The Mafia Dons Pet (Masha and Luciano) novel Chapter 5

Masha

My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at the faded wallpaper in the empty hallway.

I instantly regretted what I’d said, but I couldn’t let him win. He wanted me to submit—to hand over every ounce of control. That wasn’t something I would do easily.

Luciano’s eyebrow arched, the flicker of amusement in his dark eyes somehow more terrifying than outright anger.

“In an hour,” he said, voice calm, deliberate—like a predator biding his time.

“You’ll be one of us, whether you want to or not.”

His fingers brushed my cheek, light but lingering, branding my skin with invisible heat.

I glanced toward the entrance, silently praying a guest would appear, anyone who could interrupt this suffocating moment. But no one came.

Every nerve screamed at me to step away. Instead, I froze, trapped beneath his gaze.

His lips curled into a smirk, charming and cruel all at once. “Resist,” he murmured, leaning closer until I felt his breath against my skin. “And your life will be hell.”

My head moved in a reluctant nod, hoping it would diffuse the tension.

To my surprise, his expression shifted—just slightly—his cold edges softening into something almost…gentle. But the fear didn’t leave.

“Emma can answer any questions you have about our world,” he said, tone clipped, already back to business. “Take my number.” He glanced over his shoulder like a warning. “Next time, if you decide to change plans on me, I’d better know.”

He stepped back, but not before letting his gaze sweep over me one last time, sharp and final.

“Let’s make this the last time we argue. Understood?”

I forced another nod and scribbled down his number, my fingers trembling so hard the ink wobbled across the paper.

As soon as he turned away, I fished a Xanax from my purse and swallowed it dry, the bitter taste coating my tongue.

I had to play along. Had to play the part of an obedient mafia princess. I had no choice. Not now.

Pulling myself together, I returned to the sprawling garden Jimson was so proud of. After what just happened, I was grateful Alice hadn’t come to the wedding. I couldn’t even imagine dealing with both Luciano and Alice on the same day. That would’ve been a nightmare.

The ceremony had begun. I slipped into my place as maid of honor beside Luciano, sneaking a glance at Emma and Kol just behind us.

Emma and I looked like twins in our flowing dresses, while Kol and Luciano were an effortless match in their tailored navy suits.

The garden looked like something out of a dream—ivory-draped tents, twinkling fairy lights, and a path of daisies lining the aisle. Roses spilled over tables in deep crimson bursts, petals like drops of wine.

But no amount of beauty could distract me from the brooding presence beside me.

When our parents exchanged vows, Luciano reached out casually, his fingers brushing the small of my back.

A shiver crawled up my spine. I bit my lip to keep my composure.

When the ceremony ended, there was no escape. He guided me to the reception, his hand never leaving the small of my back.

Under the tent, he settled beside me, his hand resting just a few inches from mine. My body was a live wire—hyperaware of every movement he made.

The way he loosened his tie. The way he folded his sleeves. Even the faint, crooked tilt of his smile.

I realized I’d been staring at him too long when my plate remained untouched.

Noticing my empty appetite, Luciano picked up his whiskey and placed it in front of me. His gaze locked on mine, daring me to refuse.

“It’ll help,” he said simply.

I wanted to push it away. I wanted to resist.

But I didn’t. I took it.

The whiskey burned its way down my throat, followed by a desperate gulp of wine to chase away the bitterness.

As the alcohol began to soften my edges, I watched my mother and Jimson waltz into the center of the tent, moving as if no one else existed.

She looked so happy. So happy.

And that’s when it hit me.

I’d lost her.

Jimson had taken her completely. If Luciano ever did something to me—something truly awful—she wouldn’t save me. She wouldn’t even notice.

I was on my own.

Luciano’s fingers brushed mine, taking the glass of wine from my hand and sipping from the exact spot my lips had touched. A small, casual, possessive gesture.

I wanted to lean away. To create distance.

But he leaned in closer.

“Little sister,” he murmured, “how are your studies going?”

I blinked at him, startled. Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t it.

“Fine,” I muttered, keeping my tone neutral.

But then his next words sliced through my haze like a blade.

“When you graduate in June, I’ll arrange your marriage,” he said, as if he were announcing the weather. “By July, you’ll be someone’s wife.”

The world tilted.

“No,” I whispered, then stronger. “No. That’s not happening.”

His expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked bored.

“The sooner you’re married off, the sooner you’re no longer my problem,” he replied calmly. “You represent the Vincenzoni name now. Your actions reflect on me. I can’t afford the luxury of a liability.”

A liability. That’s all I was to him.

My anger cut through the numbness. “You want me to throw away my life? My dreams? To marry some stranger and be nothing but a stay-at-home wife?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

I searched his face for something—anything—human. “Do you care at all?”

His lips curved into a cold smirk. “Why would I care? You’ve given me nothing to care about.”

He raised my wine to his lips, drinking from it lazily. “Obey,” he murmured, “and maybe I won’t marry you off to the oldest, richest bastard I know.”

My stomach twisted. “I’d rather die.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can arrange that too.”

A wave of nausea rolled through me. I tipped back the rest of the whiskey just to feel something other than despair.

Across the room, Emma’s eyes were fixed on us, her expression filled with silent worry. But I knew she couldn’t save me. No one could.

Luciano’s hand slid into mine, pulling me into a shadowed corner.

He wrapped his arms around me, pretending it was comfort. But his lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Listen to me, and we’ll get along just fine.”

No.

I had to find a way to beat him—before he stripped away the last piece of my freedom.

Luciano

Masha stiffened in my arms.

She hated this. Hated me.

But what she didn’t realize was that there was nothing—and no one—I couldn’t control.

She liked to be free, to make her own decisions. She didn’t understand that freedom was a luxury she could no longer afford.

