The Mob Queen Wants to Claim Me for Herself (In a Reverse World)

[Adam's POV]

Caterina and I walk out of the shower, steam billowing around us like a foggy morning. Her golden hair is damp, dripping down her back in wet waves as she wraps herself in a towel. My left eye is still swollen and black, a glaring reminder of how I ended up here in this absurdly luxurious hotel suite.

She stands in front of the mirror, drying off with deliberate strokes that somehow manage to be both casual and seductive. Her eyes meet mine in the reflection, a manic smile curling her lips.

"You really like fucking me, don't you?" she says with a teasing twang. "We had to clean ourselves three times."

I feel a pang of regret for giving in so easily, but it was hard not to when she looks like that, like an Amazonian goddess with mafia connections. I try to play it cool.

"Well," I say, pulling on the t-shirt and pajama bottoms she bought for me, "you paid four hundred thousand dollars for me. I gotta give you your money's worth, right?"

She looks at the swelling with a slight frown. "Do you want me to get a doctor to look at it?"

I blink, caught off guard by the concern in her voice. "I don't know," I admit, feeling a bit sheepish. "I've never had a black eye before."

Caterina steps closer, gently gripping my chin and turning my head for a better view. She sighs, a soft sound that carries more weight than I expect.

"Can you see out of it?" she asks, her crimson eyes watching me intently.

I squint a little, wincing at the pressure. The vision doesn't seem too bad, just swollen nearly shut. "Yeah," I say finally. "It's mostly just puffy."

Her fingers linger on my face. She holds my chin in place and kisses the bruised skin. The tenderness of the gesture is so at odds with the violence she inflicted last night.

"There," she murmurs, pulling back slightly to examine her handiwork. "Hopefully, that will help with the swelling."

I say nothing. I'm not sure how to respond to that.

Caterina doesn't seem bothered by my silence. She simply smiles, her crimson eyes gleaming with an emotion I can't quite decipher, before taking my hand and leading me back to the presidential suite bedroom.

The room looks different in the morning light. Less intimidating, somehow. The massive four-poster bed where I was tied up last night has been made, the silk sheets pulled taut, erasing all evidence of what happened there. It's as if the room itself is pretending, along with Caterina, that everything is normal, that this is just an ordinary morning between lovers.

She walks to the closet and pulls out a suit that must have been brought up this morning. It's a deep blue color. She lays it carefully on the bed before slipping off her towel, completely comfortable in her nakedness.

I watch as she dresses, transfixed by the change. Each piece of clothing she puts on seems to add another layer to her persona, not just covering her body but building a formidable woman who commands respect and fear in equal measure. First, the crisp white shirt, then the perfectly tailored pants that hug her curves in all the right places. With each button fastened, each zipper pulled, Caterina the lover recedes, and Caterina the mafia boss emerges. It's like watching Tony Stark slap on the suit.

"Caterina De Luca was able to build this in a cave! With a box of scraps!" I mutter to myself.

"Huh?" She says to me, oblivious to my fire reference.

"Nothing."

"Look, honey," she says as she shrugs into the matching jacket, her voice taking on a more businesslike tone, "I have to go to work, okay?"

Work?" I repeat stupidly. For some reason, I hadn't considered that mob bosses have regular schedules, that they go to 'work' like normal people.

She nods, adjusting her cuffs with meticulous precision. "You can text me if you have any issues. Madison is downstairs, god forbid you need anything."

I stare at her blankly, feeling like I've missed something important. "Wait, I can just... stay here? In the presidential suite?"

Caterina's crimson eyes soften as she looks at me, a smile playing at the corners of her perfect lips. "Of course, darling. This is where we're staying until my penthouse renovated. It should be ready in a couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks?" I repeat, my voice rising slightly in pitch. "We're staying in a hotel for weeks?"

She laughs as if my confusion is somehow endearing. "Adam, I own this hotel. The Luciano is part of the De Luca empire." She says this casually, like mentioning she owns a coffee maker or a toaster, not an entire luxury establishment.

"Oh," I say, the single syllable utterly inadequate to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. "Right. Of course, you do."

Caterina walks over to the dresser, picking up her wallet. The smooth leather glides through her fingers as she opens it with a practiced flick of her wrist. From within, she extracts a sleek black credit card. There's something about the way it gleams that suggests this isn't your average piece of plastic.

