“I already told you. You need to learn to take your punishment. This is me teaching you.”
I arch my back, determined to take my pleasure from him, but he draws away. Sitting up on his knees, he draws my hips onto his lap, the bonds just allowing for that, and he fucks me, thrusting deep but slow, moaning with each thrust as he leaves me with nothing but want. Not a moment of relief, not a single instant before he comes again, filling me up, emptying inside me again. And when he pulls out and lays me back on the bed, I feel his cum rush out of me. He watches it. And, like last time, after cleaning himself he returns with a warm washcloth and cleans me. Each stroke is a slow, drawn-out torment.
When he’s done, he walks around to his side of the bed and sits down, punches something into his phone before lying down beside me, and turns off the light.
“I can’t sleep like this.”
“Maybe you’ll learn your lesson, then. Good night, Emilia.”
With that, he rolls onto his side, splays his arm possessively over me, and within a few minutes, I hear his breath level out and he sleeps, content. Satisfied in every way. Leaving me hungry in every way.
My shoulders ache when I wake the next morning, but there’s another sensation that’s drawing me out of sleep.
I hear myself moan and feel something warm and wet on me. A moment later my eyes snap open because he’s between my legs, holding my knees wide apart as he sucks my clit. I try to tug at my arms bur remember I’m bound. Although he must have uncuffed my legs while I slept because they’re bent around his head.
“Fuck.” I suck in a breath and look at his dark head as he moves, licking the length of me.
He straightens then, stopping before I come, and I look up at him. He’s standing beside the bed fully dressed in a dark button-down shirt and slacks. My gaze pauses on his hands, and I remember my punishment. Why does that turn me on?
“Good morning, Sunshine.” Coffee steams on the nightstand, but that’s not what I want right now. “I can’t tell you the last time I slept that well.”
I groan, and he sets one knee on the bed, slaps my hip.
“Don’t be like that.” He flips me over onto my belly and draws me up so I’m on my knees, my ass to him.
I’m still because the need from last night, he just brought it raging back.
“I hope you’ll remember last night’s spanking next time you want to misbehave.”
His fingers touch a tender spot on my ass. I go to move, but he stops me. I hear the buckle of his belt, and for a moment, I think he’s going to use it. I think he’s going to use it on me.
“No!”
He grabs my hip before I can scoot away.
“Shh.” He unzips his pants, pushes them down a little to release his ready, thick cock, takes it into his hand. “Punishment is over, Sunshine.”
He sets one knee on the bed between mine and pushes my head down as he slides into me, and I arch my back against him. He squeezes my ass in his hands. It hurts, it’s sore from last night, but then he starts to move. He slips one hand beneath me and takes my clit between two fingers, and I’m lost. I’m a mess. I don’t know how many times I come as he fucks me like that, fucks me so deep I’m dripping down my thighs.
I feel his hand in my hair then, his fist gripping it, forcing me to crane my neck. Giovanni’s eyes are locked on mine, and he’s fucking me harder and his face is fierce, and I know the moment he’s going to come. I feel him thicken, I see that glow he gets in his eyes. When he shifts his gaze to watch himself fucking me, watches his cock as it’s being swallowed up by my pussy, and he presses his finger into my ass, I explode again as he thrusts to my very core and throbs inside me. When he pulls out, I fall onto the bed limp and empty, my breathing ragged, sweat covering me.
I turn my head to look at him. He stands, wipes his dick off on the towel he’d discarded last night, and tucks himself back into his pants like it was nothing. Like we didn’t just fuck like animals. He watches me, sits down on the edge of the bed, and reaches for the key on the nightstand to undo the cuffs on my wrists before he stands again and takes one of the cups of coffee.
“You okay?”
I think he’s asking about last night. About the punishment. The fucking. The torment. I don’t know exactly, but I nod. I am okay.
He nods too and checks his watch. “Go have a shower. One of my men brought some clothes from your apartment. They’re in that bag. Get dressed. Your breakfast is ready in the dining room. Once you’ve eaten, come into my study. It’s time to get some questions answered.” He turns and walks to the door.
“Giovanni?”
“Yes?” he asks, turning back to me.
“My father?”
“He’s already been moved to a safe location. Nan too.”
I exhale. “Thank you.”
He just nods like he wasn’t expecting that and walks out the door.
12
Giovanni
Thirty minutes later, Emilia is sitting in a chair across from my desk. I watch her as she looks around, taking in the large space, the imposing wooden bookcases, the dark walls, heavy curtains. The desk itself is massive, and I know sitting across from it is intimidating. But that’s the point.
I get up and walk around the desk. Leaning against it, I fold my arms across my chest.
“Did you eat?”
“Yes. Where are Nan and my father?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“I’m the one who asks the questions now.”
“How can I be sure you won’t hurt him?”
“Like I said last night, you’ll have to trust me. I’m not sure you have many other options. And I think you already know that, or you wouldn’t have asked me for help.”
“How long have you known?”
“Only since yesterday.”
