˗ˋˏ YOUR HEART IN A BOX BESIDE ME ˎˊ˗
⊹ ࣪ ˖chapter 1: where the devil has his horns
⸻A WORD OF CAUTION mafia boss!lando norris x fem leclerc mafia!reader, 2,8k words, kidnapping, guns, mentions of blood and scars, conflicts and sensitive topics
MASTERLIST
something cold and wet. the feeling of rain, so merciless. it was pouring down. a storm that had been brewing in the distance for a while now. thunder and lightning weren’t enough. no. even if the ground decided to split open at this point, ready to swallow the entire scene whole in an attempt to forgive and forget the grave mistake you made, the one that started this long list of shame, not even that would be enough.
shaky breath, clammy fingers gripping the edges of the hardwood chair. at least you think it’s a chair. you're in a sitting position and it hurts. everything stings. the dull headache and the ringing in your ears makes you wonder if you died and happened to remember how pain feels. it’s a struggle to open your eyes. it’s a struggle to move. it’s almost like you're… tied? feet so firm on the ground you can not recall sitting down here. in fact, you can not recall anything that has happened in the past few hours.
a shiver lays itself like a nasty cold on your bare legs and you try to pull them together. you remember wearing a short dress. why? a sharp tug coming from your ankles won’t let you and you have to come to the conclusion that you are in fact tied to a chair. moving your fingers and squirming your shoulders you manage to finally tear your lids open. the light is too bright, the smell of something dirt and metallic, almost like blood hangs heavy in the air. you are not curious at all to who sat in this chair before you. and who got dragged in here alive and left without knowing they did.
the rough stone walls form a solid basement, consisting of a space that can’t be bigger than a garage. eyes blurry and brain trying to come up with a solution on where you are. how you ended up here, and why it is so bright despite being night.
your wrists are bound tightly on the arms of the flimsy chair with a coarse rope, your ankles secured to the legs, every small movement pulls at your skin, sending sharp twinges up your limbs.
a single light bulb flickers over you when you raise your head and squint your eyes at the impact of its brightness. thunder rolls around, and you can only imagine what is happening outside this windowless room. footsteps echo in the distance, not taking long to find the location of your hosting. the metal door right in front of you opens with a long swing and footsteps are audible.
you could swear that blinking your eyes more than a few times isn't enough. it was like trying to see clear in a dream. trying to run but you ended up having heavy feet in the mud underneath.
the footsteps sound again. cold, measured, calm. then, silence again. a figure steps into the light. tall, broad shoulders, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and changing the smell from fear to respect. black valentino on his feet, fingers covered in memories of past disputes and small scars. but when they reach out to tilt your chin towards its source, it almost feels reverent. like he’s scared he might break you.
he doesn’t say anything at first. fingers cool and firm against your warm sticky skin. he tilts your face again. turning it left and right as if inspecting a rare jewel under gallery lights. the smudged mascara, the trembling lips, the shallow breathing and the sharp sudden intakes of air, that attempt to stay calm contained all in one picture. so fucking beautiful right here in his basement.
a beat passes, then another. he doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. just looks. measures. calculates. and in that silence? the weight of his presence crushes any illusion that this is just an accident. or a random misfortune.
"look at you… what a soft princess… you’re far from home, sweet girl."
it could have fooled you. the voice so familiar even though you couldn’t make out the face to the source of this nightmare. confident, a little cocky, weighed. like it’s simple being was too much to bear. your throat was dry, begging for any kind of liquid and you started to wonder for how long you must have been passed out for.
"where am i…?" the question is a soft hum, lacking of any fight and just genuine confusion, it almost makes him smile in the shadows of his cruelty to how clueless you are to the situation. how clueless you are of who you stumbled into so fucking carelessly.
"where are you?" he repeats then slowly, voice low like velvet. standing up straight, slowly like he’s got all the time, he crosses his arms over his chest. he’s waiting for something. or enjoying this moment too much to rush it. "right where i want you."
a few blinks, squints and tugs on the restrains. you try to rub your eyes but can’t. not that you need it in the next moment. it’s so cold, so deep and so eerie that everything comes down faster than you’d like.
suddenly you make out perfect curls, perfect haircut and sharp blue eyes that can't be mistaken. that can never be mistaken. the significant smirk. it’s not wide. it’s not amused. it’s deliberate, it’s small. just a tiny stretch to get under your skin. tanned skin, dark blue suit and a silver watch that belongs to someone else. there is only one rat in all of monaco who’s all these belong to. and your tone comes out harsh and breathless.
