I sit on the chair to her left, not bothering to wait for her response as I begin to fill her plate with a little bit of everything—eggs, pancakes, charcuterie, fruit.A feast, as it should be.
Before I can get far, she snatches the plate from my hand with a scowl.
“Stop,” she mutters, looking at the pile of food like it’s a mountain she has no hope of conquering.“It’s too much.I can’t possibly eat all this.”
I shake my head.“Eat up,” I rasp, my voice low and firm, tinged with something darker.“You’re way too thin.”She snorts in disbelief but starts digging in, fork in hand.And as she does, I find myself watching her, transfixed.There’s something so…satisfying about it.It’s the primal part of me, the part that wants to claim every inch of her, that wants to watch her consume what I’ve provided.The caveman in me wants to pound his chest in satisfaction.
My nostrils flare and the scent of her, sweet, intoxicating like vanilla and cherry blossoms, hits me hard.I can’t help but breathe her in, making a mental note to stockpile that goddamn body wash she favors.Maybe I should just buy the whole fucking factory, so she never runs out.I’ll ensure that—
The thought is cut off when I lean in to pour her a glass of freshly pressed orange juice, my eyes drifting to her throat.The collar of the shirt she’s wearing has fallen slightly open, and I freeze, staring.A dark, blooming mark—my mark—is visible on her collarbone.
A possessive fire erupts in me, and I can’t resist the pull.Slowly, almost reverently, I reach over and push the collar of the shirt farther to the side.I trace the hickey’s outline with my finger, almost groaning from the possessiveness it ignites in my gut, my touch gentle but laden with something dangerous.The sight of her wearing my mark, clad in my shirt, sets something ablaze deep in my chest.My mouth goes dry.Mine.
From now on, she’ll wear one of my shirts every damn day, whether she likes it or not.Even if I have to force her.
Her body is mine to mark, mine to claim, and I’m not about to let her forget it.I look up into her eyes.They are hooded and her breath comes in short, shallow gasps, her lips slightly parted as she watches me with a mix of defiance and something darker.Something that’s starting to crack under the surface.Heat radiates between us, thick and electric.Without thinking, I lean in, my lips mere inches from hers.Her breath stirs against my skin and I close the distance, finally tasting her.She tastes sweet, like orange and strawberries, an intoxicating blend that I can’t get enough of.I gently stroke her tongue with mine, and her body responds, soft and eager under my touch.She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t fight me.And it makes me want more, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.I’m getting harder by the second, my control slipping a little more.I could devour her right here, right now.
My hands itch to pull her closer, to claim her fully.
But I have matters to take care of and I reluctantly lean back.
“I will be away for a few hours.Teo will bring your bag and a personal shopper will bring you more clothes.”My voice sounds gruff but I am not the only one to be visibly affected by our kiss.Her pupils are blown and she clearly struggles to regain composure.
“Does that mean that I will have to stay here?”
I frown at her and nod.Of course, where else would she go?
She sighs.“Look, I don’t need new clothes.Why don’t we go to Father’s house and I can pack some more clothes for my…stay?”
“We can go get the things you want this weekend.You don’t need to pack your clothes, though.I will buy you a wardrobe fit for a queen, and that is nonnegotiable.”
She merely shrugs and starts eating again while I watch her in silence.Her face is so expressive I can read every thought that goes through her mind, and right now she is planning to escape again.I smirk.
Game on, little flower.
Chapter Eighteen
Lily
A queen my ass!I am a prisoner—his whore, as he so elegantly put it.
I have to bide my time and escape as soon as I get an opportunity.I hoped that he would let me leave in the morning but no luck so far.If anything, he looks like he doesn’t want to let me out of his sight.I have to push harder.
Letting him kiss me was a mistake.I was dazed, too caught off guard to resist, but not anymore.I can’t afford to be weak.
Get a grip.
After brunch, Damiano brings me back to my cell…er, room and I go to the bathroom and snoop around, finding packed toothbrushes and toothpaste as well as my favorite brands of cosmetics.
I have to admit, this man is a grade-A stalker.It’s scary but still impressive.I can’t help but shudder at the thought.He knows me, knows my habits, my preferences.That’s not just control—it is downright obsession.
When I’ve finished brushing my teeth and step out of the bathroom, I find my bag sitting on the bed.
Eagerly, I pull out my burner phone and check the messages.There are several from Erin from last night—one telling me she’s home safe, another asking for updates.I quickly type a reply, reassuring her that I’m fine, all things considered, and hit send.But the message doesn’t leave my outbox.I frown, my heart sinking.
Damiano must have found a way to block my outgoing texts.I try calling her instead, but there’s no signal.My stomach drops further.
Shit.I am locked in, and Damiano has thought of everything.
