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I stood quietly as he undressed me. He was careful. Slow. Gentle. He kissed my shoulder, then pressed his lips against my neck. He took me to bed and spent hours tending to me, his clothes still on until the very end.
He kept me on the edge of release but never stopped touching me, never stopped telling me I was beautiful, that he would never hurt me or allow me to be hurt.
Finally, he stripped his clothes off and gave in to my desires, and his own. He took me roughly, the gentleman long gone. As he drove himself into me again and again, his words changed.
He cursed his love for me. He made it sound more like a burden than a blessing. He made me swear never to scare him like that again. He demanded that I be more careful with my life. He told me he loved me. He told me that he hated how much he loved me.
I promised him everything he asked for and more.
I gave him my love. I gave him my body. I gave him my world.
As soon as the words left my lips, he came, his big body heaving above me as I shuddered helplessly beneath him. I held onto him tightly, feeling safer than I had in years. I had truly frightened him. He said something in Italian that broke my heart.
He said that he couldn’t lose me. Not like he’d lost his mother. Not like his mother . . .
As I slipped into a deep, healing sleep, one thought occurred to me.
Maybe, just maybe, we could really save each other. Maybe we could truly heal. Grow. Change for the better. Maybe together, we could be whole.
When I woke, he was dressing. I felt deeply satisfied, down to my bones. Happy and content. I stretched lazily and watched him, admiring the way his body moved with such natural, animalistic grace.
That was before I noticed the necklace. I touched it, then fiddled with it. It was hard, curved, and immovable. I couldn’t get a good look at it. I tried to pull it off to look more closely, but it was locked in place.
The necklace was tighter than the jewelry I usually wore. Not a pendant. More like a choker. I tugged at it again and realized I literally could not remove it.
“Good. You’re awake. I need to get back to the city.”
“What is this?”
“It’s a tracking device so you are never out of my sight again.”
“What?”
“I can’t lose you,” he said without stopping what he was doing. He fastened his cuffs and added platinum cufflinks with the Margarelli family insignia. “I refuse to risk it. I won’t endure that again.”
He looked at me briefly, completely unconcerned, then went back to dressing. I was an afterthought to him, I realized. I stood and walked to the bathroom to look in the mirror. It wasn’t a necklace. It was a collar. Almost like something you would put on an animal. I walked back into the bedroom, the sheet trailing behind me.
“I don’t like this, Vincent. Weren’t you going to ask me before you put it on?”
A strange, dark feeling settled in my belly when he answered, “No.”
Chapter Forty-One
Vincent
I ducked as a vase flew by my head. I didn’t mind. I hadn’t picked it out. The house was barely furnished yet. Whatever was here was from the design firm I’d hired to renovate and prepare it for us.
“Watch the windows,” I said calmly. I was unprepared for her reaction to the tracking device Michael had procured for me. But I didn’t care. Besides, she was absolutely glorious when she was angry.
And by God, the woman was angry. More than angry. She was absolutely furious with me.
I wanted to take her back to bed and soothe away her anger. I had work to do, but it could wait. Everything could wait for the magnificent woman standing before me, naked other than the white satin sheet she clutched with one hand against her heaving bosom.
“How dare you! I am not your . . . chattel!”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked. I was fueling her fire. But I didn’t care. My pride wouldn’t let me back down. My sanity demanded that I have access to her location at all times.
I needed this, more than I had needed anything in my life. I could not, and I would not, go through that experience again.
Next time, I decided, I’ll have her implanted with a chip.
“Take this off me right now, Vincent!”
“No,” I said, refusing to shout. I was right. I knew I was right. I’d put her in chains if I fucking had to!
“You are going to regret this!”
“I doubt it,” I said, starting to feel my temper rise. “Would you prefer that I keep you under lock and key, or would you like to be reasonable about this?”