"you…"
the smirk, it immediately widens. confident, cool, made up. "ah… there it is. fire."
your expression darkens immediately and you hate how much the memories from this night come back.
it was just a simple party. it was your friends, rina’s birthday party. a few girls, a few drinks. one club. it was her favorite club. you were lying if you’d say you haven’t been here before. you have, a few times only. but none of these times were you stupid enough to get caught. stupid enough to be there at the same time he was.
a short black dress, sparkly make up, that look. that typical leclerc kind of look that gets under every mans skin. the leclerc girls had a glint to their eyes that one needed to be cautious of. the moment you saw the new bouncer you had a bad feeling already. then his men upstairs in the lounge spotted you, and the bartender pinning you suddenly with a very dangerous glance.
you went to get your coat. then went for a smoke. and then you didn’t go anywhere else. at least not by yourself. one sedative later, two strong arms captured you and there you were in a black mclaren brought to god knows where you are right now.
so before you stood no other than lando norris. heir and head of the norris family. the blood sworn rivals made up of a story that would make even the coldest and most emotionless man gag and choke up. it was never meant to be peaceful, yet you were sharing one country. parted in two it was always a toxic confrontation. some things couldn’t be avoided. others could, yet there was always a need to assert dominance. show who's got a bigger cock. to have more. to take more. to make more. greed and bloodlust were beginner tools for lives like these. but lando…. lando was different. he operated differently. thought differently. was different in being sneaky with his enemies and rivals.
"you don’t come across so mouthy to me right now…" he mocks. lando norris has the nerve to mock you. the leclerc princess. your familys sworn enemy. the man who burned down the warehouse last winter without leaving a single witness alive. the man who has cold blood on his hands and an even colder heart.
"what am i doing here?" you ask impatiently, the ropes suddenly too tight, air running out of your lungs in agitation and nails biting into the wood. you feel like you used up all your luck. you’ve been stupid reckless before, but had god as your witness. not now though. he intentionally decides to leave you in this dusty cold basement all to yourself with a man that would get off on seeing your head hanging from his fingers.
lando pulls another chair from the corner, sitting down with a calm indifference, leaning his elbows on his knees. he watches you struggle for a second and a sick satisfaction is gleaming in his eyes. your annoyance? your impatience? it bores him. tilting his head slightly, unimpressed by your show of defiance.
"i should ask you that, doll? why are you here? in my basement… in my club… in my territory…"
no explanation beyond that. no justification for kidnapping the leclerc daughter in the middle of monaco nightlife. one with zero protection at the time. he’d call you stupid just to watch you struggle a little more… but fact is, he just wanted you. and now that he has you, he’s gonna have fun playing a little. as long as the time allows it. because lando never does anything without having an agenda.
"you have no fucking right kidnapping me… my brothers will come for me," you say, anger simmering just beneath the surface and in your pretty smudged eyes. so beautiful, like a torn painting. meant to be kept safe yet a prey for hungry eyes. having to deal with you would be a horror… that much he always knew. everyone wants a piece of you. dead or alive.
"your brothers?" he repeats with an amused disbelief. but even for that he times this encounter perfectly. "the same brothers who’ve been dodging and avoiding my men for months? the ones hiding behind their father’s name like cowards?"
lando laughs. not a polite chuckle. he doesn’t do polite. not amused. a full, rich, cold laugh that echoes off the concrete walls. sharp and sardonic.
"charles can’t protect you right now. arthur couldn’t save you at the club… and lorenzo? let me not mention him… i’m not afraid of your family."
you blink, but eyes stay unchanged on him. an icy glare. you know he’s not bluffing. never. he is not afraid of anyone. and the least he would be afraid of are your brothers. even though you know he could. he should. they will tear lando apart once they get his hands on him. or at least they’d love to.
"do your brothers know you like to sneak off into enemy territory for fun? or is that like… a fucked up secret that you guys don’t tell each other? i thought i made it clear that i absolutely hate enemies in my territory."
he made it clear. very much so. arthur still has that big scar on his chest. and you’re glad he survived. it happened two months prior yet it feels like it was yesterday. landos name itself is written all over the scar that runs along the space from his heart down to the other side of his stomach. a cruel and immaculate cut.
he remembers that night clearly. his men dragged a nosy arthur right out of the dark alley and up to the boss itself. it always seemed like the brothers intentionally made his life hard. he thought he could sniff around in business that didn’t belong to him, and adding to that, said deal didn’t even hit off. lando was a maniac that day. so mad that he beat up arthur himself, cut him do leave a souvenir. making sure he looked him in the eyes with a stone grip on his jaw. that kind of sadistic.
