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Jess lashes out, her frustration manifesting in physical blows against my chest. “You bastard,” she sears through gritted teeth. “How could you?”
“Nothing will happen to her,” I assure, my grip on her wrists steady, a misguided attempt at reassurance.
Her fury, though, is laced with fear—a fear I recognize all too well. “You’re a monster,” she accuses, her eyes a tumultuous sea of emotion.
The label doesn’t sting as it should; I’ve been called worse. But it’s not about what I am called; it’s about the actions that earn such titles. “Believe what you will,” I counter. “But your safety is not up for negotiation. Garibaldi’s vendetta is relentless. This isn’t about control; it’s about survival.”
Guiding her back to the mansion, a silent vow forms within me—to not repeat the mistakes of my past. My sister’s loss, a wound that never fully healed, serves as a stark reminder of the cost of control without understanding.
Once inside, the order leaves my lips before I can halt it. “Face the wall, hands on your head.” It’s a command, a display of authority I deem necessary for her protection, yet the irony isn’t lost on me. I’m doing exactly what I promised I’d never do again—enforcing obedience without consent.
She looks like she might defy me but then she sees my cold dead eyes. With a slump of her shoulders, she does as I say.
I reach around her waist. “What are you doing?” she asks, looking down at my hand.
“Not another word,” I reply. “And for the record, I’m teaching you what happens when you disobey me.”
I undo the button holding up her pants, sliding them down her hips, taking her panties with them. Once they’re around her ankles, I remove her jacket, leaving her in just her tee-shirt.
I step back, admiring my handiwork. “Don’t move,” I growl, sitting behind my desk, staring at her naked legs, the hint of her ass on display below her tee-shirt. “You will remain in that position for ten minutes.”
There’s a part of me, dark and commanding, that takes satisfaction in her obedience, but it’s overshadowed by a deeper, more consuming desire. I want her, more intensely than I’ve wanted anything ever.
As the minutes tick by, a silent battle rages within me. I’m torn between wanting to fuck her and needing to teach her to obey.
When the time is finally up, I can’t help but feel a twinge of regret.
Her expression hardens as she looks my way. “Can I pull my pants up yet?”
“Answer one question first.”
“What question?”
“Is your pussy wet?”
NINE
Jess
I muster all the defiance I can, even in my compromised position. “No,” I state firmly. “And I didn’t say you could touch me.”
His response, a simple “Good girl,” strangely warms me from within, despite my resolve to resist him. “You ran, even though you’ve admitted being in love with me,” he observes, not as an accusation, but as if trying to understand.
“You heard that?” My voice is a mere whisper, a mix of embarrassment and surprise.
“I hear more than you think. But tell me, what’s so frightening about falling in love?”
“Sure, you might have been in love dozens of times but this is all new to me. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
“For the record, I’ve never been in love either but the only thing that frightens me is the idea of you getting hurt. You can’t keep running. You’re only safe with me. That’s why we must get married.”
“I’m scared,” I admit finally, the words barely above a whisper. “Scared of losing myself to you. If we get married, it’s so final. I’m on the edge of a cliff, Alessandro. Any moment I might fall and I’ve no idea what’s waiting for me at the bottom.”
“Me,” he replies, taking a step closer. His presence invades me in a way that both comforts and intimidates. “I understand your fear,” he continues softly, making me look up into his eyes.
“My intentions aren’t to control or harm you, Jess. I want to see you grow, help you heal from the scars of your past. It’s about protection, about ensuring your freedom, not stripping it away. But it requires trust. Can you try to trust me?”
“You can’t just manipulate people’s lives for their supposed ‘protection.’”
