by Bella J.
Once in the pool house, I searched through the vast amount of bathing suits which still had the tags on them. The pile only consisted of two-piece bikinis that ranged from medium coverage to none whatsoever. Made me wonder what kind of parties Gian hosted out here in his bachelor days, since he had brand new bathing suits at the ready. Not that I cared.
In the end, I opted for simplicity and chose a black set—halter neck top and high-rise bottom. I shimmied out of my panties from underneath my dress and quickly stepped into the bikini bottom, slipping it on and over my hips. The dress pooled around my feet and I reached up to pin my hair on top of my head so I could tie the straps around my neck.
Lost in thought, I moved to the oval mirror fixed against the cream-colored wall to give my appearance a once-over, only to meet Gian’s eyes in the reflection.
I yelped. “What the hell?”
He didn’t say anything. God, the man didn’t even move. He just stood there staring at me, and I had no idea how long he had been there.
I turned to face him, suddenly hyperaware of just how much skin I was showing. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”
The look in his eyes was frightening—like a hunter trying to decide if he’d tear his prey apart to get his fill or savor every taste. My skin heated, my cheeks burning as he kept staring at me without saying a word.
“I don’t know—”
“Ask me.” He took a step toward me, my mouth dried instantly, and my words evaporated from my thoughts. With a few calculated steps and eyes that darkened by the second, Gian moved closer…closer…the oxygen in the air igniting into flames that made it hard to breathe.
My back hit the mirror, and he stopped a few inches away, placing his hand above my shoulder, palm against the wall. “Ask. Me.”
Earlier, I was determined not to let him intimidate me in any way, yet here I was unable to utter a single word or form a coherent thought while he held me captive with his heated gaze. He tilted his head to the side and brought his hand up to my face, touching the wisps of hair that framed my cheeks. My body shuddered, and I held my breath as he leaned down.
“You want to know if I saw you get undressed.” His voice dipped, a low octave of seduction, his hand dropping to my waist, but didn’t touch me. “You want to know if I watched you slide your panties down before you stepped into these.” A single fingertip brushed against the waistband of the black bikini bottom, my flesh erupting into flames from a simple touch.
I swallowed, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed the movement of my throat before looking me in the eyes. “You want to know if I saw your naked breasts right before you covered them with this.” His palm dropped from the wall only to brush down the ties of the bikini I wore.
God. I tried to focus, tried to come up with something to say. But how could I if I hardly managed to take a breath with him standing so close, his wild spice scent clouding every thought, and wicked stare corrupting every instinct demanding that I fight?
He grazed his teeth across his lip, and my body felt the waves of electricity that rolled from his. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reply or even attempt to respond. It was crazy how he could look at me with amber eyes engulfed in flames, yet it still reflected the disdain he felt toward me. It was the kind of mindfuck that would take a lifetime to recover from.
Finally, I managed to find my tongue when he placed his palm back against the wall. “I’m not going to ask whether you watched me undress like a fucking stalker. You know why? Because I don’t fucking care.”
While still biting his lip, the edges of his mouth curved into a grin. “You don’t care?”
“No. I don’t.”
He scoffed and looked away, my chest rapidly rising and falling. “Then you won’t care if I do this.” Two fingers hooked underneath the strap that tied around my neck, and he tore it lose at the same time I sucked in a panicked breath.
“No! What are you—” I frantically grabbed at the black fabric to keep it from falling, but Gian caught both my hands in his, his fingers twisting and biting into the skin of my wrists before slamming them against the wall above my head. “Stop. What are you doing?” Tears burned like smoldering embers as I thrashed and fought, my breasts no longer covered and on full display. “Gian, stop!”
“You said you didn’t care.” His words were voiced menace, a low thrum of warning, and my fight was no match for his strength as he yanked my arms down, forced me to turn, and cuffed my wrists in his hand behind my back as he slammed me against the wall, the cold of the concrete piercing my naked chest like icy claws.
“Please,” I pleaded with my cheek firmly against the wall. “You’re hurting me.”
I felt his cold fingers slither into the side of the bikini bottom, and I whimpered with panic when he yanked it down with such force I was sure I would have fallen to the ground if it weren’t for him holding me in place.
“Please stop.” My tears stained the beige walls of the pool house, and adrenaline fused with ice-cold terror pumped and beat to the rhythm of my racing heart. But I couldn’t move. I tried. I fucking tried so I could run as far away from him as possible, but he had me locked in place, the bottom half of my bikini pulled down to my knees.
“You see how easy this is?” His warm breath slid across my skin, and he reached between us. The sound of his zipper blasted the taste of bitter fear in the back of my throat.
“Please,” I whispered, pinching my eyes closed, wanting nothing but for darkness to swallow me whole.
I pressed my lips together, hard, and whimpered when I felt him stroke his cock down my naked behind, saliva thickening in my throat.
“I can take you right here, right now, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it except stand here and cry while I claim what is rightfully mine. Your cunt.”
A tear rolled down my cheek, and I sucked in a mouthful of air, yet it didn’t reach my lungs as he brushed his lips against my ear.