"you don’t want to start a fucking war again, norris… let me go," you warn, jaw clench and teeth gritted like you physically might explode if you have to look his blissful face one more moment.
you’re not scared, he comes to that conclusion. you’re angry. the mention of arthur, of your family. and here he was, thinking he could believe all the rumors made about you. the useless piece of the family. just pretty, not concerning herself with anything business related. was there actually more to you? did you know more than you’d let on?
"a war?" he asks quietly. "i’ve survived worse than one. but you? you should know better than to sneak out."
"what’s the fucking catch?" you spit. "i’m sure you already teased them… fucking alerted them… you’re too much of a coward to kidnap me like that. you want something in return."
lando doesn’t flinch at the word coward. if anything his smile returns in amusement this time. "smart girl… you’re right. i’m not stupid enough to kidnap you for fun," his voice smooth again, but edged with something sharper now. "no war declarations. no public executions…". a pause. he leans back, pinning you with a look. "i want your families shipping routes."
you huff. an irritated one, stripped of all hilarity. sure.... why doesn’t he asks for free goods instead? "how the fuck do you sleep at night with this amount of delusion? didn’t your daddy tell you how to be realistic in the business?"
the second you mention his father, the air in the room dies. lando freezes, a small crack in the usual confident demeanor and he hates how the roles switch when your lips stretch. could it be the same sort of satisfaction he had just moments prior? maybe you two are not that far apart after all. or maybe he actually underestimated you.
the mention of his father stings and is intentional. his blue eyes go complete flat. not angry yet, but something far worse. a deep quiet fury that hasn’t erupted in years. you’re just trying to get a rise out of him. so no. you won’t have the honor to unfurl it in him. not now. not ever.
his father is not a name you throw around casually unless you want blood spilled over it. and lando is not like other mafia heirs who crumble at the mention of daddy issues. he took over after his old man was arrested. and ever since then that wound has been buried under layers of control and ruthlessness.
"you’ve got such a big fucking mouth for someone in your position" lando drawls, but it doesn’t come out as indifferent as he’d like. And it infuriates the hell out of him. he stands up, slowly and deliberate but it still appears so intentional.
"well, i’m sick of an enemy rat trying to manipulate my families business…" you growl, watching him round your chair and stand behind you. hands bracing themselves on the backrest, not touching you on purpose.
"manipulate? no, i don’t manipulate business… i take it. just like i took half your families ports last year when they underestimated me again. your father still sleeps with a pistol under his pillow because of me." you can hear the cold pride in his words. the kind that comes from absolute certain dominance. you know times have never been this tight since the drama got more suffocating.
"you’re not gonna get shit after everything you pulled," you scoff, shaking your head in strong disbelief. your voice is bitter, laced with doubt and skepticism. this motherfucker always knows a way on how to get whatever he wants.
you can’t even finish the sentence before the heavy metal door slams open. a guy in a suit, shorter and with more stubble than lando, gun in one hand and eyes wide bursts in with an urgency on his face. he doesn’t even bother with consideration for the bosses interrogation, just straight out blurts.
"boss! black ferrari just pulled up outside! the leclerc brothers are here!"
lando tenses, but doesn’t seem surprised. he turns his head to the man, then back to you. and for the first time since this began you see something flash across his eyes. calculation. not panic. but strategy kicking in.
he watches your playful pout, making fun of him despite being literally tied to a chair. "ah shit… is your pride hurt? did my brothers find me too soon?"
’it’s actually pretty late…’ but he won’t give you the contentment of getting under his skin even if it’s just a little. instead, he grabs your chin, pulls his gun with his free hand and holds in on your temple. all in one move, just in the same moment as charles and arthur enter the basement and see you tied to the chair with a gun to your head and a shocked expression on your features.
the guy, aims his weapon at charles. the leclerc brothers having both of theirs right on lando, eyes blown with rage. your face in a firm grip, yanked towards the doorway so both can see. then, both are frozen. terrified that if they move wrong you could potentially die right before their own eyes. but lando only grins.
"made it just in time i see? i wouldn’t wonder if you put a tracker in that sweet skin of hers…"
.☘︎ ݁˖
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