The Don's Rebel Pet

I was a slum kid who fell for Damon Vitale, New York’s most feared Godfather.

For five years, I was his. I took nine bullets for him.

He’d kiss my scars as I bled out for him. Hold me close. Clasp the queen’s necklace around my throat.

Then, once I healed, he’d fuck me senseless, with a passion that felt like forever.

I thought we’d spend our lives together. I thought he would marry me.

But on our 999th night together, he told me he was engaged. To Bianca, a mafia princess from a rival family.

I swallowed my tears. He just grabbed my chin, blew smoke in my face, and laughed.

"You didn't really think you could marry me, did you, Nora? Let's be clear. We fuck. That's it. You're not a partner. You're a piece of art I collect. A pet I own."

A pet. That’s all he ever wanted for me.

Instead, I picked up a burner phone.

[I'm taking your offer. Three days. Get me the hell out of New York.]

I’ve slept with the most feared man in New York for five years. 999 times. But tonight, he tells me I'm just a tool. And my next task is to pick out a welcome gift for his fiancée.

Half an hour ago, Damon showed up at my apartment.

Just like every other night for the past five years, he showered, then came to me with that familiar hunger, slamming me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Manhattan a blur below.

"I want you, Nora."

I lost myself in his hungry kisses and rough thrusts.

He still smelled like blood, even after his shower. I knew he’d just put down a traitor in the family.

I didn't care.

He was a monster, the king of New York’s underworld. And he was my only religion.

In the dim light, his fingers found the raised scar on my shoulder.

I got it saving him from flying glass in an explosion.

"Does it still hurt?" he whispered, kissing the scar.

"Not anymore, Damon… For you, it was worth it…" I gasped his name between broken breaths.

I used to think this was a fairytale. I was a nobody, an orphan with her nose in a book. He made me his confidante. His weapon. His prize.

If I could just marry him… I’d be in heaven.

Just as I thought that, he pulled out of me with a final shudder.

"I came to tell you there's a family dinner next week," he said, blowing a smoke ring. His eyes watched me through the haze.

My heart skipped a beat.

Was this his invitation?

Maybe he was finally ready. He fucked me with a different kind of hunger tonight, raw and all-consuming tonight.

"I'll be ready, Damon." I went to get his shirt. "Do you need me to brief you on the West Coast shipments? Or…"

"No."

He cut me off. His voice was ice.

"Bianca will be there. It's