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She gives me a bland stare. “You told me to get dressed, so I did.” She picks up the wine glass and takes a quick sip, watching me.
“I do believe I told you there was an outfit for you on the bed. And what reason do you have for not wearing it?”
“You picked out a dress that was far too revealing, and considering you threatened to shoot anyone who saw me, well, I figured why tempt fate? So this way, you can’t say I didn’t cover every inch of myself. My conscience is clear, and if it pisses you off, well, why not?”
Well, well, it looks like my little mouse has gotten brave and is not so carefully watching her words. Time will tell if I enjoy it or not. “You know, I could punish you for disobeying me,” I remind her, nonchalantly grabbing my utensils and cutting into my salmon. A favorite dish of mine normally, but tonight I hardly taste it, my entire focus on the woman sitting to my left.
She gives me a defiant look. “You could, but I’m used to it, so your threats don’t scare me.”
Oh, how I want to prove her wrong, but no, not yet. She would expect such a hot-headed move, and from the look in her eyes, she’s counting on it. Instead, I reply, “Lucky for you, you chose something that amuses me. Though that dress would have been beautiful on you. I picked it specifically for you when my personal shopper showed it to me.”
Her fork stops mid-air as she stares at me. I hold it as she works through what I just said. “You had someone pick that out for me?” she asks carefully after a moment.
“I’m a man of particular tastes. So if anything doesn’t fit, I’ll have something else that does brought in.”
She blinks a couple times. “Wait, so that entire closet full of clothes is for me?” When I don’t respond, she takes a slow, deep breath. “So, how long exactly did you plan on taking me for?”
I shrug. “Since the moment you bumped into me the second time,” I reply. “I told you,topolina, I take what I want.”
“My God, this is too insane for even me to believe,” she mutters, though it’s loud enough for me to hear it clearly. “Who in their right mind looks at a person and takes them against their will? Psychopaths, that’s who.” She gives me an angry glare. “Didn’t you care that I might have a life? That I have dreams and wants of my own? That maybe I don’t want to be a prisoner? No,” she continues bitterly before I can respond. “No, you’re just like the rest of them. You think everyone is at your beck and call, that you can take and take, and no one will say anything because of who you are and your reputation. But you made a mistake when you took me, Nico.”
This is the second time she’s used my first name, and while normally I would never allow such a familiarity or casualness from anyone without my permission, but the way she says my name has me once again thinking of how many different ways I can make her say it. “Did I?” I return, taking another bite of my fish. “Why don’t you enlighten me then, Giulia, since you’re so talkative this evening.”
“Because you didn’t take into account that I’ve been dealing with men like you my entire life. You think your name, your power, your threats, will make me fall in line. Like tonight. You came into the bathroom when you knew I was bathing, and ordered me out, dressed, and down here to eat with you. When I told you no, you didn’t care. You spend every night with me making me eat, talking to me, and asking cleverly veiled questions to gauge my willingness to share my family’s secrets with you. Because you think you can trick them out of me, despite me telling you they don’t tell me anything. I am nothing more than an annoyance to them. A stray dog they feel obligated to feed and clothe, but not care for. Once I reach my usefulness with you, you’ll either kill me, or send me back to them, knowing full well they’ll probably kill me on sight. Or, they’ll torture me until I tell them what I told you, then kill me. Oh, but not before they give me to their men first, let them have their turn with me since I’ll be used up goods, right? Isn’t that what you said the other night? Of no more value because they’ll be sure that I allowed you to fuck me like a whore. But what will it matter to you?
“You’ll have gotten what you wanted, and you’ll make whatever move you want to get ahead. And then you’ll move on to the next woman that can further your cause, not caring who you hurt in the process. Only, next time, you’ll have learned from your time with me. You’ll probably chain her up in the basement, save yourself the headache. No big room with all the fancy clothes and library for her. No, she’ll be expendable like me. Or maybe, you’ll just take her straight to your bed, and she’ll let you because you’ll promise to let her go once she tells you what you need. Because women are nothing to men like you. We’re a warm hole, information givers, and then expendable. Right? So you go ahead and threaten to beat me, or hell, just go ahead and do it, because I can promise you whatever you do, they’ve probably done it and worse.” Her eyes burn into mine, her face red with her anger, and the grip on her knife is so tight that her knuckles are white. Suddenly, she tosses down the knife, pushes back from the table and stands. “I’m no longer hungry. I’d like to go back to my room.” Then she turns and heads for the door.
I allow her to take a few steps before I’m up and moving. She’s not even halfway to the door before I reach out, grab her by the upper arm, spin her, and press her into the wall. She lets out a small gasp, but quickly cuts it off when she gets a look at my face. Her eyes widen as they stare up at me, and I let her see my anger. My grip on her arm is tight, but not enough to bruise as I lift her up to my eye level. She weighs next to nothing, and even when she struggles, I ignore it. Instead, I step into her, wedging my leg between hers so she can’t try and kick me in the balls.
