I Kidnapped The Mafia Don, Tied Him To My Bed Chapter 01

I Kidnapped The Mafia Don, Tied Him To My Bed Chapter 01

I’d been crushing on Caspian Ferretti for ten years.

Never had the guts to tell him.

Until they diagnosed me with terminal brain cancer.

So I tied him up.

And slept with him. Over and over.

His eyes were bloodshot as he struggled. “Zoya Carter! Untie me if you’ve got any guts.”

I thought he’d strangle me once I let him go.

Instead, he took every inch of me, relentless, day and night. “Zoya. Do I look weak to you? You drugged me?”

…

I’d been crushing on Caspian for ten years.

He wasn’t some regular guy next door. He was the sole heir to the Ferretti family. Later became the most feared mafia Don in the city.

I watched him grow from a teenager into something cold. Dangerous. The kind of presence that made everyone back away.

And I was obsessed.

I never said a word.

If he rejected me, we’d be finished. Worse, I might not survive it.

Until ten days ago, when I collapsed at work and woke up in a hospital.

The doctor looked at me with pity. “Terminal brain cancer. Too late. No treatment value.”

I couldn’t just die like that.

I hadn’t traveled the world. I hadn’t slept with Caspian Ferretti.

I was dying anyway. What was one crazy thing on the bucket list?

I called Caspian. Asked him to dinner at my place.

Except it wasn’t my empty house. It was a secret apartment in his name. He used it for deals the family didn’t need to know about.

I’d set up the security system. Still remembered the code.

He was busy. The Ferretti family ran dozens of operations through his hands daily. But he agreed to swing by later.

Caspian showed up worn out. Wearing a black cashmere coat, the Ferretti family silver pin at his collar.

Cold air clung to him.

And blood.

I found out later I’d called while he was handling a traitor.

Flew all day. Walked straight into my trap.

I almost felt bad.

I tried to make an excuse to send him away. But he walked straight to the dining table and sat down. Gray eyes swept the dishes. Landed on my face.

“You cooked?”

I said nothing.

He picked up the spoon. Tasted the mushroom soup.

Raised a brow. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Skills improved.”

Thanks. But the kitchen also held the wine I’d spiked with sleeping pills.

I watched him sit there. Take a sip of red wine. He set the glass down. Pressed his temples. “Zoya. What did you put in the wine?”

I bit my lip. “You tired? Need to rest?”

He stared at me for a few seconds. That look sent ice down my spine.

The look the Don gave traitors.

But finally, he just nodded. “A little dizzy.”

“Then go rest.”

We’d known each other for years. No walls between us. More importantly, he’d never seen me as a threat.

Some crying little girl. What danger could I be?

He followed me to the master bedroom like a lamb.