Chapter 7: Enjoy Your Stay

(SERGIO)

Minutes later, we touch down. I descend the steps, making sure that Ivanna is right behind me with Maksim on her tail. My car is already waiting. So, I clasp her arm and pull her toward the car and immediately, I feel a sharp pain in my hand.

"Fuck!" I hiss. She stabbed me with a pen! Now the tip is stuck in my flesh. I snarl and rip the pen off my skin. Motherfucker.

Ivanna darts off the minute she gets the chance, but she is no match for Maksim. I haven't even finished wiping the blood off my hand and Maksim has already dragged her back into the car.

"Help!" She yells to the crew that I employed at the private airstrip. "Please help! I'm being kidnapped!"

The men laugh. No one within a fifty-mile radius here would help somebody claiming that they were being kidnapped here. They all know better. I jerk the car door open. "Get inside, Ivanna!"

I walk around to the other side of the car, boiling with rage until I almost choke on it. He has embarrassed me and made me look weak before my men. He drew my blood!

She will pay for this as soon as we get home. She fights Maksim, but it is all in vain. Soon, she is pushed beside me and the car speeds off. "I will not apologize." She yells like a child throwing a tantrum.

For once, I don't try to appear civilized. Instead, I let her see the darkness that I always have bottled up inside. "Good, because I look forward to making you pay."

She swallows hard and focuses on the scenery. Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at my home. The Sakharov Castle. I always appreciated every part of this castle, the olive groves, the farmlands, the pasture and vineyards, but at the moment, I can't appreciate any of it, which only sparks my rage worse.

I don't move when the car stops at the stone entry. "Leave us." I order Maksim and the driver. The doors close and Ivanna jumps nervously. I angle slightly towards her and ask menacingly. "Do you know my favorite thing about owning this castle?"

"N…no." she stutters.

"Not even a guess?"

"The turrets?"

I smirk and get out then come to her side. I pull her out of the car then lean dangerously close to her ear. "No. The dungeon."

She gasps. My patience is spread thin as a sheet of paper. I don't give her a chance to run away. Instead, I haul her over my shoulder and walk towards the back entrance that leads to the ground floor.

Stop." She begins to thrash, kicking her legs. "Put me down. Please. Stop."

I ignore her noises and keep going.

"No, no please you can't keep me in the dungeon. Don't take me down there, please, Sir."

Sir? That's new.

But I am mad beyond rational thought. Normally, we use the dungeon for business, though I prefer to not kill people at my home. It makes too much of a mess. Ivanna could stew in one of those dark dank cells until she learnt how to appreciate my hospitality.

By the time I open the door, she is practically weeping. Good. Maybe now, she gets to learn her lesson.

"Please, Sir, you can't leave me here. Please. Don't put me down here."

The soles of my shoes screech as I descend the stairs. The walls in the dungeons reek of hopelessness. Blood and despair are all that hung in the atmosphere. The two very scents that never fail to please me. I have killed countless people and done unspeakable things in this room. And Karlen would do countless more. That's how the Sakharov legacy continues in here. Through fear, intimidation, wrath and torture.

I grab the keys off the peg by the door then stride to the nearest cell. The iron bars are impossible to escape. Many tried and failed. There are chains attached on the walls, but I don't think those are necessary with her. Maybe just not yet.

I put her down and watch as tears stream down her cheeks wildly. She clutches on my jacket. "I will freak out. Sergio, please… please don't do this to me."

So damn dramatic.

I shake her off and step back, making my intentions clear. A capo doesn't change an order once made. We don't show remorse, mercy or weakness. That is how I gain the upper hand with Ivanna. She will cease to be stubborn and fall in line.

I step out and swing the heavy cell door shut before she can slip out. She runs after me but only manages to clutch on the iron bars. "Please, Sir. I'll do whatever you want. I'll be good. Don't lock me in here."

Her words make my pants tight as I imagine her being very good for me.

There has to be a special circle in hell for a man who has lewd thoughts of his son's bride to be.

I snap the lock shut with a furious twist of my wrist. We might have gone high tech above the ground but down here, medieval works just perfect. "Maybe this will show you who's in charge around here, malishka."

She shakes the iron bars with a pained cry for a short moment then I reconsider, something that startles me because I never reconsider.

Then I remember that a capo never shows weakness.

Growing up, my father drilled that into me and made sure that it was burned in the bind parts of my brain. It is in our blood, our history, the Bratva. We don't bend.

Which means there is no mercy, even for Ivanna.

I spin and head for the exit. "Enjoy your stay, Ivanna."

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