Infatuated: Mafia Romance

VI

Sophia eyed him wearily; for two uniformed men had approached, one of whom she had recognized to be his driver, Dominic. Prompted by her outburst, they had taken station near the doorway—Though Kane had quickly dismissed them, his stare still firmly fixed upon her.

He reached for the corkscrew that sat near an empty cheeseboard and Sophia followed his movements with the knife. Her chest heaved violently as she took a few steps backwards, her paltry weapon bobbing.

"Careful. You wouldn't want to hurt yourself," Kane told her rather patronizingly. He motioned towards the knife with a wave of the corkscrew, merlot upon his lips.

Sophia noted the man's brash manner, as he had not acted in such a way when she had seen him, hours earlier, at the event. It was as if they were back in the private, neon-red lounge: large hands across her hips and the taste of watermelon vodka upon her lips.

Kane's voice caused the skin of her neck to prickle; for he had commented on her father's taste in wine and had startled her from her daze.

Sophia only trembled. "H-how did you get inside the house?" she demanded; her voice terribly weak.

Kane grinned with a ferociousness. "You let me in, princess," he stated, the leather of his shoe upon the fallen bouquet. He noticed her quiet attention and finished another sip from the wine, his breath heavy with the taste of merlot.

Sophia remained steadied against the cabinet, her fingers shaking as she held to the knife. "Why have you come?"

The man's eyes admired her lengthily. He had appreciated the black, designer dress, but the silk robe she had wrapped around her tightly was of his personal preference.

"My father's custodian is upstairs," she threatened, though the thought of Lacy and Maeve within the guests' quarters greatly vexed her.

Kane's eyes slid to the side, expressing his indifference. He took another step forward, opening his mouth slightly as he dragged his tongue across the whites of his teeth. "He won't be of much use to you," he warned.

Stricken by his closeness, Sophia faltered. Velvet slippers slick beneath her, her legs were weak as she thudded to the floor with a petrified yelp. Kane was suddenly upon her, grabbing her wrist and knocking the knife from her roughly.

"Don't hurt me, please!" she pleaded.

"I've allowed you safe passage twice," he told her, his breath hot upon her cheek, "Perhaps I was hoping for your gratitude."

Sophia instantly hardened, as she knew his intentions. "Please," she begged again, the blonde hair tangling into the collar of her robe, "Let me go!"

Her hips bucked from beneath his, earning a stare of amusement.

"I only came to discuss," he assured her loosely. He placed a large hand near the edge of her robe and tugged at the silk fabric boyishly. "Though, as far as I'm concerned, you should understand your place beneath me—"

"—Don't touch me!" Sophia choked out. Still straddled beneath his weight, she wrapped her free arm guardedly over her chest, apprehensive at the bareness of her legs.

Kane hardened at the implicit insult. "I have no need to force a woman to let me fuck her!" he spat, his voice becoming brittle.

Visibly displeased at her disfavor, he released her. He motioned for her to stand, allowing her to see the metal of the handgun that had been tucked within the waistband of his slacks.

Sophia grew fearfully obedient.

"Come." The word was sharp as he directed her towards the formal dining room.

Sophia heard the two men within the hallway and took her place shakily atop a tufted, parlor chair, for fear they would be summoned.

"I digress, I was in the mood for your attention," he stated huskily, in reference to his former appetite. "Though that desire for you has expired. Perhaps, now, you will tell me if you have followed the family's request for non-disclosure. We don't need my brother's discrepancies nor matters at the club put out on display."

Sophia started to sob. "What have they done with the girl? They haven't hurt her, have they?"

"Who?" Kane scoffed. Her defiance to his primary question had angered him deeply.

"The girl from the streets. She was—"

"—Crying over a prostitute? An entertaining sentiment," he mused, though the thought did little to interest him.

"They haven't killed her, have they?"

"Dmitry's property isn't much of your concern," he spat, "Given the circumstances, it would suit you to worry more of your own well-being."

Sophia resigned. "I haven't contacted police," she assured the man weakly.

Kane smiled; for he had been the curator of the warning that had been left upon her doorstep weeks prior. "I hadn't expected you to; but what of your father? Friends? I would trust you to value their safety, would you not?"

"I haven't told them anything!" she insisted.

Kane took another swig from her father's merlot; as he was certain she knew well of the cost if she were found to be lying. "Where is your father, Ms. Stomsvik?" he asked her incontinently; for it was the reason for his visit.

Sophia was affrighted.

"I see he isn't here," he continued, aware of her concern.

"He had business in Dubai," she answered him.

Kane ate her fear up charmingly, pacing around the formal table in long, arrogant strides. "And his return?"

"Please! You needn't involve him!"

"When will your father, Aleksander, return?" he insisted to her thickly; to which the tears fell freely from beneath Sophia's eyes. Wine sloshing, Kane nudged her wettened cheek roughly, the bottle still in hand.

"He is to return in a month," she told him finally, "Around my birthday."

Kane was appeased. He patted her face boastfully before finishing the remaining contents of the wine.

Motioning towards his men, he left her; but not before grabbing an expensive tawny-port from the sitting-room and corking it open.

"Sleep well, Ms. Stomsvik," he told her.

Sophia eyed the Romanov man wearily and he left the estate-house in due course, an Adonis-like smile upon his well-trimmed face.

◊