“So, tell me, wife. Do you care now?”
I balled my fists within his grasp, my nails piercing the flesh of my palms, and I shuddered with paralyzing terror.
“Tell me!” He yanked my arms, and I cried out.
“Yes!”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I care.” My scream slammed against the ceiling, followed by a solemn silence which made me aware of the piercing ringing in my ears.
“Good.” Gian didn’t move, his hard length still throbbing with need against my naked ass. I was too scared to breathe, too afraid even to open my eyes.
After what felt like eons of hovering at the edge of my ruin, Gian let go of my hands, yet I still didn’t dare to move, refusing to turn around and look at him.
“Don’t ever fucking tell me again that you don’t care. And next time, think twice when you feel the need to provoke me. You do not have what it takes to fuck with me, Daniela.” His footsteps were hard and heavy across the floor. “You’ll do well to remember that.”
With every ounce of fear that clung to my skin like ice, I remained unmoved against the wall, tears slipping freely down my face. It was only when I heard his footsteps disappear in the distance that I allowed myself to break and collapse to the ground, sobs punching through my chest, tearing through every muscle and bone. The agony was debilitating. All I felt, saw, heard, and tasted was the fear, the terror of what just happened. Of what almost. Happened.
I crawled up against the wall, clutching my legs in front of my chest, hair sticking to my wet cheeks. A pathetic mess on the cold floor, I didn’t even try to pull myself together. It was too hard. Everything was just too fucking hard. Every tear. Every breath. It hurt so damn much, as if my soul was being ripped from my being. And with everything I had inside me, I wanted to stand up and run. Run back home and into the arms of the one man who was supposed to protect me. The man who was supposed to keep me safe. Instead, here I was, half-naked and trampled to the gr
ound because that man failed me. My father.
Through the haze of tears, I forced myself to see Alessa, to see her face, her smile, to think about the happy life she could have because of a sacrifice I was forced to make.
I wiped at my tears, my jaw clenched and eyes burning with the liquid heartache that just poured from my soul. I clutched the fabric of the bikini top and covered my breasts, shivering despite the New York summer heat. Seconds turned into minutes. Hours turned into moments. There was no telling how long I stayed there, flat on my ass on the ground, defeated and bested by the man I was so determined to keep from breaking me.
He was right. Gian was right. I did care and was a fool for thinking I didn’t.
Chapter Eight
I stormed out of the pool house with pounding rage and a throbbing cock. Fuck that little voice inside my head that told me to find Daniela and see what the hell she was up to. The moment I stepped around that corner, spotting her in the dressing room, her back toward me, and very much unaware of my presence, I couldn’t help myself. The sick fuck in me demanded I stand there, to not make a sound, and observe her every move. One could tell a lot about someone by how they acted when they thought they were alone, not being watched by the scrutinizing stares of others. It was the moment she shimmied out of those white little panties of hers, letting them drop to the floor, that I knew not even the devil himself would have been able to move me from that motherfucking spot.
I didn’t even bother to check the time before I grabbed the bottle of bourbon and poured myself a double shot. The rich taste exploded on my tongue as I slammed it back, the alcohol burning as it settled in my stomach. But it did nothing to dull the ache in my pants, my cock craving to have a pussy wrapped around it, feeling the slippery heat of a needy cunt.
I swallowed another double-shot of bourbon, my entire fucking body on edge just thinking about how much I wanted to thrust my dick between her legs. Daniela fucking Moretti. My wife. The last woman on Earth I would have chosen myself. But I’d be a fool if I tried to deny that she stirred something in me. Two-thirds hate. One-third…something else. Something that made me want to lose control. Something that turned me into a fucking animal, not caring about whose blood ran through her veins, not caring about motherfucking consent. To just take what I wanted. Take what was rightfully mine.
Fuck! Not only was this woman’s family a representation of everything wrong in this world, but now she had me teetering on the edge. She was turning me into that which I had fought against for so long. I married a woman I knew was forced into it, practically sold by her own blood. And here I was with a throbbing cock and raging lust to do to her what I pleased. To take ownership and show her who she belonged to. Me. Mine. All fucking mine.
I cringed after my third shot of alcohol and gripped the edges of the bar, willing the raging lust intensified by festered hate to disappear. But all I saw was her body—smooth skin, tempting curves, perfect breasts. God, those tits had my palms aching to feel the weight of them, and I wanted to watch her nipples harden, taste them on my tongue and suck them raw.
It was so easy to subdue her. Her strength was no match for mine as I pinned her to the wall, tearing at the flimsy bikini so I could ravish the parts of her the animal in me craved. The second I felt the soft skin of her ass against the head of my swollen cock, I bit my tongue, the taste of my own blood doing nothing to stave off the desire that infected me.
So close.
So motherfucking close. I was mere seconds away from fucking her, whether the words yes or no came out of her mouth. I didn’t give a fuck. I had lost all hold on reality, possessed by a tempestuous demon who craved ecstasy more than I needed my next breath.
“Fuck!” A fit of rage slammed into me, and I swept the tumbler with the bourbon off the bar, glass shattering, the potent smell of alcohol instantly shooting through the air around me.