She’s trapped, and from the wary look in her eyes, she’s quickly realizing it. “You do not walk away from me, Giulia,” I tell her in a low, tight voice, letting her see and hear my anger and displeasure. “I have been lenient with you, and you think that by comparing me to your worthless father, and your cock sucking brothers, you’re going to earn yourself any more favors from me?”
She bares her teeth at me and hisses, “Some kind of favor to keep me locked away against my will. Or do you expect me to thank you? Would that make you happy? Would that make you let me go?”
“I would think that someone in your position would be grateful to no longer have to worry about being beaten day in and day out,” I hiss back.
“But I am not free,” she rages, “I’m still under a man’s thumb, at your mercy. You may not beat me, but taking away my choices, my ability to come and go as I please, it’s just as horrible.”
Deep down, I know she’s right. But I don’t care. “You foolish girl. You really think you’ll be free if I let you go? Do you think that you will ever be free? You were born into the world of the mafia. You are a commodity that men like me, like your father, use to barter with. To connect families and territories so we can grow our empires. As far as most men in our world are concerned, they want to know you’re pretty enough for them to fuck, to breed with strong sons to continue on the family name. Nothing more. We don’t care about your wants, your dreams, or your desires. They are worth nothing more than a passing thought to most. You may not like that you’re here, but here you are. You’re mine, Giulia De Luca. Because I saw you, I took you, and I refuse to let you go.”
“So that’s it? I’m going to be your prisoner forever?” she whispers, sounding defeated.
I hate the sound of it in her voice. No, I want her to rage, to scream, not give up. Where is my strong little mouse that knows exactly when to fight back? I set her back on her feet, loosening my hold on her arms, but I cup her chin in my hand, holding her still. “It is your choice to see yourself as a prisoner,topolina,” I remind her. “Instead of making the best of a situation, you fight me. And while I enjoy our little battle, you will never win,cara mia.”
She blinks, and then I see it. Just underneath the defeat, there’s a little flash of something. That fighting spirit I know is building inside her. And as we continue to stare at each other, it builds. She’s not about to let this go, and I almost look forward to seeing what she’s going to do. “Do not underestimate me,stronzo.”
It’s the first time she’s cursed me to my face, and while I should be infuriated at her disrespect, instead, I grip her chin tighter, lower my face toward hers, and murmur, “I wouldn’t dream of it,topolina. But do not underestimate the man who holds your life in his hands. Hands that can be kind and gentle, or can be harsh and brutal.”
“So much for not threatening to beat me,” she sneers quietly.
A small smirk pulls at my lips as I reply, “I do not need to beat you to make you submit,cara mia. Placing my hands in just the right spot, I can make you scream, or I can make you beg.” I move my hand down from her chin to her throat, holding tight enough to make her breathing choppy as I whisper, “Do you feel that,topolina? Do you feel your body struggling for air? The way your senses are heightened? I can feel the pulse in your throat pounding, and I can see your panic.” I loosen my grip, and she takes in a trembling breath, her face red and her eyes wide as she stares up at me in shock. I move my hand down along the smooth skin of her neck to the zipper at the top of the onesie, slowly, oh so slowly, pulling it down. She doesn’t fight me; instead, she stares at me, waiting. Power and desire pour through me, though I remind myself to be cautious. To be patient. As soon as the zipper is down enough for me to see that she is wearing only a simple black cotton bra beneath, I bite back a groan.
I hold her gaze as I move my hand down between the gentle swells of her breasts, but never delving inside as I brush my fingertips along her sternum and then up over the top of her breast to her shoulder. Her skin heats and pebbles beneath my touch, and she trembles. Her lips part slightly as I move along her collarbone, then dip back down over the swell of her breast again and then along the bra underwire. When I reach her center and move my fingers down again, she trembles under my touch, and her eyes are full of confusion, heat, and a small hint of worry.
Instead of pushing lower, despite the fact that I want to know if she’s wearing anything else under this ridiculous outfit, I move my fingers back up the center of her chest to her neck once more. There, I cup it lightly, and murmur, “And now I can feel your body responding to mine. It wants more, heating under my touch. If I moved those feeble cups out of the way, I could have you squirming and begging within seconds. So remember, Gia, while you may think that a beating is the only way for me to get my point across, I can assure where you are concerned, it is not. And I would much prefer to hold you on that edge for hours to hear you beg me so desperately.”
She doesn’t say anything, her entire body trembling now as I draw the zipper back up on her onesie, and force myself to step back. “If you would like to go back to your room, I will have Dante escort you,” I tell her calmly, though my voice is a bit rougher than I like. I give her a warning look. “And I expect you to behave yourself.”
She doesn’t reply, only waits silently as I call Dante back into the room. As they walk out the door, she glances briefly over her shoulder at me, confusion and uncertainty clear on her face.
