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I rested my forehead against his, nails scratching over his stubble.
“I fucked up.” He inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore.”
My heart dropped, or maybe it was cracking. I pulled away from him enough to take in the resolute expression on his face.
“I’m distracted. This was supposed to be a simple marriage arrangement.” He was sending me back to Chicago.
I pushed off him, needing distance between us as I absorbed his words. He was giving up. Wait, wasn’t that what I’d wanted this whole time?
“Tommy never should have been in a position to get shot. That’s on me.” And me, apparently.
“You blame me?”
He swiped a hand over his tired face. “No, Emilia, I blame me.”
“You’re going to hand me back to my uncle?” My voice cracked, betraying the horror that was starting to wind around my throat like the fingers of death. Oh my God, he was going to give me to Matteo. After what I had done in that club…he’d kill me for sure. I couldn’t breathe.
Gio pushed to his feet and reached for me, but I backed away. “Emilia, calm down. Of course not. I’ve arranged for you to stay in one of my apartments—”
“You said I was yours.” The words were weak and thready, and though I’d fought them, him going back on them hurt.
“You don’t want this!” he roared. “And I want you too much. It drives me mad, chasing what I can’t fucking have.” He dragged an agitated hand through his hair. “You distract me, Emilia, and it might have cost Tommy his life.”
I’d hated him and fought him and done everything to avoid marrying him. But now, when he finally gave up, when he was willing to let me go, I realized it was the last thing I wanted.
“You are still mine, though. No one will hurt—”
I closed the distance between us and placed my fingers over his lips. “You’re right. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want your deals, or for you to coerce me, or threaten me, or buy me….” I dropped my hand and met his gaze, fighting tears. “I won’t beg you to marry me, just so I can live. I won’t marry you just so I don’t get handed off to Matteo Romano as a whore.” My voice hitched, and he cupped my cheek, calloused thumb sweeping over my jaw. “But I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t want you.”
He stilled.
“Just you. And me. And this.” I placed my hand on his chest, sliding my palm over the material of his shirt. I wanted him. I wanted him to allow me a single moment without all the strings that came with being his. I wanted him to be the first man I willingly gave myself to while I still could.
“It’s more complicated than that,” he whispered.
I shook my head. “This isn’t complicated. So give me this. For one night. No begging, no deals….”
His eyes searched mine as an agonizing moment passed between us. Then he kissed me. He kissed me like a man searching for the meaning of his very existence, and I kissed him back like I wanted to be it. His hands went to my waist, my thighs wrapping around him as he carried me to his bedroom.
“I’m not going to make you beg, piccola.” He lowered me to my feet at the end of his bed and grabbed the hem of my shirt, slowly sliding it up my body. Rough fingers grazed over my skin, inch by torturous inch, as his lips brushed my ear. “But you will submit like the good little girl I know you are.”
The way he said it had me panting, longing for the battle of wills we always had.
I lifted my arms, and he slid the shirt over my head, stepping back to take in my naked body.
“Fuck.”
I had the urge to cover myself, but the look in his eyes made me pause. He fisted my hair before his lips crashed over mine, hard and angry and barely restrained.
“Get on your knees, princess,” he commanded against my lips.
I hesitated, unable to simply bow to him. We both knew I would eventually, but I liked the struggle before we got there.
He smiled like the devil himself. “Strike one.”
The thought of him spanking me again had heat flushing my skin, but I’d sooner kneel than admit I secretly liked his palm on my ass. Conflicted. He always left me conflicted, mind warring with my body. I reluctantly dropped to my knees. His fingers never loosened from my hair, and I knew he loved this—the power, the domination. It was ingrained in him, a fundamental part of who he was. It was what made people fear him, but as I glanced up at him, his expression tinging on feral, I realized I held more power over Giovanni Guerra in this moment than maybe anyone ever had. And I wanted more, everything he had to give. With a trembling hand, I reached for his belt and released it. His fingers flinched in my hair at the sound of his zipper lowering. I only tore my gaze from his face when his dick sprung free, hard and angry looking. I traced one finger over the velvety skin, and he groaned as though I’d grabbed it.
