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Luca lifted the thin strip of lace over my breast and pinched the hard bud between his fingers. He twisted my nipple harder, and this time I cried out in pain.
“You want to know what it takes to be my queen?”
“Yes,” I moaned.
He ripped the lace straight down the middle, baring my naked body to him. Pinching my other nipple, he yanked so hard I thought he would rip the damn thing off. But with the pain came an intense pang of pleasure.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
Luca sucked on the tiny bud, sending a ripple of electricity down my legs. At first, he soothed my pain, but then his soft licks turned into hard tugs with his teeth. He stared at me with my nipple between his teeth and a wild look in his blue irises.
“Luca,” I panted.
His tongue glided down my stomach. Every inch of my body heated where he licked, and when he stopped right above my pussy, I cupped the back of his head.
“Please, Luca.”
Hearing his name from my lips must have sparked something inside him because he looked even more insane as his eyes met mine.
“A queen never begs,” he said as he stood to his full height, towering over me. “She takes what she wants.” He stepped backward, shaking his head. “Get dressed.”
I glanced down at my ripped lingerie and sighed. Luca lifted his cell phone from the bedside table and typed a quick text message. Then he poured himself another glass of scotch and dropped into the armchair. He lit a cigar and looked at me from beneath his dark brows. A plume of smoke gathered around his head, and he went back to ignoring me.
Marcello appeared a minute later, still dressed in a suit. He gave me a concerned look, but I just shrugged, tying the robe around my waist.
Furious with Luca, I marched over to him, stood between his spread thighs, and smacked him across his smug face. “That’s what a queen would do.”
Fuck, that hurt.
As I walked away, I shook out my stinging palm, and Luca roared with laughter. I stormed out of the room with Marcello at my side. Neither of us muttered a single word until we were one floor below and standing in front of my bedroom door.
Marcello grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. “What was that about?”
I peeked up at him and shrugged. “I’m playing the game.”
I laid on the floor of my bedroom, my fingers wrapped around a piece of vine charcoal. Making slow, sweeping movements, I sketched the rough idea for my next piece. I’d drawn a man with murderous eyes, his horns sticking up from his thick dark hair. Smoke and falling ash surrounded his head, making him look as if he’d stepped out of Hell. He wore a fitted suit that outlined his muscles, his jacket shoved to the side, revealing the guns strapped to his chest.
Marcello strolled into my bedroom and stopped a few inches in front of my face. I saw his shiny black dress shoes before I looked up at all six feet four inches of him. My mouth watered liked I’d been walking in the desert for months and was desperate for a drink. His muscular body hugged a three-piece Brioni suit he wore like armor.
“You’ve been busy,” Marcello noted. “New Devil painting?”
I sat up and handed him the sketchpad. “I’m trying something new.”
He studied the pad, and I thought I saw a semblance of a smile. Those were rare in this house.
“It’s a rough draft,” I told him.
His eyes met mine. “This might be your best work.”
I beamed with delight. “You think so?”
He nodded as he handed back the book. “You have a natural gift. My mom could see the flaws in every person and bring them out.”
A pang of anxiety crushed my chest as I studied his handsome face. My feelings for Marcello and Luca had changed in the past week. Marcello hadn’t spent years making my life hell, forcing me to be with him. I had a choice. He cared about my opinions, my feelings. Well, when he wasn’t drugging me or locking me in my bedroom at his brother’s request. Deep down, I knew he had feelings for me.
“Marcello,” I whispered.
His thumb glided across his bottom lip, and I wanted to suck his lip into my mouth and push him onto the bed.
He dropped to one knee on the carpet, right in front of me. “Promise me you won’t run or do anything stupid that will force me to hunt you down.”
I stared into his sad blue eyes. “I promise.”
Marcello removed a cell phone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He held out his hand, forcing me to sit up to take the phone. “I programmed a few numbers for you.”
I slid my thumb across the screen, hit the phone icon, and scanned the Favorites. Luca was number one, of course. Marcello was number two on the list. Beneath his name was Pops, then Kali Marx. He knew better than to add my parents. They could go to fucking hell.
