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The door opens and Stefano steps inside, patiently waiting for me.
“Don’t do this,” I plead with my father, but he ignores me, demanding that I rise to my feet.
I wipe away my tears and the blood from my lip before standing and smoothing my dress. I hate this. With every fiber of my being, I hate this. But my mother is right about one thing. I am strong and intelligent. I am a fucking Genovese. And we aren’t defeated easily.
My father reaches out to touch me but I avoid him. “You’ll understand why I did this one day.”
I shake my head. “I will never understand this.”
Without another word, Stefano leads me outside to his waiting car. My suitcase is placed in the trunk.
“I understand this is hard for you. Likely not the way you expected your evening to go.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Although I understand, I will not tolerate that defiant behavior from you. You belong to me now. You’ll simply have to get used to the idea.”
I don’t argue with him. Instead, I keep quiet for the rest of the ride. I keep quiet when he shows me inside and to his bedroom. I don’t utter a sound as he strips off my clothes and shows me I’m no longer free. I flinch when he reaches up to touch my face, my cheek still throbbing.
“You don’t ever have to fear me, Milana,” he assures me. “But you will respect me. Get on the bed. I want you on your knees.”
I consider trying to make a run for it but that thought is fleeting. There’s nowhere to run to. There are guards everywhere and they don’t work for me.
Defeated, I do as he says, climbing onto the bed and settling on my knees. The bed dips as he joins me. His bare thighs rub against mine. His cock throbs against my pussy. And in one rough thrust, he’s seated deep inside me. That glimmer of freedom I thought I had is destroyed.
Tears roll down my cheeks. I belong to Stefano Moretti. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
24
Salvatore
Stepping inside the kitchen, I swallow some Aspirin. I barely slept at all last night. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t erase thoughts of my father and Milana from my mind. I was fucking tormented imagining them in all the sexual positions we’ve shared. Even more tormented by the fact that I did this. I won her for him.
I place the glass in the sink just as she walks in. She’s wearing a t-shirt and cotton pajama pants. Her long dark hair is down, but it doesn’t cover the marks on her arms. Tiny bruises mar her perfect skin.
“How are you?”
She pours a cup of coffee. “How am I? Are you fucking serious right now?”
Facing me, she reveals that her right eye is bruised and her lip has been busted. I reach up, cupping her face.
“Did he do this?” I ask, and she pulls away from me. “If he hurt you?”
“You’ll what, Salvatore? Come rescue me?”
One day.
“Good morning,figlio.Milana.”
My father joins us and presses a kiss to Milana’s forehead, pretending not to notice her body stiffening.
“You wanted me here at eight. Here I am.”
“We need to finalize the documents from last night.”
“Everything has been taken care of. I had the attorneys draft it all first thing this morning.”
Figured I’d spend my time doing something useful since sleep wouldn’t come. Besides, I knew he would ask me about it.
