Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Elnora watched as Mason stepped closer, his presence commanding the space between them.

He gently cupped her chin, and his breath was warm against her skin. “Your priorities are misplaced, El,” Mason huffed. “You know, mixing business and pleasure is dangerous.”

“Doesn’t the mafia thrive on danger?” she asked. His lips curved into a playful smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

Of course, he would say that. Self-assured and dripping with arrogance, Mason carried himself like a man who knew he was untouchable. He oozed confidence that bordered on a God complex, and it wasn’t hard to see why. He wasn’t just another big player in the Castelli family—he outranked Antonio, making him far more dangerous and, annoyingly, more attractive.

Octavia and her people were convinced Antonio was the official consigliere of the Italian mafia, but Elnora knew better. Antonio was one of Anton’s lieutenants and his personal enforcer, but Mason? He was the true power behind the throne, a fact Octavia had yet to grasp.

That was why Octavia was so obsessed with nailing Antonio.

Elnora hadn’t exactly laid all her cards on the table with Mason. She hadn’t mentioned how well acquainted she was with Octavia, and she certainly hadn’t disclosed the details of that relationship. To Mason, she was just another hacker—valuable, but expendable. Octavia, on the other hand, kept Neon Cybersecurity on retainer with the bureau. And while Elnora didn’t officially work for the bureau, she had a front-row seat to the messes they tried to clean up, thanks to Octavia’s endless venting about work.

As she straightened up, ruffling her hair to buy a moment to think, Elnora met Mason’s gaze head-on. She didn’t have any direct business with the Mafia—her world revolved around code, data, and the dark web—but the new management intrigued her. Everything about the Mafia was more secretive than ever before. She knew the key players, the top-ranking lieutenants, and even heard whispers about Anton, the elusive, faceless Don. But Mason? He was a ghost, a shadow lurking in the background, and that made her very curious.

Elnora shrugged off her worries for the moment. Her current predicament with Mason was more than enough to keep her occupied. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be trapped here with him, but a small part of her was looking forward to it, though she would never admit it. She let herself get lost in his green eyes for a moment, her gaze drifting to his lips, wondering why she wasn’t as scared of him as she had been.

Well, she mused, he wouldn’t hurt her if he needed that network. That was her leverage. And then there was the undeniable fact that he was as into her as she was into him.

“May I call my mum, just to let her know I’m well? She’ll die from overthinking,” she asked, testing the boundaries of his control over her.

Mason tucked his hands into his pockets, his sharp green eyes locking onto hers with a calm, unbothered ease that both irritated and intrigued her.

“This isn’t a resort getaway, El,” he said with a detached tone. “I’ll make sure she gets the information she needs. But no contact with the outside world while you’re on these grounds, and working on my network.”

Elnora bit her bottom lip, her mind working. The idea of the mafia being around her mother made her stomach churn. Any harm that came to her mum would be on her conscience, and no one else’s. She forced an anxious smile and brushed her hair out of her face, trying to keep her composure. And then there was the fact that she had texted Marcy earlier. If Marcy was the Priest… the thought was absurd, but it lingered in the back of her mind. If she was, she would have pinged Elnora’s location by now.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt your mother. Why do you think the worst of me?” Mason asked, his voice carrying an unapologetic calmness that grated on her nerves.

Elnora chuckled dryly, ignoring how he read her mind. “Because you’re part of the Mafia.”

He shrugged. “And you think everyone in the mafia is the devil?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly join to sing kumbaya around a campfire, did you?”

He laughed, a deep, sweet sound that almost made her smile. “We’ll take care of your mother. You belong to me now, which means you belong to the Castelli family. And we always protect our own.”

“Would you not speak of me like that?” Her jaw clenched as she glared at him, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

“Like what?” he asked, untucking his hands as he stepped closer. “You’d prefer if I didn’t speak the facts?”

Elnora’s fists tightened at her sides. “I’m not an object, Mason. It’s incredibly insensitive to treat me like some piece of property you can claim.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing with a sharp focus that sent a chill down her spine. “And yet, here you are, bargaining your freedom for a network. In my world, everything is a transaction, and everyone is a pawn.”

Her brows knitted together, as his words sank in. If it were anyone else—someone without ties to the Mafia or Antonio—she might have taken her chances and run. But Mason was different. She wasn’t just wary of him—she was unsettled by how seamlessly he had slipped under the radar. In a digital world where everyone left a trace, Mason was a ghost. And that made him the most dangerous kind of man.

“Odd,” he said. “Here I thought you were about to ravish me against my will.” He held her face and she couldn’t help the sharp inhale that escaped her lips, nor the smirk that followed.

