Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 11

Davina's POV:

***Trigger Warning***Sensitive content***Proceed at your own risk or skip to the end**

The front door creaked softly as I slipped inside, the familiar scent of home – a mix of Mom's cooking and Lexi's ever-present lavender candles – a stark contrast to the smoky, debauched atmosphere I'd just left. The house was quiet, the only sound the gentle ticking of the old clock in the hallway. I held my breath, hoping to make it upstairs unnoticed.

But as I reached the bottom of the staircase, a figure emerged from the shadows of the living room. Dexter. He was sitting in his usual armchair, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand, his eyes narrowed and fixed on me. The dim light from the hallway cast harsh shadows across his face, making his already unpleasant features seem even more menacing.

"Well, look who's finally back" he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. "Out late, were we?"

My heart sank. An interrogation was the last thing I needed. I tried to keep my voice even. "Just... catching up with a friend, Dexter."

His eyes narrowed further, his gaze raking over me as his nostrils were taking in the smell I brought inside the house from the club. "A friend who smoked his lungs on you?" His tone was accusatory, laced with a familiar sneer. "What kind of 'friend'?"

I clenched my fists, trying to control my rising anger and the fear that still lingered from Ezra. "It's none of your business, Dexter."

He chuckled, a harsh, unpleasant sound. "Everything that happens under this roof is my business. Especially when my wife's sister starts sneaking in at all hours" He gestured dismissively at me.

"Let go of me, Dexter!" I yelled, my voice rising in alarm.

He plavced his hand over my mouth and laughed, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. "What's the matter, Davina? Afraid of a little fun?" His grip tightened further, and he tried to pull me closer, his other hand reaching out towards me. You're practically asking for it." His grip tightened further, his other hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against my bare shoulder in a way that made my stomach churn.

With a desperate surge of adrenaline, fueled by pure terror, I kicked out blindly, my bare heel connecting with a sickening thud against his shin. He roared in pain, a guttural bellow that echoed through the house, his grip on my arm momentarily loosening. I yanked my arm free with a violent jerk and stumbled backwards, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird, each frantic beat a desperate plea for escape.

Without a second thought, I turned and fled, my bare feet pounding a frantic rhythm on the polished wooden stairs. Tears streamed down my face, hot and uncontrolled, blurring my vision as I scrambled upwards, the horrifying image of Dexter's enraged face and those predatory full of lust eyes burned into my mind. I reached the relative sanctuary of my bedroom, fumbling desperately with the lock, my hands shaking so violently that it took several agonizing seconds before the small bolt finally slid into place with a soft click. I slammed the door shut behind me, collapsing against its solid wood, my breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. The familiar comfort of my room offered little solace, the terrifying encounter with Dexter leaving me shaken, violated, and acutely aware that the supposed safety of my own home had been irrevocably shattered.