She extends it toward me, the card balanced delicately between her long, elegant fingers. "Here," she says casually. "Just charge anything you want, okay?"

I stare at the card, momentarily forgetting to breathe. The black surface is so dark it seems to absorb the light around it, and when I finally take it from her, I'm surprised by its weight. It's heavier than it should be.

"Is it metal?" I ask, turning the card over in my hands with a mixture of awe and confusion.

Caterina smiles indulgently, her crimson eyes dancing with amusement. It's the kind of smile you'd give a child who's just asked if the moon is made of cheese, fond but tinged with gentle condescension.

"Yes, honey, it's a metal credit card," she explains, watching me like I'm a particularly entertaining pet. "Titanium, actually."

"Interesting," I say, pretending I understand.

'Credit cards must just be metal in this world. Wild.'

She steps closer. Before I can process what's happening, her hands are on my waist, pulling me toward her with gentle insistence. I think about pulling away, about maintaining some semblance of dignity or resistance, but her touch ignites something in me that's becoming alarmingly familiar.

At her touch, I already want more. The realization is both annoying and exhilarating. I try to keep my eye on the target, survival. That's what this is about, I remind myself. Getting through this bizarre situation with my sanity intact. Nothing more.

She leans in for a kiss, her crimson eyes closing as her perfect lips approach mine. Despite minimal effort on my part to reciprocate, I give in fast. Too fast. Her mouth captures mine with practiced ease, her tongue teasing and exploring as if she has all the time in the world.

'Dude, I would not make it if Isis kidnapped me in this world.'

It's okay to enjoy these moments, I tell myself as I surrender to the sensation. It's not like I have anything else to ground me. My old life is gone, My new life shattered by Claire's betrayal and Caterina's violent possession. In this new reality, perhaps these fleeting moments of pleasure are all I can hope for.

Her tongue dances with mine, a waltz of passion and possession. Her lips, soft as velvet yet demanding as steel, move against mine with practiced precision. The kiss deepens, her hand sliding up to cradle the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair with just enough pressure to send shivers cascading down my spine.

I melt into her embrace, my body betraying my mind's admittedly weak protests. My hands find her waist, the crisp fabric of her suit jacket smooth beneath my fingertips. I can feel the heat of her skin through the expensive material, calling to me like a siren song.

Her teeth graze my lower lip, a gentle nip that makes me gasp against her mouth. She takes advantage of my parted lips, her tongue delving deeper, claiming every inch of me with a thoroughness that leaves me breathless.

My knees weaken, and I sway slightly, grateful for her steadying grip. A small, embarrassing whimper escapes me when she finally pulls away. Her crimson eyes are dark with desire, her pupils dilated as she gazes at me with an intensity that makes my heart stutter in my chest. She places a finger against my lips.

"Save that for tonight," she purrs, her voice husky with want.

I nod dumbly, still dazed from the kiss, my lips tingling where hers had been moments before.

As she gathers her things, preparing to leave, a thought strikes me. "Am I allowed to hang out with my sister while you're gone?" I ask, my voice smaller than I'd like.

Caterina pauses. Her expression shifts, annoyance flickering across her perfect features like a shadow. The sudden change makes my stomach knot with anxiety, my body tensing instinctively.

'Fuck.'

"Not until your eye has fully healed," she says, her tone brooking no argument.

She smiles wide. "Unless you want to tell her, Claire did it."

I see no reason to stir the pot in such a dramatic way.

"I'll just stay inside today, then," I say with a resigned shrug.

Caterina nods, seemingly pleased with my decision. Her crimson eyes soften slightly, and she steps forward to give me one last quick peck on the lips.

"Be good," she murmurs against my mouth. "I'll be thinking of you all day."

"Bye," I say simply, watching as she turns and strides toward the door, her movement fluid and confident.

She pauses at the threshold, glancing back over her shoulder.

"Goodbye, Adam," she says, and then she's gone, the heavy door clicking shut behind her with a sound of finality that echoes through the empty suite.

*****

A few hours pass, and it's lunchtime. I pocket the titanium credit card, running my thumb over its smooth surface. The weight of it feels strange in my jeans like I'm carrying something illicit.

The black eye throbs dully as I make my way to the elevator, a constant reminder of last night's violence.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing the same car that brought us up yesterday. I step inside and press the button for the lobby. My stomach lurches slightly with the motion, or maybe it's just nerves. I haven't been alone in public since I got this shiner. What if someone recognizes me as Caterina's new toy? What if I do something wrong and it gets back to her?

