10.1

“What?”

“You get one request.”

“One whole request. How generous,” I tear off a bit of bread-the knife is still on the floor-and shove it in my mouth. I figure if my mouth is full, I can’t speak.

Giovanni watches me in fascination. He hasn’t spoken one word since I told him who fucked my face up. He’s sat across from me too busy with his phone.

“Valentina.” Papa looks agitated and frustrated with me for not taking this arrangement seriously.

“I’m not siring heirs,” I say with my mouth full of bread. I stare at Giovanni, waiting.

“Not an option.” Papa grips his whiskey glass and takes a long drink.

I’m about to explode in anger, but I stuffed my face so full of bread that I can barely swallow it. I chew as fast as I can, and I’m sure everyone is getting a lovely view of what is in my mouth, but I don’t give a fuck at this point. No man is going to tell me what I will and will not do with my body.

Giovanni’s dark gaze finds mine, and I can’t read him. His face remains emotionless, like this conversation means zilch to him. Of course it does; he’s the male. He’ll get what he wants in the end, no matter who he tramples or murders in the process.


“My one requirement is that Valentina is to live with me, in my house.” His eyes don’t leave mine, and we are locked in a dance of wills. He appears as though he is daring me to rebut his request.

I finally swallow the lump of bread, nearly choking myself in the process. “I’ll live with him, but I’m not having fucking kids, Papa.” I grip the table in anger, now disgusted that the one man in my life, who’d promised he would look after me, would put me in this position.

“Rimanere zitto,” Papa says calmly, the timbre of his voice vibrating through my shattered soul.

I feel the tears welling inside me, but I don’t cry. I don’t let any fucker see me cry. I so badly want to throw the plate of antipasto at my Papa’s face, but I sit on my hands instead, like the good little Principessa he wants me to be. I just need to bide my time and focus on my revenge. This engagement is merely a little hiccup in the road to redemption.

“I have shit to do.” Vito stands abruptly. He takes the two steps to me and kisses me on top of the head. “Love you, sis. I’m so sorry,” he whispers and strides out of the dining room,

As though the last five minutes haven’t taken place, Papa and Tommaso carry on with their discussions, leaving Giovanni and me to stare at each other over the plates of food. I chug my drink, needing it more than ever, and wish it was something stronger. I thwack the glass onto the table, making Giovanni cock an eyebrow.

“I need a bathroom break,” I announce to no one because it seems I’m invisible. Papa and Tommaso don’t even acknowledge I spoke. I push my chair back, grab a piece of salami, and escape the staleness of the dining room.

I head to the powder room near the front entrance and close the door behind me. I lock myself in the toilet and hope they forget about me. Finally, I finish peeing and flush the toilet, watching the swirl of the water to take up some more time before I have to go back to that hell hole. I open the door and standing in the powder room is my dark nemesis.

With his broad shoulders, dark ink creeping out from the neckline of his t-shirt, and the dangerous gleam in his eyes, he looks like every woman’s daydream and every father’s nightmare. He stalks toward me, his size taking up most of the space in here.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I blink up at him, momentarily distracted by the anarchy swirling inside me.

“Don’t pretend to be dumb.” His glare roots me to the spot.

My words stick in my throat.

“Finally lost for words, Principessa?” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk.

“No fucking way,” I push at his chest. I can feel his muscles tense under my fingertips, and I keep my hands on him longer than necessary.

He reaches up and swipes a rough finger across my lips, smudging my lipstick in the process. I wrench my head away from him. The way my body reacts around him is completely wrong.

His fingers grab my chin, and he jerks me so I’m looking at him again. “Are you going to fight me, Principessa?” The bass of his voice is soaked in cynicism.

“Until the day I sign my life away on that dotted line.” My heart skips in my chest. Whether that’s from anger or excitement, I’m not sure.

He steps forward and I step back until my ass hits the vanity, neither of us taking our eyes away from the other.

“You’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

“I think we should keep the cutesy name-calling for when we’re officially married.”

“I think you’re stalling the inevitable,” he replies, his smirk turning into something sinister.

“And what’s that?” I push him for an answer I know all too well. I am stalling because the way I am feeling with him this close to me is a complete and utter betrayal on my part. I am supposed to hate him because of who his father is, yet here I am, confused as fuck with the way my body is reacting to him.

“If your fuck buddy gets a little action, then don’t you think I should too?” He leans in until his lips touch the sensitive part below my ear. “I have eyes everywhere, Valentina.” His warm breath sends shivers over my skin, eliciting urges I wish I could control.

I swallow the lump in my throat and don’t answer him. I don’t acknowledge what he just said. Better to be quiet than try to deny with lies.

“Cat got your tongue, