Ashley felt lightheaded, her head throbbing as her body moved in the same relentless rhythm along with the creak of the bed. It felt like she was caught in a massive wave, helpless as it swept her away.
"Are you going to behave now?"
The dark, low baritone snapped her out of her haze. She forced her shaky eyes to refocus, catching a pair of brooding dark eyes staring down at her. She gulped nervously, his weight pressing against her bare skin.
Ashley nodded on instinct, her arms pinned roughly above her head by one of his hands.
"Good," he smirked, lowering his head to plant a soft kiss on her parted lips. Then he trailed downward, his mouth hovering beside her ear.
"Don't upset me again." His hot breath brushed against her neck as he whispered, "The next time you try running away, don't get caught. It won't end with just this."
As the words rolled off his tongue, he thrust his hips, earning a helpless whimper from her.
Lucian kept her pinned beneath him, claiming every inch of her as his. She squirmed under his hold, and despite her pleasured moans and breathless whimpers, her nasty attitude still managed to slip through.
"Prick," she hissed.
He smirked against her lips, the sadist that he was, and continued. But unlike him, Ashley was thinking of something else.
How… am I back in here?
*****
Hours later, Ashley groaned as she was coaxed out of her slumber.
"What is going on?" She pushed herself out of bed, dragging her feet toward the bathroom. As soon as she reached it, she stopped before the large mirror that almost occupied the entire wall.
Staring at her body, marked with his bites, rough grip, and dark hickeys, a deep exhale escaped her.
"That… son of a gun," she muttered, biting her inner lip as bitterness flickered across her eyes. She clicked her tongue and approached the sink, splashing cold water on her face.
Once she finished, she propped a hand on the sink and looked at her reflection. Silence settled over her, looking at herself sternly and deeply like never before.
"Why did I even do that?" she asked herself. "I'm so stupid for falling for that kind of trick."
*****
[Flashback]
BANG!
The loud echo of gunfire rang in her ears. Ashley's eyes constricted as she watched the man seated across from her jerk when a bullet drilled into his temple.
The next thing she heard was his body hitting the floor with a violent thud. The screams and panic that followed in the restaurant sounded distant and muffled as she stared at the man she had been seeing for the past three months.
Having been raised in the violent world of crime, Ashley was desensitized to such things. Even so, her heart thudded with a sudden bad premonition.
"Miss."
Moments later, a stern voice came from her side. Even before she looked, she already knew who it was.
Scott. Marshal Di Carpio's right-hand man. The second-in-command of the second-largest mafia family on the continent. Unfortunately, that mafia don was also Ashley's father.
"Your father says you should come home," Scott said calmly, unbothered by the blood that had crawled toward and stained his black shoes.
Ashley bit her lip as she looked up at him. Scott's beard had streaks of white—no surprise there, considering he was in his fifties. His long hair was tied in a low bun, and his black overcoat made his large build appear even bigger.
The corners of her eyes reddened, and even before she spoke, Scott could read what was on her mind.
"He's not good for you," Scott remarked, glancing at the dead man on the floor. "He's from Marcelo's and approached you with an ulterior motive."
Then he looked back at her.
"Please, come with me."
"No!" Ashley shot up from her seat, disgust clear in her eyes. "I am no longer part of the Di Carpios. Didn't he make that clear already?!"
She took a step back, fury flashing across her face.
"Marshal Di Carpio sent me to my death, Scott. He made it very clear that I—his bastard—am dispensable, but not his beloved daughter. If I didn't leave that house, it's either that I'm dead or that he is. Stop pestering me. I am not coming back to that hell!"
Having said her piece, Ashley turned and was about to leave when men blocked her path. The restaurant where she had been having a nice date was already empty of civilians. Only men sent by the Di Carpio mafia remained.
"Move out of my way," she warned.
Before she could force her way out, Scott spoke again.
"I'm afraid we can't leave without you, Miss." His voice was calm as a lake. "Your father sent an order."
"Did he tell you to put a hole between my brows if I didn't comply?" Ashley snorted, looking back at him. "I'd like to see you try, Scott."
"He said that if you refuse to listen, he ordered us to shoot anyone you interacted with in the past year you were away," Scott clarified, making her stop mid-step. "Be it just bumping into them, or someone kind enough to open the door for you. Or as simple as others saying hi—like that little kid in that pathetic apartment next to yours who always greets you."
"The library you work at will also burn to the ground while everyone is still inside," Scott continued. "The moment you walk out that door, that will be the first thing that happens. I can keep going, Miss."
Ashley slowly turned and studied him. Right then and there, she knew he was telling the truth.
Nothing was excessive in the world of crime. And her father, Marshal? He definitely had a special place in hell—maybe even a statue commemorating how legendary he was in cruelty.
And if there was one thing she had learned growing up as that man's daughter, it was never to challenge his word. His orders were gospel to his men. If he commanded it, they would execute it without fail.
"Miss." Scott approached, stopping a few steps away. "The family has been in peace talks with our rival, Dominion. Your father needs you."
"Need me for what?"
Scott remained quiet while Ashley swallowed hard.
"You will be marrying Lucian De Luca tonight. Once your marriage is registered at Vermilion Court, you will be sent to his territory," Scott declared in the same calm voice. "You do not have to worry. Everything has already been arranged. All you need to do is change."
Ashley scoffed as he motioned toward the front door.
"Please," he said. "We do not have the time."
"We would have if you scheduled it in the next ten fucking years," she hissed, turning her back on him as she walked off.
*****
One year ago, Ashley left the Di Carpio famiglia after her father sent her on a deadly mission. Her entire team died, and she was arrested. Had it not been for the lack of evidence tying her to the crime, she would have been rotting in jail.
Since then, Ashley had been alone.
She had started to believe she was finally free from the Di Carpios. That her father had truly lost interest in her.
But that illusion shattered today. Worse, it shattered in the most horrible way.
Marriage?
"Screw this," Ashley hissed as she stared down at the white dress she wore for the rushed five-minute wedding ceremony with a proxy standing in for her supposed groom—before being shoved onto a plane bound for her husband's territory.
Her groom—whose name was written on the marriage certificate—Lucian De Luca, was the leader of the largest underground organization: the Black Dragon's Dominion.
Anyone in the underground world knew that organization. Just its name alone was enough to make one tremble—except the arrogant Marshal Di Carpio.
Some time ago before she was arrested, she knew that Dominion had crossed her father.
Who would have thought that instead of killing each other, her father would agree to a marriage alliance?
Well, he had an extra daughter to spare!
Ashley buried her face in her hands and let out a frustrated scream. She should have known her father wouldn't care whether she rotted in jail or died. The only time he ever cared was when he needed something from her.
"I can't believe he really sent me to marry a man who could be older than him," she hissed, pausing when a figure appeared in the aisle.
Dropping her hands to her lap, she looked up and saw one of the flight attendants smiling at her.
"Miss, we're landing soon," she said. "Please fasten your seatbelt."
Ashley scoffed. "Hey, can you crash the plane?"
The flight attendant only smiled politely, leaving Ashley to sigh heavily as she reluctantly buckled her seatbelt.
"Never mind that," she whispered, staring out the window. "If I play my cards right…"
She trailed off, continuing it in her mind. I can escape this arrangement.
"Let's just hope he's much older than I expect. Hopefully old enough that… he can't get it up."
Little did she know, she was wrong—very wrong. Because an erection was not a problem for her husband. Getting it down was.
And that... it was just the beginning of her own hell that led to her eventual death.