Chapter 3 Decide Her Fate

• Van Dyke’s POV
• The familiar taste of whiskey burned down my throat, that bastard nephew of mine had dragged the wrong girl into my house.
• Wrong or not, she was still a Piccolo. And the moment I heard that cursed name from her lips, my veins turned to fire.
• Piccolo’s bastard she had called herself, how interesting.
• On the monitor, I watched her huddled in the corner of the room where I’d locked her, her knees were pulled up, and her hair fell like a curtain hiding her naked body.
• Her torn dress did nothing to hide those curves that had been ingrained in my mind from the moment I saw her.
• And now, I couldn't get her fucking face out of my mind, the way she had looked earlier. That face… those wide, trembling eyes.
• She wasn’t Martina. Her eyes were wrong, her hair darker, but the shape of her mouth gnawed at me. And I fucking hated seeing the ghost of the woman who betrayed me.
• Maybe Dante hadn't entirely been useless, my lips curled into a cold smile as a new twisted idea took shape in my mind.
• If the Piccolos wanted their little bastard, they’d have to crawl to me on their knees. That traitor Anthony had cost me a huge loss by selling my classified info to the enemy and the stolen shipments had traced back to them.
• Now, even fate was on my fucking side, I would regain the upper hand with that bitch as my prisoner.
• I stubbed out my cigar and dialed, a second later, a familiar voice responded, Nico’s thin, feminine voice which I remembered all too well made me feel like crushing the phone in my hand.
• “I have your sister, so let's strike a deal, return everything you stole from me or… “ I allowed my threat to linger even though hate was making my stomach churn.
• “Which one?” Nico sneered.
• The bastard didn't sound worried or panicked at all, this wasn't how I thought this would go.
• I was hating every fucking moment of his smug voice grating on my ears.
• “Martina, the love of your life is sitting right next to me.” He completed.
• My chest burned with rage at the mention of that slut’s name. I wanted her throat in my hands, wanted to squeeze until her eyes rolled back. I hated her for what she did.
• I still wanted her all the same, fuck help me.
• “The bastard your father bred is with me,” I said coldly staring at my screen, her doeish eyes met mine through the monitor as though she knew I was talking about her.
• The bitch was mouthing words that I couldn't hear.
• I returned my attention to the phone and said, “She’s begging for you to save her, surely you can't be cruel to your blood. Family always comes first, right?”
• Maybe Nico was simply acting tough, trying to pretend that his family didn't care. I’d played this game before, this was a move I had seen many times in my line of business, where the victim’s family played apathy in hopes of letting me lower my guard.
• A second ticked passed, then Nico laughed again, “You think I’d bargain for her? Keep her, Van Dyke. Do what you want. She is a complete virgin and I was going to sell her after I used her anyway. Consider her my gift to you, after all, you killed one of your good men because of me.”
• The line went dead.
• The echo of his mocking laughter still made my skin crawl, my fingers toyed with the edge of my knife, I could imagine slicing out his tongue, then I would feed it to him bit by bit, and after he'd swallowed it, I would cut his stomach open and force him to eat it all over again.
• For a moment, I sat in silence, staring at the phone in my hand. My veins throbbed with hate and anger so intense that it threatened to choke me.
• I needed an outlet or I might just fucking burn to ash from the inside out.
• I stared at my computer screen where the bitch was still crying, how long could the Piccolos pretend not to care about their pretty bastard princess?
• I rose, exiting my study, and made my way to the locked room.
• When I opened the door, she flinched like a fucking scared rabbit, those large doe eyes followed me as I stepped inside.
• “I just talked to your family, It’s quite obvious who the favourite daughter is, isn't it?” I scoffed, slipping another cigarette between my lips, it dangled for a second before I lit it, leaning to her level on the floor.
• “My family won’t agree to your terms,” She spat, her voice trembling, but there was defiance buried in it. Or maybe it was certainty.
• “You see, doll, the problem is that I don't take refusal for an answer, if your family won’t come for you, we just have to make them,” I exhaled a thick cloud of smoke on her face, she coughed and leaned back.
• Her lips… Those fucking lips that reminded me of Martina were pressed tight and shaking with disgust. That mouth…I’d make it break.