“Does my brother know yet that Diaz failed again?”
There’s a curling to her lip, like there’s something distasteful in her mouth.
“I would guess so.”
“Are your men at the house? In case they can pick him up there?”
“Yes, but he hasn’t been to the house. Not yet. I don’t know if he will come. I’ve also secured your apartment.”
The way she looks at me, I know that’s where she’s expecting him to turn up.
“Is he the one who put those marks on your back?”
She watches me cautiously. I already know the answer, but I want her to confirm it. I want her to know I know.
She nods.
“When?”
“After the attack on my father.”
“When he thought he’d killed Emil?”
She nods again. “I was lucky they didn’t find my father when they found me a month later. They just assumed he was dead.”
I hear her mistake. They. Not he. “Why did they do it?” I ask, curious if she’ll pick it up.
She pauses, but I can’t read her expression. She doesn’t mention the plural. “To punish me.”
“Why?”
She looks off, just beyond my shoulder, and it’s like she’s going back to that time. Her expression is fixed, but I see the emotions flickering through her eyes. The battle she’s waging against them on the inside. It takes her a long time to return her gaze to mine.
“Do we really have to do this?”
I nod.
“It’s a long, boring story.”
“I doubt it’s boring.”
“Alessandro and I, we aren’t twins. We were triplets. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.” But I do catch her use of the past tense there.
“No one does, I guess. My brother, Stefano, died while we were still inside my mother’s belly. We weren’t to term yet, but the doctors knew my mother wouldn’t be able to carry us that long. But this was still…a surprise.
“When Stefano died, my mom went into premature labor. I was the first one delivered. The only one who came naturally. After me, there were complications, and they had to open h
er up to get Alessandro and Stefano out. When they did, when they were taking them out, that was when she died. My father lost my mother the instant he saw Alessandro’s face.
“He told me when I was older that Alessandro’s hand was wrapped around Stefano’s neck. Dad was drunk when he told me. I don’t think he remembered the next day. But to my father, Alessandro was the cause of not one, but two deaths, and he never forgot it. He hated Alessandro for it. And all those years growing up, I didn’t mind. I used my father’s affection against my brother, got everything I wanted. While he was hated, I was loved.”
She turns her eyes up to mine.
“I was a brat. I was awful to my brother. And I deserve his hate.” Emilia looks down at her lap where she’s wringing her hands. She has been since she started telling the story, but I’m not sure she was aware of it. “I could have helped. I could have made a difference with my father, but I didn’t.” She looks up at me again. “I chose not to.”
“You were a child. I doubt your mind calculated that.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I think I do, actually.”
She exhales loudly, shakes her head.
“Does Alessandro know where you are now?”
“He didn’t.”
“Was the whipping all he had planned for you?”
Her eyes study mine for too long before she nods in confirmation. But I know she’s leaving something out.
“But now that he knows dad’s alive, that he didn’t succeed in killing him, he’ll look for me. He’ll know I was the one hiding him.”
“How do you do it? The money, I mean? It must be expensive to hide him, pay for that equipment. I assume he has medical care.”
She nods. “He had set up a bank account for me from when I was little. Another perk of being the favorite. I don’t know if Alessandro knew about it. I guess not, or he’d have found some way to seize it. He can’t anymore. I’ve moved it. But there isn’t a lack of money.”
I move back around my desk, have a seat.
I open a folder on my desk, leaf through it, although I’ve already read its contents. “Your father, his condition is not improving, correct?”
She takes a deep breath in and raises her head so that her chin juts out as she glances at the folder, sees what I’m looking at. She stands, turns the folder over so she can look through it. “Why do you have this? It’s my father’s medical file.”
“I have a right to it, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“Well, if I’m responsible for him…”
“You’re not responsible for him. You’re just helping me keep him hidden for now.”
I don’t reply.
“Where is he?” she asks, closing the folder. Keeping hold of it.
“Sit down, Emilia.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
I scribble an address that’s about two hours out of the city on a sheet of paper, hand it to her. “He’s here.”
From the look on her face, she’s surprised I gave her the information. “And Nan too?”
I nod. “Would you like to talk to her?” I offer. “Just to confirm I haven’t murdered a dead man.”
“He’s not dead.”
“He’s not made any progress in four years. He wouldn’t be alive without the machines.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, actually. So do the doctors, all of them.” Because she didn’t stop at a second opinion.
She sits, and her face, it looks like a child’s for a moment. I’ve watched Emilia closely since the beginning. She’s controlled to an extreme, she’s silent, she’s strong, but at the same time, so utterly and completely vulnerable. This is the face of that vulnerability. Like that of a lost little girl. And it makes me fiercely protective.
But the noble, the good, it always has a flip side. A dark intent beneath the facade of good. Because I know I’m not good. And this instinct to protect—along its edges and seeping in at every crack is the desire to claim. The need to own. To possess.
“I want to see him.”
“That’s not a good idea. The less traffic we have, the better to keep him hidden. But you can call Nan when we’re done here.”