“There’s no need to fret, Mason. My men come willingly,” she whispered, testing the waters of this dangerous game they were playing.

His eyes twinkled with amusement as he pulled her closer, his lips brushing against hers in a way that promised more than just a kiss. “You don’t say.”

A shudder of unease rippled through her chest, but she clenched her teeth, refusing to let him see her falter. He was undeniably gorgeous, and the danger lurking beneath his calm exterior only fuelled her desire for him—a desire she both loathed and craved.

Mason’s smile widened, as if he could sense the wheels turning in her head. “What’s on your mind, El?” His voice was smooth, teasing. He continued to call her ‘El’ as if they were old lovers, as if he knew her every thought, and she both hated and enjoyed it.

She met his gaze without flinching. “Just trying to figure you out,” she replied coolly. “You’re a mystery, Mason. And mysteries don’t sit well with me.”

“Mysteries are meant to be solved, aren’t they?” he mused, his head tilting slightly again as if considering her. “Be careful, though. Sometimes, the answers you find aren’t the ones you want.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Have fun while you’re at it,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Answer me this—” she started, but he cut her off before she could finish.

“No,” he said flatly, stepping around her with a fluid grace that left her momentarily stunned. He was out of the bedroom in the blink of an eye, leaving her standing alone with lingering jitters.

Elnora snapped out of her daze and hurried after him, catching up with him in the hallway. “Mason—”

He stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “I don’t mix business and pleasure, El. Truly. Now, I have things to take care of. I’ll have someone with you shortly to handle your wardrobe needs. She’ll take care of you.” His eyes flicked over her, a brief, appraising glance, before he turned and headed towards the stairs at the end of the hallway.

A Female Colleague?

As Elnora stared after Mason, the word echoed in her mind. What kind of woman did Mason consider a colleague? A criminal, no doubt. Then she caught herself, hissing at her own judgmental thoughts. Who was she to cast stones? Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and she was no exception. She’d done some unsavoury things on the deep web, things she didn’t particularly care to revisit. She wasn’t in any position to judge anyone.

She turned and walked back to the guest room, shutting the door behind her with a thud. The sound echoed through the room, and as the silence settled in, she became acutely aware of her pounding heart. The events of the evening replayed in her mind like a broken record, each memory sharper, more vivid, as the reality of her situation began to sink in.

Leaning against the door, Elnora panted, trying desperately to slow her ragged breaths. Mason needed her alive—at least until she finished building the network. But the thought of what might happen after… that sent a chill down her spine. He was part of the freaking Mafia, after all, no matter how sweet he might seem on her.

“This isn’t happening,” she whispered to herself, the words barely audible.

She needed her phone. Even if Marcy was untrustworthy—though she still clung to the belief that wasn’t true—she might be able to reach Octavia. There was a small chance, but it was better than nothing. Elnora opened the door quietly, tiptoeing down the hallway toward the stairs. She moved slowly, making barely a sound, her bare feet gliding over the cold floor.

As she approached the parlour, she glanced around cautiously, her eyes scanning for any sign of her purse. After a few tense moments of searching, she raked her hands through her hair with an exasperated sigh.

“Looking for this?”

Elnora nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around toward the den, where a man sat casually, waving her purse with a wicked smile. Antonio.

“And who the hell are you?” he asked, his tone dripping with hostility as he set her purse on the counter and rose to walk toward her.

Her pulse quickened, each beat drumming in her ears. Antonio was only inches away now, and unlike Mason, his accent was thick. Her gaze swept over him—a well-tailored black suit clung to his broad frame, and he carried himself with a charisma that was unnervingly similar to Mason’s. His black hair hung over his left eye, an attempt to conceal the scar that marred his face. His good eye was a fine shade of brown, but the other, the one clouded by the injury, was a pale, haunting grey.

Elnora took an involuntary step back, her breath catching in her throat. Antonio was intimidating in a way that Mason wasn’t—a raw edge of menace lurked beneath his smooth exterior. He wasn’t just a part of this world; he was born of it, shaped by it, molded into something ruthless and cold-blooded.

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to stare?” Antonio’s presence was suffocating, dangerous. His voice was a low growl as he loomed over her, and she caught her breath as he closed the distance between them.

Against her better judgment, she asked, “What happened to your eye?” Of course, she already knew everything about him. The scar was infamous, a badge of his violent history.