'Stop it,' I tell myself firmly. 'You're just going to get some food. That's normal. She didn't explicitly forbid it.'

The elevator slows to a stop, and I take a deep breath as the doors slide open, revealing the gleaming marble expanse of the lobby. It's busier now than it was last night, filled with well-dressed businesswomen moving with purpose, hotel staff attending to guests with practiced efficiency.

The elevator doors slide open, and I step into the lavish lobby of The Luciano. The midday sun streams through the massive windows, catching on the crystal chandeliers and sending prismatic rainbows dancing across the marble floors. The space bustles with activity, women in tailored business suits striding purposefully across the lobby, bellhops maneuvering luggage carts with practiced precision, concierges bent toward guests in attentive conversation.

I hesitate at the threshold of the elevator, suddenly feeling exposed. The black eye pulses beneath my gaze as if reminding me of my new status in this world. A man owned. A man marked. My fingers instinctively drift toward my face, hovering near the swollen tissue without quite touching it.

'It's kind of hot being owned, but I'm not going to tell Cat that.'

As I take my first tentative step into the lobby, I spot her immediately. Maddy stands near the entrance, her tall frame perfectly still amidst the flow of movement around her. Her sharp green eyes scan the lobby in a continuous sweep, missing nothing.

Her attention snaps to me the moment I emerge from the elevator. Recognition flashes across her face, followed immediately by surprise. She moves toward me with quick, purposeful strides, weaving through the crowd with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to navigating obstacles.

"What's up? Is everything alright?" Madison asks as she reaches me, her voice low and concerned. Her eyes flicker to my swollen eye and then quickly away as if trying not to stare at the damage her boss inflicted.

She glances around the lobby, her posture subtly shifting to place herself between me and the main entrance.

"I'm feeling hungry," I explain, awkwardly shifting my weight from one foot to the other under her intense scrutiny.

Madison's eyebrows rise slightly. "We have room service, you know. You won't even have to bat an eye."

The moment the words leave her mouth, she winces visibly, her gaze darting to my swollen eye. Horror washes over her features as she realizes her unfortunate choice of words.

"Sorry," she says quickly, looking genuinely mortified.

I can't help it. A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising both of us with its genuine sound. It feels good to laugh, even if it makes my eye throb a little harder.

"No, I think it's great that you're making fun of my eye," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm happy you can appreciate your boss's artwork."

Madison's eyes widen to saucers, her normally composed face transforming into a mask of absolute horror. Her mouth opens and closes several times, resembling a fish suddenly plucked from water and gasping for life on dry land.

"No… I'd never…" she stammers, her voice jumping an octave higher than her usual controlled tone. Her hands fly up in a defensive gesture, palms out as if physically pushing away the very suggestion. "Miss De Luca would…I mean, I would never dream of…"

"Relax," I say, unable to suppress my grin. "I'm just joking with you."

The relief that washes over her face is so palpable it's almost comical. Her shoulders slump forward as she exhales, a breath she must have been holding since I made my comment. She runs a hand through her short, dark hair, disturbing its perfect styling.

"Christ," she mutters, regaining some of her composure, though her voice still trembles slightly. "Don't do that to me, Adam. You have no idea..."

I decide to take pity on her. "The room service food was too weird," I explain, shoving my hands into my pockets. "I just want like a plain cheeseburger or something."

Madison nods quickly, eager to move past the moment of panic. Her professional demeanor slides back into place like a familiar mask, though her eyes still hold a lingering wariness, as if I might suddenly accuse her of something else equally terrifying.

"Yeah, I can get them to make you that," she says, her voice steadier now. She glances toward the elevators, then back to me. "Go back to your room, and I'll bring it to you, okay?"

I can't resist one more little jab. I feign a frown. "Is it because I look like Frankenstein?" I ask, gesturing to my swollen eye with exaggerated dismay.

'Is Frankenstein Jewish?' I can't help but wonder in this moment.

The panic returns instantly, flooding her features like a tidal wave. Her eyes grow impossibly wider, and I swear I can see her pulse throbbing in the vein at her temple. Her hands begin that frantic dance again, gesturing wildly in denial.

"No, no, no, that's not…" she begins, her voice cracking with distress.

"I'm fucking with you, Maddy," I chuckle, shaking my head slightly. "I get it. You actually think i look like Frankenstein's monster."