Chapter 5: Wet Dreams

Katarina POV - Still at the Bookstore

"We need to leave. Now."

Selena grabbed her bag, but I was frozen, staring at my phone. Mateo's last message glowed on the screen:

Mateo: If he shows up, don't let him in.

"Kat!" Selena shook my arm. "Did you hear me? We need to go."

"Who is he talking about?" I whispered. "If who shows up?"

"I don't know, but we're not staying here to find out." She pulled me toward the back room. "Come on. We'll lock up and go out the back door."

I glanced at the front window one more time. The red car was back again, parked across the street…

My stomach dropped.

"Selena... the car from this morning. It's back."

She looked, and her face went pale. "Shit. Okay, back door. Right now."

We rushed through the storage room. I grabbed my jacket and bag while Selena fumbled with the keys, locking the register and turning off lights.

"You're staying with me until we figure this out." She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back exit. "Come on."

At Selena's Apartment - That Night

Selena's apartment was small but warm. Safe. Her cat, Miso, immediately curled up on my lap when I sat on the couch.

But I couldn't relax.

Every creak, every car passing outside made my heart jump.

"Here." Selena handed me tea. "Chamomile. It'll help you sleep."

I took it but didn't drink. My eyes kept drifting to the window, to the street below.

Was the red car out there? Watching?

"Kat, talk to me." Selena sat beside me. "What's going on in your head? "

I shook my head. "I don't know. I’m Just confused …I wish i spoke with mateo"

"Have you tried calling Mateo again?"

I checked my phone. Still nothing.

I dialed. Voicemail.

Me: Mateo, please call me back. I'm scared. What's happening?

Delivered. Read.

No response.

"He's ignoring me," I whispered.

Selena squeezed my hand. "Maybe his phone died. Or maybe he's in trouble too."

That thought made it worse.

"Try to get some rest," she said gently. "I'll stay up and keep watch, okay?"

I nodded, but I knew I wouldn't sleep.

I moved to her guest bedroom, crawling under the covers fully clothed. My phone stayed clutched in my hand, waiting for Mateo to call back.

But he didn't.

Around midnight, I heard it.

Knock. Knock.

I froze, heart hammering.

Selena's footsteps in the hallway. Her voice, low and cautious. "Who is it?"

Silence.

Then another knock. Louder this time.

I crept to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against it.

"I said who is it?" Selena's voice was sharper now.

And then I heard it. A voice from the other side of the door—low, smooth, dangerous.

"Open the door, piccola. You ran last time. Now I want you to crawl."

My blood turned to ice.

That voice.

The Don.

He'd found me.

"Selena, don't open it!" I screamed, rushing into the hallway.

She stepped back from the door, eyes wide. "Who the hell is that?"

"The man from the club. The one who..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

The door handle rattled.

"I know you're in there, Katarina," his voice purred through the wood.Selena grabbed her phone. "I'm calling the police."

"Don't." My voice came out barely a whisper. "He's... he's mafia. The police won't help."

The rattling stopped.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then his voice again, softer this time. Almost intimate.

"I'll be back for you, piccola. And next time, you won't have a door to hide behind."

Footsteps retreated down the hallway.

I collapsed against the wall, shaking.

Selena was already at the window, peeking through the curtains. "There's a car leaving. Red.The fancy one we saw outside the bookstore."

He'd found me.

And he'd be back.

That Night - The Dream

I didn't think I'd sleep. But exhaustion pulled me under like a riptide.

And then I was somewhere else.

A marble hallway. White floors. Endless mirrors reflecting my naked body from every angle. No exits. The air smelled like blood and roses.

My reflection stared back at me—flushed cheeks, bruised lips, thighs slick with arousal I couldn't explain.

I was trembling, but not from fear.

From want.

Then he stepped from the shadows.

The Don.

His shirt was half-open, revealing a chest carved from muscle and danger. His belt hung in his hand like a promise. Those emerald eyes pinned me in place, and I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

"I told you," he said, voice rough like broken stone. "Run, and I'll break you."

