. Aunt Isabella’s spent her life bringing down sex trafficking syndicates with the help of Uncle Alexei.

I give my friend a look of warning. “The safest place for the girl is with me.”

Luca nods before finishing his drink. “I’m going to get some sleep. Try to get some rest.”

Nodding, I swallow another sip of vodka, my eyes following Luca as he opens the front door and leaves. I set the tumbler down and slowly turn my head in the direction of the stairs.

I have no idea what I’m going to do with Rosalie Manno. I took her to protect her, but I’m pretty sure she’s not going to see it that way.

After she turns eighteen, I’ll let her go. Until then, I’ll feed and clothe the girl.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial Sacha’s number. He’s been with the bratva since before I was born and is my most trusted man. The man is practically family. I instructed him to get all of Rosalie’s belongings, so she’ll at least have something familiar while staying with me.

“Viktor?” he answers after the second ring.

“Did you get everything?”

“Yes. I’m on my way back.”

“Good.”

Letting out a sigh, I tuck the device back in my pocket and head to my bedroom so I can shower and change into comfortable clothes before facing off with the Sicilian princess.

While standing beneath the warm spray of water, my thoughts are inundated with the day’s events. Rosalie’s fear when I licked the tear from her cheek was palpable. It created an inferno of protectiveness and possessiveness inside me.

No woman has ever had this effect on me.

Sure I feel protective of the women in my family, and I’d die for any of them in a heartbeat.

But Rosalie triggered different emotions within me.

Not ready to figure out why, I shove the thoughts down and step out of the shower so I can dry off.

After pulling on black sweatpants and a t-shirt, I grab an extra shirt and walk to the guest room. There’s silence behind the door as I unlock it, and when I shove it open, it’s to see Rosalie leaning out of the open window and staring down at the garden below.

“If you jump, you’d probably break a leg,” I mutter as I walk into the room. “Or two.”

She spins around, her chest heaving as her fear quickly tightens the air.

I drop the shirt on the bed. “There are guards all over the grounds, so you won’t get far.”

Her tongue darts out to nervously wet her lips, her eyes glued on me.

Christ, she has the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen.

There’s nothing I can do to stop myself from taking in her petite body. She has curves in all the right places, and the fucking V between her legs makes my cock stir behind the fabric of my sweatpants.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I order, “Put on the shirt. Your clothes are revealing and distracting as fuck.”

She darts to the bed, and trembling like a leaf caught in a hurricane, she pulls the shirt over her head, capturing her hair beneath the fabric. Thankfully, the shirt falls to the middle of her thighs.

I step forward, and it makes her freeze like a hunted deer, her breaths quickly turning shallow until she’s practically gasping.

When I take another step, she stumbles backward, her fear-filled eyes never leaving me. With every step I take, she matches mine until she’s backed up against the wall. Her gaze darts wildly around the room, and when I lift my arms, she recoils, tucking her chin low and pinching her eyes shut.

I slip my hands beneath the silky strands of her hair and gently pull her hair from the fabric so it will fall freely down her back. Her eyes flick up to mine, only to quickly dart back down to the floor.

She smells soft and sweet and looks so fucking vulnerable it has my heart squeezing.

When she peeks up at me again, I ask, “Do you know who I am?”

She shakes her head, the single word quivering over her lips filled with a world of vulnerability. “N-no.”

“Viktor Vetrov.”

My name registers with shock and terror, draining the color from her face.

She’s definitely heard of me.

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