Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 56

Davina's POV:

The thought of stepping outside, of breathing air not filtered through Ezra's penthouse or the one from the club, was a tantalizing, terrifying prospect. After hanging up with Lexi, a surge of defiant energy mixed with crippling dread. How would I even leave? Ezra had made it clear I was a prisoner, I could only go to the club with him and be back to his penthouse. My mind raced, contemplating defiance, but the sheer scale of his control. There was only one way.

I found Ezra in his private gym, a sleek, modern space humming with the low thrum of high-tech machinery. He was on the bench press, his powerful chest heaving, veins prominent in his forearms as he pushed an impossible amount of weight. Sweat sheened on his skin, glistening over taut muscles that flexed and rippled with each controlled movement. His black tank top clung to his torso, defining every sculpted line, his dark hair damp and falling across his forehead.

My mouth went dry. A primal, unwanted heat uncurled in my belly, a visceral response that betrayed every fiber of my conscious mind. He was a monster, a killer, the embodiment of my darkest fears, yet my body remembered. It remembered the strength of those arms around me, the feel of his skin, the intoxicating scent of him.

The first time. In the luxurious haze of his bedroom. My breath hitched as his hand, so powerful, had brushed against my hip, his eyes, dark and intense, holding mine. He had been patient, surprisingly gentle, unraveling me with a slow, deliberate touch, until the sharp pang of initial pain had dissolved into a searing, exquisite pleasure that had consumed me whole. My world had narrowed to his touch, his breath against my ear, the raw, profound intimacy of losing myself completely for the very first time, to him.

The memory, potent and aching, was a betrayal. It slammed into me, hot and unwelcome, even as the cold image of the man's lifeless face flashed behind my eyes. How could I crave the touch of a man who had ended a life with such brutal indifference? The contrast was a visceral punch, twisting my stomach. I hated him. I hated myself for this insidious, undeniable attraction that clawed at me, even now. I dragged my gaze away from his mesmerizing form, focusing instead on a point on the wall, forcing my breathing to remain even.

"I need to leave," I stated, my voice flat, betraying none of the tremor in my hands.

He lowered the weights with a soft clang, then slowly rose, turning to face me. His eyes, cold and assessing, swept over me. "And where exactly do you intend to go?" His voice was a low rumble, the sound resonating through my bones, stirring something deep and unsettling within me.

"My sister called," I stated, my voice flat, betraying none of the tremor in my hands. I met his gaze, refusing to flinch, despite the battle raging inside me. "Lexi. She wants to meet. She wants to make sure I am safe. To sort things out." I deliberately left out the desperation in my voice. My sister'plea to know if I was safe.

His lips thinned. "Your sister. The one married to Dexter." His tone implied a knowledge of my family's messy history, of my mother's rejection. Of course he knew. He knew everything. "And you believe this meeting is necessary?"

"Yes," I said, my voice gaining a desperate edge I couldn't quite hide. "Yes, it is. She's my sister. My family."

He held my gaze for a long moment, an unreadable intensity in his eyes. I braced myself for a harsh refusal, for a reminder of my imprisonment. Instead, he simply nodded. "Fine. A car will be ready at eleven-thirty. You will be escorted. And you will return immediately after your meeting. Understood?"

Relief, sharp and unexpected, flooded me, followed by a fresh wave of humiliation. Escorted. A prisoner given a brief parole. "Understood," I mumbled, turning to leave before he could see the profound conflict raging within me. The lingering heat from his presence, the ghosts of our past intimacy, still clung to the air, making my skin prickle.

Stepping out of the penthouse and into the bright sunshine the next day felt like an awakening. The city air, heavy with the scent of jasmine and car exhaust, hit me with a dizzying rush. I was in a black, armored SUV, two of Ezra's silent, imposing men in the front, but for a few precious hours, I was out. My heart hammered with a desperate kind of freedom, even as I knew it was an illusion.

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