Relucatanaly Ruined & Owned By The Mafia Novel

The Mask He Never Removed by Ariana Drew 1 Summary In the first chapter of "The Mask He Never Removed" by Ariana Drew, we are introduced to a dark and seductive world within The Crimson Room, a place where women come to relinquish their power and men like Dante Cummiskey thrive. Dante, a figure of authority in Dublin's underworld, is intrigued by a nervous brunette named Lucia, who stands out in her provocative attire and anxious demeanor. As she approaches him, her determination to break free from her sheltered life becomes evident.

Despite her inexperience, Lucia expresses a desire to explore the darker aspects of intimacy, igniting Dante's curiosity and interest. Lucia's internal struggle is palpable as she grapples with her past and the impending loss of her autonomy due to an arranged marriage. She seeks a final night of freedom, a chance to be with someone of her choosing before becoming someone else's property. Dante, recognizing her desperation and raw honesty, offers her a night filled with intensity and submission.

The tension between them builds as he outlines the nature of their encounter, emphasizing that he does not engage in gentle affection but rather in dominance and control. Lucia's willingness to embrace this new experience showcases her desire to break free from societal expectations and explore her own limits. As they arrive at Dante's penthouse, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. Lucia is confronted with the stark reality of Dante's world-one filled with elements that hint at sadism and power dynamics.

Despite her fear and uncertainty, she feels drawn to him, and he commands her to shed her inhibitions, both literally and metaphorically. The act of undressing becomes a pivotal moment for Lucia, exposing her vulnerability while simultaneously empowering her to reclaim her agency for one last night. Dante's reactions to Lucia's innocence reveal a complexity within him, as he is both intrigued and captivated by her virginity and the purity she represents.

The chapter culminates in a powerful exchange, where Lucia articulates her desire to belong to someone she chooses, highlighting her desperation for freedom and connection. Their encounter promises to be transformative, as both characters navigate their desires, fears, and the uncharted territory of their relationship, setting the stage for a night that will change them both forever. Continue Regular Chapter Reading Below **The Mask He Never Removed by Ariana Drew** **CHAPTER 1** The Crimson Room was no sanctuary for innocent little girls.

It thrived as a haven for women who sought to relinquish their power, allowing men like me to peel away their façades alongside their garments. So, what in the hell was she doing here? I leaned casually against the bar, cradling a glass of Jameson, my gaze locked onto the brunette who had been unabashedly eyeing me for the last hour. She sat alone at a secluded corner table, clad in a provocative black dress that I could only imagine was a torment to wear. Everything about her, from her attire to her demeanor, screamed that she was out of place.

I noticed how she nervously fiddled with her purse, her eyes flitting around the room as if she were expecting a bouncer to drag her away for daring to step foot inside. She had been nursing the same vodka tonic since she arrived, the ice long melted, leaving the drink a sad shadow of its former self. "She's been asking about you," Seamus, my bartender and one of my oldest friends, said, polishing a glass with a practiced hand. "She's curious if the rumors are true." "What rumors?" I asked, feigning nonchalance. "That you're the King of Dublin's underworld." He flashed a grin.

"And that you fuck like the devil himself." I couldn't help but chuckle. "And what did you tell her?" "That she should be careful what she wishes for." His expression shifted to something more serious. "She's not one of our usual clientele, boss. She has that look-like she's here to prove something to herself." I scrutinized her more closely. She had striking Italian features, probably in her mid-twenties, with a bone structure that seemed to belong in Renaissance masterpieces. A nervous energy radiated from her, yet there was an undercurrent of determination that mingled with desperation.

A dangerous combination. "She keeps looking at you," Seamus continued, his voice low. "Like she's mustering the courage to do something reckless." As if his words had conjured her, the brunette stood up, smoothed down her dress, and approached me with a deliberate stride. Her hips swayed enticingly, but I noticed the slight tremor in her hands. Whatever she was about to do required every ounce of bravery she possessed. "You're him," she said as she reached me, her accent thick with Italian undertones.

