The Italian Don's Captive Bride

Chapter No.5

Cassandra Petrova:-

I punched his chest, but he didn’t budge. He punished me, claimed me, as his mouth devoured mine. I tried to twist away, but Eliseo only dug his fist in my hair even deeper, forcing the kiss as he took everything he could from me. My closed lids brought tears of rage, my heart pounding in my ears. I hated him. I despised the fact that he took my choice, my life, my very breath.

But my body—weak, traitorous body — responded, a flash of heat low in my stomach, and then I shoved it away and reminded myself who he was, what he had done. He then pulled back, leaving my lips swollen and bruised from the harshness of his kiss. A sharp contrast to what happened a moment before, his thumb almost tenderly brushed the corner of my mouth.

Eliseo’s voice was velvet over steel, as he said, "You can hate me all you want, Cassandra. Neither will it change that you belong to me, by my side as my wife and mother of my children."

Adjusting his jacket like he hadn't just assaulted me with a kiss, he leaned back against the seat. I sat, trembling in a bubbling broil of hatred and then fear, and the nauseatingly powerful thread of desire I couldn't slay no matter how I tried.

"I don't belong to you!" I hissed, settling down on the seat, giving him a cold shoulder. "I won't be your wife, and sure as hell I won't be the mother of your child."

"I said children. I would love to have more than one with you," he corrected with a smirk, "And don't you dare raise your hand on me again, Cara Mia." A deadly smirk formed on his face as he licked his lips and looked at mine. "Or maybe, you should, because the next time I won't just stop on a kiss, but demand for more than just a kiss until you and I are both breathless and satisfied."

I slowly turned around to glare at him, every single muscle in my body coiled like a wire ready to break. "Touch me again, Eliseo, and I swear I will cut your d**k off with my favorite blade."

His smirk only widened. "That’s my girl. Fire suits you, Diavoletta Mia. I look forward to taming it."

"I look forward to making your life a living hell," I smirked. "You don't know who you messed up with, Eliseo."

I crossed my arms, scoffed, and turned my face towards the window, sure that I would no longer give him another glance. The warm evening air hit my face when the SUV came to a smooth halt, and the door was yanked open. But the relief was short-lived when I found myself at the airport with a private jet on standby. Its engines were already humming. Silent, alert, and armed, it was surrounded by Eliseo’s men like shadows.

Eliseo stepped out of the car, grabbed my wrist, and coolly said, "Come along. We have a flight to catch, Mrs. Leone."

I spat. "I’m not your wife," I said, trying to twist out of his grip. "I’m not going anywhere with you."

His nose was practically level with my face, and he yanked me close. "Yes, you are. You are acting like a crazy king who rules the whole damn world, you asshole. You think you have the right to crash into my wedding, lie about me being pregnant, and then kidnap me?"

He grinned wickedly as he turned. “That’s exactly what I think.”

“Eliseo, you bastard—!”

Finishing the sentence, he hauled me up into his arms and carried me up the stairs like it was nothing more than luggage. I fought him, legs kicking, screaming, but it kept his hold more possessive, tighter, and smacked my ass, not once but thrice. As we stepped on board the jet, we were greeted by a flight attendant who nodded with a forced smile.

She ignored us and had me marched straight to a plush leather seat, forcing me down and buckling my strap around my hips like I was an unruly child. I picked up the glass and smashed it on the flight attendent's bitchy head who was being rude me. Eliseo was on call, I took that as an opportunity and began to run out before the plane could take off, when his men surrounded me.

"Guys, step out of my way if you want to live." I threatened, ripping my bridal gown using the fruit knife placed nearby to cut the fruits. I made a slit out of my dress so I can use my leg to fight and smirked rolling the knife professionaly in my hand.

They didn’t move. Big mistake.

