“But I didn’t ask you to—”
“I don’t fucking care.”His voice is steel now.“You’re mine, and I protect what is mine.That includes keeping you safe and making sure you don’t waste another second of your life worrying about money.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.My brain has shut down for a moment.
“I can’t sit here like some doll in a cage,” I manage, voice smaller now.“I need to get out, see people, breathe, have a life.”
He narrows his eyes, something dangerous glinting beneath the surface.
“Your life is here,” he grits out.“With me.”
I break free from his embrace and take a step back with a frustrated cry.“What will happen when you tire of me?When you start a family and realize that having a mistress is not as much fun and giggles as you thought?What will I do?I can’t go back to Father’s place.I have no work.I will have to start over from scratch.”
He opens his mouth to reply but I cut him off.“If it happens in a day, in a week, that’s fine.But what if it happens in a year?In five years?My life is not here with you, but out there.I had a life before you came and took it from me.”
His jaw clenches so tight I can see the vein on his neck bulge.Wanting to appease him, I take a step forward and place my hands on his chest in a pleading gesture.
“Please, Dark, let me go,” I say softly.
He looks stricken.His heart thunders under my palm.He lifts his hands to cover mine and for a few seconds we stare at each other in silence, sharing more with our gazes than we ever could express with words.
Then his eyes cloud over with darkness and he pushes my hands away with a snarl.“Never.You are staying right here until I say otherwise, is that clear?”
“So what, I will be your mistress until you tire and discard me like a used toy?”My voice rises, tears starting to gather in my eyes.
“Exactly.”His voice is cold and final, and I let out a frustrated sob.
He curses softly and turns to leave in the direction of his home gym, his face a mask of cold fury.
On the threshold, he stops and says over his shoulder in a flat voice, “I left you something on the dining room table.”
Then he is gone.
I release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and slowly head toward the dining room.There on the table sits a smooth rectangular box.When I get closer, I recognize the minimalistic white packaging of a smartphone.My heart leaps in my throat.I take the sleek phone out of the box and power it up.The screen lights up after a few seconds and I unlock it with a swipe of my thumb.The phone number is written on a sticky note at the bottom of the box and when I scroll through my contacts, my sister’s and Erin’s numbers are already saved.As is a contact saved under “Dark”.
I pull up the email app and log into my email account, amazed that it works and I can read my emails.I send out two texts, one to Chiara and one to Erin, to let them know of my new phone number.Then I seek out Damiano to thank him.
He can’t possibly know that what he gave me is more than a simple phone.It is a small piece of freedom and a fragment of his trust.No matter how wrong this all feels, he still gave me something that mattered.
My heart hammers in my chest when I stand in front of the door to the gym.I hear thuds and grunts and I push the door open.Sure enough, Damiano is punching a boxing bag with his back to me, wearing only gym shorts.His broad back is covered in ink, the motifs swirling with each ripple of the powerful muscles beneath his sun-kissed skin.He is slick from sweat and suddenly I am having trouble breathing.I am rooted to the spot, shamelessly ogling my captor.I know that he is big, really big, but without his crisp shirts and suits, he looks rugged, his body built for power and domination.I am mesmerized by his tattoos and find myself wanting to trace them with my fingertips.His movements are fluid and controlled and they have me enthralled.
I must have made a noise because he stops and his face turns my way.
“I-I wanted to thank you.For the phone,” I stammer.
He doesn’t reply and strides to the far wall to retrieve a water bottle from which he gulps several mouthfuls.Then he picks up a towel and starts to wipe off the sweat from his face, neck and chest, his eyes on me the whole time.
I am still mesmerized, incapable of any coherent thought or movement as I watch him sling the towel around his neck and stalk toward me, his face emotionless.
“I-I better get going.”My voice sounds croaky.
Too late.He is on me and has me caged in with his arms resting against the door.The scent of his cologne mixed with his sweat is tantalizing.My throat is dry.His eyes are two black voids.There is no trace of the ring of amber around his pupils.He fists his hand into my hair and yanks my head back hard to look down into my face.
“Why don’t you thank me on your knees like the good little slut you are?”I flinch from his crude words and cold tone.Before I can break free, his mouth is on mine.
His presence overwhelms me, his tongue conquering my mouth, claiming my soul, and all I can do is surrender and submit to him.
My brain is scrambling to form coherent thoughts.Would it be so bad to be his whore?To not have to fight and just let go?