"You're Dante Cummiskey." "Depends on who's asking." I turned fully to face her, and damn, she was even more captivating up close. Her dark eyes reminded me of rich, expensive coffee, her skin was like cream, and her lips looked crafted for sin. "And you are?" "No one important." She lifted her chin, attempting to exude confidence, but her effort faltered. "I heard you... I heard you take women home sometimes." "Sometimes." I kept my tone neutral, but inside, I was intrigued. Most women who approached me in this place were seasoned, fully aware of what they were stepping into.

This one looked like she had never set foot in a room like this before, let alone participated in the activities that transpired within these walls. "What exactly did you hear?" Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, yet she held her ground. "That you're into... things. Dark things." "I am." I stepped closer, watching as she instinctively backed up until her back pressed against the bar. "The question is, mo stór, are you?" "I want to be." Four simple words shifted the entire atmosphere between us.

Despite her evident nerves and inexperience, there was a conviction in her voice that hinted at something deeper. "Do you now?" I reached out, letting my finger trail along her bare arm, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. "And what makes you think you could handle what I do to women in my bed?" "I can handle it." Her voice was stronger now, tinged with determination. "I need to handle it." "Need to?" That was an intriguing choice of words. "And why is that, love?" A flicker of emotion crossed her face-pain, anger, perhaps both.

"Because I'm tired of being good and proper and fucking perfect." The curse word sounded foreign on her tongue, as if she rarely used it. "Tonight, I want to be something else." I studied her, searching for any signs that this was a setup or a game. But all I saw was raw honesty and a desperation that stirred something primal within me. "What's your name?" "Does it matter?" "It does to me." She hesitated, then finally responded, "Lucia." Just Lucia. No last name, no details-an alias that shielded her from identification beyond this moment. Smart girl.

"Well then, Lucia," I said, my voice dropping to that deep, seductive tone that made grown women fall to their knees. "If you come home with me tonight, you need to understand something. I don't do gentle. I don't do sweet. I don't do making love." Her breath hitched, but she didn't retreat. "What I do," I continued, leaning closer until my mouth was mere inches from her ear, "is bondage. I discipline. I possess. I fuck. I push limits until they shatter, and then I push a little further." "I understand." "You do?" I pulled back to meet her gaze.

"Once we leave this place, once I get you alone, I won't be asking you that again. You'll be mine for the night, completely and utterly. Your pleasure, your pain, your very breath-it all belongs to me until morning. And the only thing I'll expect from you in return is submission. Utter fucking submission." She swallowed hard, and I could see her pulse racing in her throat. But when she spoke, her voice was steady. "I want that." Christ, she was going to be the death of me. "Then finish your drink, mo stór," I said, signaling Seamus for the check. "Because we're leaving.

Now." XXX **LUCIA** I'm officially damaged goods. Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Dante's penthouse, and the elevator doors slid open to reveal a space that could only be described as... a monster's lair. Everything in the room was sleek, expensive, and yet... wrong. The sofa appeared ordinary until I noticed the iron cuffs cleverly concealed within the frame. The coffee table gleamed with a polished finish, but its edges were unnaturally sharp, and the compartments were too meticulously disguised.

The paintings gracing the walls weren't mere art; they depicted scenes of blasphemy that would have made even a priest faint at first sight. My throat went dry. "This is..." I struggled to find the right word. "Sadistic." His mouth curved into a knowing smile, as if he had anticipated my reaction. "What did you expect?" "A normal bedroom," I confessed, heat flooding my cheeks. "Who said I'm normal?" I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. What if I had unwittingly stepped into the clutches of a human trafficker?

Then his voice dropped, dark and commanding: "Take off your dress." The words were quiet yet absolute. For a moment, my knees nearly buckled. I wasn't ready. God, I wasn't ready. But what choice did I have? My fingers trembled as I reached behind me, tugging at the zipper. The red silk slid off my shoulders, pooling around my feet. My heart thundered so loudly that it drowned out the silence enveloping us. His eyes devoured me. I wanted to disappear, to shield myself from his gaze, but the only armor I had were my arms, and even those, he wouldn't allow.