I didn't run.

He was on me in two strides, pressing me hard against the mirrored wall. One hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. The other wrapped around my throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to control.

"You liked kneeling for me, didn't you?"

I wanted to lie. Wanted to say no.

But my body betrayed me. My lips parted. My legs trembled.

"Yes," I whispered.

He smiled—cruel and gorgeous.

Then he shoved me down to my knees.

"Show me how much."

I opened my mouth without hesitation, tongue out like I was starved. His cock was already hard, heavy, flushed dark at the tip. I took him deep, swallowing around him, tears slipping from my eyes as he hit the back of my throat.

"That's it," he groaned, fingers tightening in my hair. "My filthy girl. My obedient little mouth."

I sucked harder, faster, desperate to please him. He dragged me up before I could finish, spinning me around and bending me over a glass table that hadn't been there seconds ago.

My reflection stared up at me—eyes wide, lips swollen, need dripping down my thighs.

"You're wet for me," he said, dragging two fingers through my folds. "Disgusting."

I whimpered.

He didn't give me time to breathe.

He thrust inside me in one brutal stroke—no warning, no mercy—and I shattered.

"This is mine now," he growled, pounding into me. "Your body. Your mouth. Your screams. All mine."

His hand clamped over my mouth as I came, crying against the glass, legs buckling beneath him.

"You love being used," he snarled. "Say it."

"I love it," I gasped. "I love it. I love you."

He didn't stop.

He fucked me harder, dragging orgasm after orgasm from my trembling body until I couldn't tell if I was begging for more or for mercy.

And then he kissed my shoulder.

"Next time, piccola... I'll leave marks they can't hide."

I came with a sob, body convulsing.

I jolted awake, drenched in sweat, my thighs sticky, my heart racing.

I clutched the blanket, burying my face in it as shame flooded me.

What is wrong with me?

I was wet. Aching. And I could still feel his breath on my skin.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream.

But I couldn't forget the way it felt.

I covered my mouth with both hands, terrified the moan still caught in my throat would escape and wake Selena.

The Next Morning - Back at My Apartment

"I just need to grab some clothes," I told Selena the next morning before leaving her house.

I didn't want her to see the mess that was my family.

The second I put my key in the lock of my apartment, I knew something was wrong.

The handle was loose. The lock, scratched and damaged like someone had forced it.

I pushed the door open slowly.

The lights were off, but I could smell it immediately—cheap cologne and stale whiskey.

And then I saw him.

On the couch.

My father.

Passed out, mouth hanging open, arms spread like he owned the place again.

No.

No, no, no.

He'd been gone for three years. Why was he back?

My stomach twisted. I clutched my phone, checking for messages from Mateo.

Still nothing.

Me: He's here. Why didn't you warn me?

I started backing toward the door, my eyes never leaving the man who'd made my childhood a nightmare.

And then his eyes opened.He'd been awake the whole time.

"Where the fuck you think you been, girl?"

My throat went dry. I couldn't move.

"I asked you a question," he slurred, rising slowly to his feet. "You think you can run off and come back whenever you like?"

His voice was lower now. That meant something bad was coming.

"I... I just needed clothes," I stammered. "I wasn't... I didn't mean"

He stepped toward me.

My back hit the door.

"You got no say in anything anymore," he said darkly. "Not after what I did for this family."

My voice shook. "What did you do?"

He smiled.

Reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded paper, tossing it onto the coffee table.

A contract. My name printed at the top. His signature at the bottom. A seal burned into the corner—some kind of symbol I didn't recognize.

"I sold you, Katarina," he said simply. "You're leaving. Tonight."

The room tilted.

"What?"

"You heard me." He lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke in my face. "Giordano's men are coming to pick you up at eight. Pack something nice. He likes his girls pretty."

I stood there, frozen, as my world collapsed around me.