“Aren’t we done?”
“No. There’s a meeting tonight. You’ll attend with me.”
“A meeting?”
“Yes. I have some work to do now. Vincent will take you to your apartment to get what you need. You’ll then be brought back here to spend the day. I’d say bring a bikini to swim, but we know how that went last time.”
“Fuck you.” She stands, takes the file, walks around the chair she just vacated, and puts one hand on the back of it. “I asked for your help with one thing. I asked you to help me keep my father safe. That didn’t mean you get to take over my life, every aspect of it. I’m not going to any meeting with you. I’m going to go see my father and then I’m going to go back to my apartment—”
“Where you’ll wait for Alessandro?”
At that, she stops. “I can handle myself. I’m stronger than I was when he…did what he did. I’m not the same person anymore.”
“You may like to believe that,” I check my watch, “but you’re still no match for a man.”
“It’s not what I want to believe. It’s the truth.”
I stand, ignore her comment, and walk around the desk. I know it takes all she has to remain where she is, hugging her father’s medical file to her.
“This isn’t up for discussion. You’ll be at the meeting tonight, and you’ll behave yourself.”
“Or what? What if I don’t do as you say?”
I cup her ass and squeeze, watch her flinch.
“You really need to ask?” I pause, let my words sink into her thick skull. “Know that I was gentle last night.”
“Gentle?” She snorts.
There’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”
It’s Vincent. “Sir, the cars are ready.”
“We’ll be right there.”
He leaves and closes the door. “File,” I say, stepping back and holding out my hand.
“Why do you need it?”
“I don’t. I just want it.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“I only asked you to keep him safe.”
“File.”
She exhales, knows she won’t win this one. Truly, I could give a fuck about the file, but it’s a matter of principle. She hands it over. I thank her, then set it back on my desk.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Why do you want me at this meeting?”
“You’re charming company,” I deadpan.
“Who’s going to be there?”
“Don’t concern yourself with that. You’ll be with me. You’ll be safe.”
“Why wouldn’t I be safe?” she asks, then stops. “Does whoever it is know that you’re bringing me? Emilia Estrella?”
She’s been in hiding this long. After tonight, everyone will know she is alive and well. They’ll know more than that too, but she doesn’t know that just yet, and I don’t plan on telling her. No way she’ll go along with it if she did.
“No one knows yet.”
“But they will.”
I study her.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“I will keep you safe.” I reach out a hand to touch her cheek.
But she slaps that hand away. “You keep saying that, but who’s going to keep me safe from you?” She turns, walks out the door and, without another word, is escorted to the car that will take her to her apartment.
13
Emilia
I’m only allowed twenty minutes in my apartment, and the only moments I get alone are when I close my bathroom door. I’m back at Giovanni’s house without delay where the first thing I do is call Nan. She sounds relieved to hear from me and she tells me she and dad are safe. Two doctors have come to look at him, which I have to ask Giovanni
about because he doesn’t need new doctors, and the only help I asked for was that he keep him safe from Alessandro. She says there are a dozen armed men, and although she’d rather be at home, she feels safer to have them here now that Alessandro knows dad’s alive.
I’m given free rein of the house. I have lunch and spend an hour outside trying to flip through a magazine, but my mind is too distracted. I go inside and, after making sure the cook is in the kitchen and none of his men are around, I casually try the study door. It’s locked. I guess I knew it would be, but it was worth trying. I try the other doors too, and the only one that is unlocked, apart from his bedroom, which I’ve already searched, is the one to the library. I enter that darker room and stand looking around at the two stories of books along the walls. The comfortable chairs.
I sit in one of them, the leather worn, the seat swallowing me up, hugging me. I tuck my knees up and let it. I like it in here. It’s dark, and I guess it feels safe. And the longer I sit here, the more I think I can feel him in here.
His tumbler is sitting on the table beside the chair, and there’s a sip of that burning liquid in it. I pick it up, inhale. Then I put it to my lips and swallow the few drops that are left. I don’t know why I do this. I put the glass down and lay my head on the back of the chair.
It’s so quiet here. So still. I wonder if he comes in here in the evenings. If this is where he relaxes. If this is his chair. I can almost smell his aftershave lingering among the scent of leather and whiskey and paper.
What is wrong with you?
I give my head a shake, rub my face. I get up, take a turn around the room, pull a book out, read the title, put it back.
After some browsing, I go to the window. It’s wrought iron and looks out over the backyard. I check the time, then take another round, this time stopping at the podium-like table against the wall. I turn on the light there, and it illuminates the large world atlas on top of it. It’s an old one. I open it, leaf through some of the pages, liking the old maps, the smell of the paper. That’s when I come across something strange. Maybe a bookmark, I think, and I turn to the page. It’s a map of Italy. Southern Italy, to be precise. I pick up the bookmark. It looks like an old Polaroid. I turn it over and gasp. Because the image I see is of a girl. And I know who she is right away. It’s her. His tutor.
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