• “No, don't touch me! Even if you hurt me, my family won’t come!” She cried suddenly when I grabbed her arm, she struggled, but she was no match against me. In my office, I shoved her down into the large desk, hard enough that it rattled against the floor.
• I leaned down, letting her see the cold smile curling my lips. “Not if they see what I plan to do to you.” I jerked her chin toward the camera blinking above us.
• Her face drained of color, and she opened her mouth to speak but only a sharp scream came when I pressed the knife flat against her throat.
• “Tell me, will your father not care if I carve your skin open right here?”
• I dragged it down, slowly, across her collarbone, then lower, right where the heart was located. Her whole body shook beneath me and I could feel her pulse hammering against the knife.
• “Please,” She whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t hurt me. Please, I'm begging you,”
• The words hit me like liquor pouring down my throat. I hated begging. I always hated it.
• It was pathetic. But hearing it from her? From a Piccolo? My body burned with a cruel sort of pleasure that I could nearly cum from it.
• I pressed the knife harder against her skin until I saw the faintest bead of blood rise. She whimpered but my smile widened.
• “You’ll have to scream even louder, doll, and he’ll watch. Every second of it.” I murmured, dragging the knife lower, over the swell of her breast, across her nipple. I watched in fascination as her pink bud formed into a hard crest.
• A very thin red line blooms in its wake, She whimpers, but doesn’t pull away—smart. She probably thought I was going to slice it off.
• “Please,” She whispered again, her lashes and cheeks were wet with tears, I almost felt pity for her. Almost. But showing mercy to a Piccolo was a betrayal of my own self.
• I gripped her hair, yanking her head back to look at the camera. “Say hello to Daddy.”
• “N-no…” The knife slid between her legs next, the flat of the blade pressing against her torn panties which I ripped off.
• “Please…please don’t”
• I spat into my palm, slicking myself, then dragged the tip of my finger through her folds.
• She was fucking tight.
• I pressed the knife’s point to her clit, circling slowly and she froze.
• “You feel that?” I rasped, leaning over her. “One slip, and you’ll never come again.”
• Her breath came in ragged gasps. The blade teased lower, parting her, the metal kissing her entrance. She screamed when I pushed it in, just a fraction—her body arching off the desk.
• I pulled it free, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I plan to take your virginity with my cock, and not a knife. Now, let’s give your family a show.”
• I wasn't gonna fucking lie, my cock was rigid and heavy in my pants. My blood thrummed with arousal so intense. I couldn't remember the last time I wanted to fuck someone so eagerly like this.
• Was it because she looked so much like Martina or was there something different about her?
• I unzipped my fly and pulled out my engorged cock, she buckled, her tearful eyes dominating her face but I shoved her face-first over my desk, her ass is pale, soft—begging to be marked.
• I slap my cock against it, hard. She jerked, sobbing.
• “Please! Please!”
• “Beg louder, I want to hear you beg me not to destroy you.” I taunted, teasing her entrance. I rubbed my cock over her slit, grunting at the pleasure it shot through me.
• Fuck, I needed to be inside her. I pushed slowly and she screamed again.
• Then her face tilted up. Her eyes caught the dim light of my office, round, brown and shiny with tears. For one breath, they weren't hers.
• They were green. I could suddenly hear her speaking even though her lips didn't move. I could feel the warmth of her hand slipping into mine as her eyes sparkled with affection.
• I love you, Alexander Van Dyke.
• That voice. . .
• My body froze, my lungs locked and even the knife stilled in my hands.
• Martina’s face swam up from the shadows of my mind, her golden hair flashing like sunlight, her lips were curved into that perfect smile she had worn right before she gutted me clean, spitting on everything I gave her.
• “Fuck…” The word tore out between my clenched teeth. I stumbled backwards as unwanted memories assaulted my head.
• The bitch had stopped crying, probably wondering what was wrong with me, but it was Martina’s voice that lingered in my skull.
• I'll never betray you.
• And the bitch had fucking did.
• I would never get close to the Piccolo bitch again.
• I would never forget the humiliation that the Piccolo family once inflicted upon me.
• In an instant, I felt my blood freeze.
• My rod was still hard and hot, but I couldn't care about solving the desire.
• Without looking at that illegitimate girl again, I buckled my belt and turned away, and just slammed the door shut, isolating everything behind me.
• Now, it's time for me to decide the fate of the worthless illegitimate daughter of Piccolo family.