I let out a breath and lashed forward, taking advantage of the surprise of quickly moving for my first strike. I ducked, spun, and elbowed the nearest guard in the throat. He stumbled back, gasping. I was faced with two more coming at me from either side. I kicked one square in the chest, making him fly into the leather seating, then drew the blade in an arc and slashed an arm of the other, twisting his gun from his belt and throwing it across the aisle.

Chaos erupted. My men shouted for the men of Eliseo to restrain me. They were trained in brute force, but I was taught in lethality. Years of secret training have been spent under the Petrov name, not for show. Before I walked down that aisle, or someone's paw. I was an assassin and I warned not to wake me up but the stupid Italian assholes didn't listen.

With a stun baton, a man lunged. I slipped to the side, grabbed his wrist, and smashed the base of my palm into his elbow, snapping his elbow back with a wet crunch. He yelled, and I spun him into his partner as a bowling ball. Eliseo, still at the back of the cabin, leaned casually against the aircraft wall, mug in hand, phone pressed to his ear, and one brow raised, as if impressed by my skills.

I punched another guy in the jaw, ducked under a flailing arm, and landed a roundhouse kick to the last guy still standing. The final man hit the floor groaning, and I stood, my chest heaving, torn gown, wild hair, and knife in hand over the aisle. My glare was locked onto Eliseo, blood smeared across my arm, not mine. Slipping the phone into his pocket, he clapped after he ended the call.

"Well done, my little devil. I am impressed," he said, admiration evident in his eyes. You're good."

"Get out of my way, Eliseo," I snarled, knife resting at his heart. “I’ll take you down too.”

Rolling his neck with a slight smirk, he stepped forward. "I was hoping you would say that, but if you are good, then I am better, Russian princess." he casually rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt before lunging at me, taking me by surprise with his sudden movement and expression.

Fists and instinct hardened along the edges of our bodies. He was fast. Too fast. His strikes were brutal in nature, intentional, calculated, and precise, but not mindless, not the work of a brute, rather the cold, calculated, and precise work of a man who had fought and killed.

But so had I.

I ducked under his swing, swung at his ribs and missed, but he caught my wrist, twisted it mid air and disarmed me. The knife clattered to the floor, I gasped in pain and retaliated with a knee to his gut, a headbutt which caused him to lose composure slightly. I took him for a chokehold, but he shoved me hard up to the wall of the plane, pushing his body into mine to keep me from moving.

He growled something near my ear, breath ragged, “I see you haven’t lost your edge.”

I spat, trying to shove him off, “I see you haven’t lost your arrogance.”

With a smirk on his face, he pinned my wrists above my head with one hand. "You could’ve killed any one of my men. But you didn’t. Why?"

“You think I held back?” I hissed.

He spoke softly, silently, intimately. "I know you did. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but a part of you wanted me to step in."

I kicked him hard on the shin and finally ripped off one arm and jammed my forearm under his throat.

I breathed hard, inches from his lips, then growled, “You think too highly of yourself.”

Blood stained his mouth, he grinned. “And you’re still mine.”

“Over my dead body.”

He said softly, “That can be arranged. But I’d much rather have you alive, I guess. It’s more fun that way.”

My chest heaved against his under him. One knee between my thighs, one hand still holding my wrists pressed to my head, Eliseo had me pinned. It was useless. I thrashed one more time. He was a solid mass of muscle; nothing could have moved his body.

I felt his breath on my cheek as his dark eyes bore me with a quiet, lethal, amused air.

He murmured low and commanding, "Behave, Diavoletta mia. You’ve proven your point. You’re dangerous. You’re fierce. However, you are not getting off this plane. You are my captive bride from now on. You can fight, scream, or kill, but in the end, you will stay stuck with me. I am giving you a choice. We can have a nice flight to Italy, or we can keep continuing this because I can do this all day. But can you?" his body roamed on my body. "I bet this hideous dress isn't very comfortable to fight in."

"I regret sleeping with you that night. If I had known you were my enemy, I would have gone for your head, instead of spreading my legs for you." I gritted my teeth in anger.