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The hairpin finally slides in at the right angle and the lock clicks open. I almost gasp in relief before quickly swallowing it down. I’m about to tear my wrist away from the handcuff when I hear footsteps out in the hallway.
The door opens a second later. I fall still and warily watch as Giovanni enters the room. He’s calm, his handsome, chiseled face as composed and enigmatic as the night I met him. His attempt of keeping his fiery temper at bay.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, stopping short at the foot of the bed.
I do my best to hide the loathing from my face. “Can you please let me go?”
“Will you obey?”
Fucking asshole.
I shut my eyes and force out a breath. “Yes.”
“I’m not sure I believe you anymore. Not yet,” he says coolly. He walks around to the side of the bed and sits down like earlier. “We need to fix this.”
The only way to keep myself from blurting out my true feelings is to bite down on my tongue. So that’s what I do—I bite down and draw blood, welcoming the throbbing pain. It can join all the rest.
“You were very clever, how long you evaded me,” he admits. He reaches out to stroke my cheek, but I can’t do it; I turn my head away. He doesn’t get to touch me. Not after what he’s doing to me. His hand falls to the side, though his gaze remains fixed on me. “You led us on a frustrating chase for weeks. The fake kidnapping was smart. Do you know how worried about you I was? I thought Luca Lovato had gotten revenge from the grave.
“I flipped the fuck out. But I’m sure you knew that. No one knows me as well as you do. Then the little clues you left in so many different, conflicting places. My men had a lot of trouble sorting them out. We’ve had easier times tracing actual real criminals who have been on the run from us than we did finding you. I’m impressed.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because,” he answers, his expression suddenly darkening, “you’ve impressed me. But you’ve once again disobeyed me. You don’t take my commands seriously. You don’t submit to me like you should, Falynn. You continue to disrespect me at every turn.”
The panic sets in, my heart pounding. “Please…please just let me go. I won’t say a word to anyone. I’ll go my way. You can go yours. Please, I don’t want to do it anymore.Please, Gio.”
He releases a lone chuckle and scrubs a hand over his bearded jaw. “You think you can soften me up by being sweet like that, Honey? All while you have the face to ask to leave me? Why don’t you understand our marriage is forever? Do you not love me anymore?”
No. Not like this.
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” I answer instead. “This isn’t working. Please let me leave.”
Giovanni reaches for me again, refusing my attempt to evade him. His large palm, once so warm and affectionate, now feels like a violation cupping my cheek. He studies my face much in the same manner he’s done hundreds of times since we’ve been together.
His intent stares used to make me feel cherished and loved. That’s gone too. I just want him to release me.
He doesn’t seem to get I’ve checked out of this marriage. As deeply as I love—loved—him, I can’t do it anymore. I can’t even pretend. My tank’s not just running on fumes. It’s devoid of a single drop.
“We’ll fix this,” he says softly. “Once my work isn’t so hectic and I’ve eliminated the last of the fuckers after us, I’ll take you back to Paris. We’ll finish the dinner at the Louvre. It’ll be like before. I’m going to take you to Doctor Romano, and we’ll find a better treatment for you.”
He’s not listening. He refuses to hear anything but what he wants. The thoughts and opinions of others, including mine, simply don’t matter.
He’sKing. Nobody else gets a say. Not even his wife.
Exhaustion weighs me down to the bed. The last bit of fight in me dies. I don’t have the energy. My body throbs in different places from the injuries I’ve sustained. My mind’s worn out from so many frantic thoughts. My heart aches and then breaks, destroying any hope I have with it.
“Do whatever you want,” I mutter numbly. “I don’t care.”
“Honey, we love each other. You need to trust me. Let me handle everything. I’m going to fix it. I promise.” He comes in close for a kiss. When I don’t give in to him, he captures my lips anyway.
Gentle and probing. He takes his time kissing me, touching me, trying to get me wet for him. His hands wander my body, but rather than ignite a hot flame over my skin as they once did, I feel more like recoiling.
There’s no passion. No spark. The magic we once had is gone and dead.
He can’t possibly feel it if I don’t. Deep down he has to sense it too.
But, stubbornly, he kisses me some more. His lips travel down my neck and his fingers undo the buttons on my top. He slides me out of my pants, never once breaking away from showering me with kisses. His fingers find my pussy, fondling me through my panties.