There can’t be two captains on one ship.

Every flash of defiance in her eyes only fueled my resolve. She was the most stubborn, most challenging person I’d ever encountered. And I couldn’t deny it—breaking her walls would be… exhilarating.

I felt every tiny flinch, every shallow breath. The way she tried to shrink away only stirred something darker in me.

Masha wasn’t like the others. She was a puzzle, a mystery begging to be unraveled. I didn’t just want her obedience—I wanted her submission. The kind that came from deep inside, the kind she wouldn’t be able to take back.

No one ever said no to me. But she’d said it. Twice.

When I was done, the only word she’d know would be yes.

I pictured my fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head back, forcing her to look at me. Would that be what it took to make her finally surrender?

The thought made my pulse quicken.

I needed to pull myself back. Slowly, I led her back to our table, keeping my hand firm on her arm—just enough pressure to remind her who held control.

Emma’s curious stare met mine as we passed. What’s going on? her lips mouthed.

I smiled faintly, revealing nothing.

Masha didn’t look at me. She didn’t look anywhere. She sat stiff and silent, her shoulders tight, her body radiating the same tension she’d had the first night at the family dinner. She was like a cornered animal, aware there was no escape.

She still hadn’t touched her food. Just whiskey and wine.

I poured her a glass of water, sliding it toward her.

Her fingers hesitated in midair, frozen like she expected some cruel trick. When I didn’t move, she finally reached for it.

A single drop escaped, rolling down to her bottom lip.

I stared at it, at the soft curve of her mouth glistening faintly. Should I wipe it off? Or kiss it away?

My jaw tightened. I needed to focus. But the image of her lips whispering, Stay, Luciano, wormed into my thoughts.

I couldn’t let myself lose control. Not yet.

I stood abruptly, clearing my head.

I needed to shift the board, to tighten my hold. I walked to the dance floor, where Tiffney and my father were still swaying together.

I tapped my father’s shoulder. “May I have this dance with your beautiful wife?”

His eyes flickered in mild surprise, but he nodded. “Don’t keep her too long. She’s mine.”

I smiled faintly, taking Tiffney’s hand.

As we danced, I didn’t waste time. “I want to take charge of Masha’s expenses.”

Tiffney raised her brows. “Why?”

“It’s only natural,” I replied smoothly. “She’s the youngest. I’m responsible for the family’s finances now. I’ll see to it that she’s… well taken care of.”

Tiffney smiled warmly, clearly oblivious to the deeper meaning. “That’s generous of you. Thank you.”

Perfect. One step closer.

I guided Tiffney back, then turned to Masha and held out my hand.

“Dance with me.”

Her jaw tightened, eyes flicking to the crowded dancefloor. She hesitated. But in the end, she placed her hand in mine.

Her fingers were cold.

I pulled her into the center of the tent, close enough to feel the fast, uneven rhythm of her heart.

“You’re trembling, Masha,” I murmured, my voice a low warning.

She lifted her chin, forcing defiance into her gaze even as fear lingered beneath.

“Maybe I’m just not used to dancing with kings,” she said.

I leaned down, lips near her ear.

“Then you should get used to it. Every inch of this city, every face in this room… bows to me. Vancouver is mine. And so is anyone who dares to step into it.”

She met my eyes, her voice soft but laced with quiet sarcasm.

“Then maybe you should find someone who likes bowing.”

I tightened my grip just slightly, steering her smoothly across the floor, close enough that I could feel her chest rise against mine.

“That’s the thing, Masha,” I whispered. “I like resistance. It makes it so much better when you finally break.”

Her cheeks flushed. She looked away.

So I pushed her further.

“Tell me, Masha,” I said lightly, deliberately casual, “are you a virgin?”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide in shock. Color rushed to her face.

“W-what kind of question is that?!” she stammered.

“I need to know these things,” I said smoothly, as if we were discussing the weather. “Your future husband would expect answers.”

Her eyes darkened with rage. And suddenly—she shoved me.

The force surprised me.

“You’re disgusting!” she spat, her voice slicing through the music.

Before I could react, she turned on her heel and bolted.

I watched her run, a slow thrill curling through me.

She was fierce. Unpredictable.

And I wanted to see just how far I could push her before she shattered completely.

—

Masha

Humiliation burned hot under my skin.

It was like Luciano had made it his mission to crawl under my skin, to drag me past the edge.

I’d tried to endure. I’d tried to stay calm. But his last question—so invasive, so violating—snapped something inside me.

I couldn’t take another second.

I ran.

My heels clicked against the marble as I fled the tent, darting into the house and down the hall until I found the bathroom. I pushed inside and almost slammed the door shut—

But a hand stopped it.

“No,” I whispered, panic rising in my throat.

The door swung back. Luciano stepped inside. He shut it quietly behind him, the soft click sealing my fate.

The bathroom was small, the air thick with floral soap and too much closeness.

My back hit the cool tile.

He stepped closer.

Too close.

“Please,” I said, my voice breaking. “Just… give me one minute. I just need to breathe.”

But he didn’t listen.

His chest brushed mine, his presence swallowing the tiny space. I turned my face away, desperate to avoid his gaze.

“Please,” I whispered again, shaking my head.

His fingers slid into my hair, weaving through the strands like silk. He tilted my face toward his.

My heart thrashed violently against my ribs.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. My body betrayed me—frozen, trembling.

He was too close. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and deliberate.

And in that moment, I understood.

He didn’t just want to control my life.

Luciano wanted all of me.

He wanted my thoughts. My will. My body.

Everything.

His grip on my chin tightened, forcing my gaze to his.

“Can I taste you,” he murmured, his voice like velvet over steel, “on behalf of your future husband?”