Jesus, Gian. Get a fucking grip. You hate this woman, remember? You hate everything she represents. Only now…she represented me. The Silvestro name. Maybe it was time for me to see her as such.
“Hello, brother.”
I looked up and saw Darion standing across from the bar, a black suitcase placed by his feet.
“You seem,” he smirked, “frustrated.”
Forced to pull my shit together, I squeezed the edge of the counter one last time before letting go, straightening and righting my shirt. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by and see how the newlyweds were doing.”
Bullshit.
I glanced down at his suitcase. “You packed heavy for a quick visit.”
He shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I checked in for a few days.”
“Why are you really here, Darion?”
“Fine.” He tossed his jacket onto the nearby couch and walked across the room toward me. “I had to get out of the house. Without you there, there was just too much air to breathe, you know.”
“No.” I frowned. “I don’t know.”
Darion grabbed a tumbler from the cabinet and noticed the broken glass and bottle on the ground. “Did Mother never tell you not to waste food?”
“Bourbon isn’t food.”
“For me it is.” He grabbed a sealed bottle. “Speaking about food, where’s the wife?”
The pool house, crying with her panties around her knees.
“She’s around here somewhere.”
“I’d love to—”
“Darion,” I turned to face him, “what the fuck are you doing here, man? Daniela and I have been married for a day, and you thought it good to pay us a visit?”
“Good thing I did,” he gestured toward me, “because you look like shit. One day and the Moretti girl already has you unraveled.”
“I’m not unraveled.”
Darion glanced at the mess on the floor. “Uh-huh.” He rounded the bar. “Where’s Gabriela? I’d like to get settled in and go for a swim. This fucking heat is killing me.”
“Darion—”
“Never mind. I can find one of the fuck-ton of guest bedrooms just fine without the maid.”
“Third door to the left,” I called after him. “I had that room renovated a few weeks ago.”
“Fantastic.”
Darion disappeared up the stairs, and I clenched my jaw as my thoughts raced. I was no fucking fool. The only reason Darion showed up uninvited was so he could report back to daddy-dearest. Not that my father would spy on me. He knew I took my duty to our family seriously. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have married the oldest daughter of the man I despised. Darion hoped to find something he could use as a ticket to buy some time in the spotlight with our father, just like he did when we were kids. Get me into trouble so he could be the favorite child for however long it took my father to get over his anger for me. My little brother was desperate for attention, and jealous as fuck since he wasn’t the prince who would one day take the throne once the king stepped down.
Well, I’d be damned if I gave him anything to use against me. To tarnish my reputation when it came to our father. Make me look weak.
“Goddammit. Gabriela!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jesus.” I glanced at her who appeared out of nowhere. “How is that you’re always around?”
She smiled. “It’s my job to make sure I’m around when you need me.”
“Yes, well, I need you to pack up Daniela’s things and move them to my bedroom.”
“Consider it done.”
And that was another reason I cherished this woman. She asked no questions and just did as she was told, doing what I needed her to do. “Thank you.”
I rushed out of the house and across the deck, past the pool, the sun rays reflecting from the crystal water. “Daniela.” I pushed through the door of the pool house and stopped dead in my tracks when I found her dressed, staring at herself in the mirror as she tidied her hair. There was no sign of any lingering tears, and she appeared as if nothing had happen
ed in this very room a mere twenty minutes ago.
She glanced at me in the mirror, and that was when I saw it. The hate. The anger. The uncut loathing that flickered like a red-hot coal in the dark of midnight. It was there, in the amber mark of her eye, the silent promise that she would never break. Not for me, and sure as fuck not for the devil. Within the few moments of palpable silence, the beast in me didn’t admire her courage. It didn’t heed the warning in her hidden promise. No. I only saw it as a challenge. A hunt. The thrill of the chase while you tuned out all the noise, only listening to the heartbeat of your prey.
Chapter Nine
What did he expect to find? A weeping wife on the floor? A scared girl wiping tears from her face? A pathetic mess of womanhood after her husband proved just how fragile she really was while he held her life in the palm of his hand? Well, not today.
“Come back to finish what you started?”
He raised a brow at my blatant challenge. “Those are bold words by a woman whose tears still stain that motherfucking wall behind you.”
I turned to face him. “I get it, Gian. You wanted to show me who’s really in control here by intimidating me, forcing the fear of God inside me. And I’d be a fool if I didn’t fear you.”
“Wise.”
“But you’ll be a fool if you think I’ll live my life in fear of breaking.” I approached him with slow, calculating steps. “Next time you plan on raining down your authority, you’d be good to remember who I am.”
He raised a brow. “Who you are is exactly what’s the problem.”
“No. That’s where you have it wrong.” I stopped a few feet away from him. “I’m not just a Moretti. I’m the firstborn daughter a man powerful enough to elicit such strong hate in you.”
He snarled and shot his arm up, grabbing my throat. “What will it take for you to learn not to provoke me? Have you learned nothing from our earlier exchange?” He let go of me with a jerk, and I righted myself instantly, refusing to back down.