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Luca
For the next week, I manage to avoid Sofia as much as possible. Besides the conversation where she ambushed me asking me to let her go shopping with Caterina, which led to my penthouse being turned into a bridal salon for the day, we barely speak. I leave as early as I can for the office, and by the time I come home late at night, she’s already asleep.
Which suits me, because I don’t know what to say to her—especiallyafter what happened between us the night I saw the security tape.
I’m not sure what came over me when I watched it. I hadn’t intentionally been spying on her. Still, I’d wanted to make sure that nothing out of the ordinary had happened while I was gone. I hadn’t expected to seethat. I’d been concerned about her inviting a friend over without my consent, or trying to leave, or—
To be completely honest, I’m not entirely sure what I’d worried about that had led me to check the footage. The meeting with Viktor had left me on edge, feeling thrust into a situation beyond my control, one where I’m constantly one step behind. I’d wanted to regain some of that sense of control, somehow. And when I’d seen Sofia reclining in that chair, her delicate fingers holding her shorts to one side while the fingers of her other hand plunged into the pussy that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about—something snapped inside of me.
I’ve never done anything like what I did to her with another woman. I’ve always been dominant in the bedroom, the one in charge and calling the shots, but it’s always been easy. Women are too awed by me, too desperate for a night with me, too hopeful that they’ll be the ones to seduce me out of my avowed bachelorhood to be particularly challenging or creative in bed. They do whatever I ask them, whenever I ask for it. I’ve never met a single woman who challenged me in the bedroom or who would dare to talk back to me once the clothes start coming off—or even before then, really.
I’ve never met a woman I needed to master. A woman that I couldn’t get out of my head. One who drove me to the brink of control over and over again.
Until Sofia.
The sight and sound of her making herself come drove me wild when I saw it. The thought of her touching herself, giving herself pleasure when she insists on denying me, fighting me, rebelling against me at every turn, had made me feel slightly unhinged. I’d been rock-hard the entire time I watched it, glad that I’d opted to view it alone instead of with the guards.
I’d also made a point of asking if anyone else had reviewed the footage. I was grateful they hadn’t—I’d have had to fire them on the spot. In fact, I’m not sure what else I would have done if I’d thought any other man had gotten to see my beautiful wife spread-eagled in the penthouse and fingering herself.
I hadn’t intended to punish her at first. Everything that had happened after that, once I’d gone into the penthouse and found her, had been unplanned. But then she’d failed to do the one thing I’d asked of her.
Lied to me.
Denied everything I asked about.
And I’d lost control.
I’d spent that entire night in my hotel room, unable to stop fantasizing about her. Trying to force her out of my system by thinking of every possible thing I could want to do to Sofia’s beautiful, perfect body while pleasuring myself over and over again.
It hadn’t worked.
And she’s driving me insane.
She’s a burden. A distraction. Another responsibility in a sea of other responsibilities is a person depending on me to keep her safe when so many others are. And yet, she fights me at every turn. Lies to me. Pretends to hate me when I know she’s as conflicted as I am.
I’d only been able to think of one way to regain some control. And the entire time, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to dominate her. To demand her body’s submission, to torture and punish her with pleasure, to tease her to the brink of madness, so that she could feel what I do every time I think of her. To tell her that her body is mine, to give or withhold pleasure as I please.
And she’d loved it. It had been obvious. The problem was—I had too.
It had taken every ounce of control I had not to fuck her then and there. I wanted it, craved it, needed it desperately. But that night wasn’t supposed to be about losing control. It was supposed to be about winning it back. It was supposed to be about exerting my power over her so that I can finally get her out of my head.
So I hadn’t fucked her. I’d done the opposite. I’d mocked her, taunted her with her obvious desire, and then kicked her out of the room so that I could jerk off into my lonely hand again, when I probably could have fucked her all night long if I’d tried. She’d been so aroused she’d have probably done anything I wanted.
Sometimes I feel as if she’s making me lose my mind.
She’s been so careful to avoid me that I have no idea what’s going on in her head. And I shouldn’t be concerned with that. I have an empire to run and a war to try to stop in its tracks.
Since my meeting with Viktor, there’s been a tentative peace despite his threats. I’ve doubled the security everywhere—on my office, Franco’s home, his family’s home, the Rossi residence where Caterina is staying. The quiet is almost more alarming than the attacks because it makes me worry that he might be planning something big. I can’t possibly add more security to my own penthouse, but I’ll be leaving a personal bodyguard with Sofia this weekend.
Which brings my thoughts full circle to the thing irritating me the most right now—the upcoming weekend. Despite the tension and danger hovering over us, Franco is insistent that he can’tnothave a bachelor party. And I get it—he’ll only ever be married once, and there’s nothing Franco loves more than a good party. But the last thing onmymind right now is getting wildly drunk somewhere.
“It’ll be good for you to get away from Sofia. Away from all of this.” Franco is in my office now, leaning forward as he makes his argument for fucking off away from Manhattan for a weekend once more. “You look like you’re about to explode, Luca. This much stress isn’t good for your health. Isn’t that what you used to tell Rossi all the time? To relax once in a while?
“He didn’t have a war on his hands when I said that,” I growl, looking up at him. “You’re really willing to leave your fiancée here while we go off to party—where was it you said you wanted to go again? Cabo?”
“Tijuana,” Franco says with a smirk. “You can get away with a hell of a lot more there. And yes, I am. We’ll leave plenty of security with her. Come on, Luca, I know I’m not expected to be faithful once I’m married, but when do you really think I’ll have a chance to go out of the country and fuck three hookers of questionable legal age at once while high on cocaine after I’m a family man? Caterina is going to want me to stay home and put a baby in her.”
“Truly the worst possible task,” I retort dryly. “Jesus, Franco, your fiancée is one of the most beautiful women in Manhattan. Heiress to a fortune. Almost certainly a virgin. And you’re complaining about having to fuck her?”