Antonio’s gaze flicked over her, amusement dancing in his eyes. He adjusted the sleeves of his jacket with a nonchalance that sent a shiver down her spine. “Knife fight,” he said, chuckling darkly. “You should see the other guy.” His eyes swept over her again, lingering with a leer that made her swallow hard. “You don’t look like the kind of woman who falls in with the likes of us. So, tell me, what are you really doing here?”

“I’m Elnora. Mason’s… guest.” Elnora coughed to clear the tightness in her throat, folding her arms defensively.

His expression darkened, and she instinctively took another step back. “Guest?” Antonio’s laugh was sharp, almost mocking. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“What else would I be?”

His lips curled into a sneer, his fine Italian accent dripping with disdain. “One of his whores.”

Elnora’s eyes flashed with anger. “I have half a mind to gouge out your good eye, prick.”

Antonio’s laughter was deep and mocking, a sound that made her fists clench at her sides. The audacity of this man, calling her a whore, fuelled a surge of anger. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly to calm herself. She knew what he was capable of, and engaging in a battle of wits—or fists—with him wasn’t the smartest move. Her priority was getting away from him, not provoking him further.

“Sit,” he ordered, waving a dismissive hand. “M will be here shortly.”

She frowned, trying to keep her voice steady. “Mason knows I’m here,” she argued, desperately wanting to avoid Mason learning she had attempted to retrieve her phone. “I’ll return to the guest room.”

She moved to step around him, but Antonio blocked her path with unsettling ease, leaning closer until she could feel the heat radiating from him. Elnora swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold his unwavering gaze, though every instinct screamed at her to run.

Antonio’s hand shot out, gripping her arm with a force that sent a jolt of fear through her. His scarred eye bore into hers, a twisted mix of curiosity and cruelty.

“I. Said. Sit.” Antonio snarled, throwing her onto the couch with a force that knocked the wind out of her. “Now sit and wait like a good little guest.”

Elnora’s breath hitched as she tried to recover, massaging the sharp pain radiating through her arm. Antonio’s dark eyes bore into her as he perched himself on the armrest next to her, too close for comfort. When she tried to inch away, his hand clamped down on her shoulder with a grip that sent a jolt of pain shooting down her spine. She groaned in agony, the crushing pressure making it impossible to move. He leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he inhaled deeply, his face buried in her hair.

A sickening realization hit her—this was the Antonio she’d heard about, the one with a reputation for brutality, especially toward women. A fresh wave of fear coursed through her veins, paralysing her.

Then, like a storm breaking, Mason strode back into the parlour, flanked by four men, two of whom were armed with automatic weapons. His eyes swept the room, moving from Antonio to her, then back to Antonio. Without a word, he snapped his fingers, a silent command for Antonio to get up. Antonio’s grip on her shoulder loosened, and he stood, stepping away from her.

Elnora exhaled a shaky breath, clutching her shoulder as a cold fury bubbled beneath her fear. If only she had the means to kill him right then and there.

“M,” Antonio said with a smirk, walking over to Mason. He threw a glance back at Elnora, his grin widening. “Beautiful little thing, boss.”

Mason barely acknowledged the comment. Instead, he turned to one of the armed men beside him, who handed him a pistol. Before Elnora could even process what was happening, Mason fired.

The shot rang out, deafening in the confined space. Antonio staggered back, clutching his shoulder as blood seeped through his fingers. Elnora watched, wide-eyed, as Mason grabbed Antonio by the nape of his neck, pulling him close until their foreheads touched.

“You don’t touch her. You don’t even breathe the same air as her. Am I clear?” Mason’s voice was low, laced with a venom that sent shivers down Elnora’s spine.

Antonio’s face contorted with pain and shock as he stared at Mason, who drilled his furious gaze into Antonio’s. Slowly, Antonio nodded, his arrogance melting away into a pitiful bow.

“Yes, boss,” Antonio said.

~Boss?~

Elnora’s mind reeled. A consigliere would only call one person “boss,” and that was the don. What the hell was going on?

“Good,” Mason said, his tone cold as ice. “Now go clean yourself up and stop bleeding all over my floor.” He handed the pistol back to the man beside him, who quickly took it as Antonio stumbled out of the parlour, his hand still pressed to the wound.

Mason turned to the remaining men. “Settle in. I’ll be there in a moment,” he instructed.

The men nodded and hurried out, leaving Mason alone with Elnora. She jumped to her feet as his piercing gaze locked onto her.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, with a dangerous tone that promised trouble if she didn’t answer.

Elnora’s mind raced, but she couldn’t form a coherent excuse. She was shaken by what happened, and the realization of who Mason was made it even harder. Staring at him, she realized how powerful and terrifying he was. She had been so wrong about how he was.