"Look at me, Lucia." I raised my head slowly. Shame and fear burned across my cheeks, yet I held his gaze, because running now would mean I'd never escape tomorrow. "You're beautiful," he said softly. And I hated how my chest ached at the sincerity in his voice. Then his tone hardened. "But hiding isn't how this works. Drop your arms." I froze. My arms were the last barrier between me and him. If I lowered them, I'd be exposed in a way no man had ever seen. But slowly, painfully, I let them fall. The air brushed against me like a thousand eyes. My chin quivered, but I didn't look up.

"Better," he murmured, stepping closer. "Why are you really here, Lucia?" he asked, his voice low and probing. The question sliced through me. Why was I here? Because tomorrow, my cage door would slam shut, and I couldn't breathe at the thought? "Because tomorrow my life ends," I whispered. "Dramatic," he replied, though curiosity laced his tone. "What does that mean?" Tears pricked my eyes. "Tomorrow, I'll become someone else's property. A stranger's. I don't even know his name.

And once that ring is on my finger, I'll never belong to myself again." My lips trembled, but I forced the words out. "So tonight, just for tonight... I want to belong to someone I chose." He stared at me for a long moment, then his hands lifted to cradle my face, the heat of them nearly unraveling me. "What's his name?" he demanded. "I don't know." "You don't know?" His eyes flared with intensity. "They haven't told me yet," I admitted, the humiliation nearly cracking my voice. Silence enveloped us. Then his thumb brushed my cheek, his tone dropping to something wicked.

"Then let's make sure your last night of freedom is one you never forget." He spun me toward the glass, pressing me against the window, my reflection mingling with the city glittering below. His hand landed on my hip-firm, claiming. "Have you ever been tied up before, Lucia?" My heart leapt. "N-no." "Has a man ever put his mouth on your cunt?" I shook my head, shame crawling hot across my skin. "Have you ever been fucked so hard you forgot your own name?" "I've... I've never been fucked at all," I whispered, so softly I almost hoped he wouldn't hear. But he did. He stilled behind me.

For the first time, I sensed something almost human in his silence. "You're a virgin?" "Yes." I braced myself for laughter, for mockery, for disgust. Instead, his grip tightened on my hips. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and something else. I swallowed, forcing my chin high. "Virginity is just another kind of perfection, isn't it?" His eyes burned like fire meeting gasoline. "It is, little rabbit. It is." Conclusion As the night unfolded, the weight of Lucia's vulnerability and Dante's dark allure intertwined in a dance of desire and desperation.

Lucia, stripped of her defenses, stood at the precipice of a choice that would define her in ways she could scarcely comprehend. The stark contrast between her longing for freedom and the shadows of her impending fate painted a poignant picture of her emotional turmoil. With every command Dante issued, she felt the chains of her past slowly loosening, yet the fear of the unknown loomed large. In surrendering to this moment, she was not merely seeking pleasure; she was reclaiming her agency, however fleeting it might be.

Dante, too, felt the stirrings of something unexpected as he confronted the innocence before him. His world, built on dominance and control, was challenged by the raw honesty in Lucia's plea for liberation. The realization that he was not just a vessel for her darkest fantasies, but a pivotal figure in her quest for autonomy, ignited a flicker of humanity within him. As they stood together, on the brink of an experience that would forever alter their lives, both were left to grapple with the consequences of their choices.

With Lucia's admission of her virginity hanging in the air, readers can expect a deep dive into her psyche as she grapples with her choices and the implications of surrendering herself to a man like Dante. Will she find the liberation she seeks, or will the weight of her decision crush her spirit? The allure of the unknown will pull her deeper into Dante's world, where pleasure intertwines with pain, and every moment becomes a test of her resolve. Moreover, as Dante reveals more about his dark inclinations, the stakes will rise.

Will he push her limits beyond what she anticipated, or will he uncover the hidden strength within her? The chapter promises to explore the intricate dance of dominance and submission, challenging both characters to confront their deepest fears and desires. Anticipate unexpected twists that will keep readers on the edge of their seats, as Lucia's journey transforms from one of mere curiosity to a battle for her identity amidst the shadows of Dante's tumultuous realm.

As the night unfolds, the question remains: will she emerge as a woman reborn, or will she become another lost soul in the depths of the Crimson Room?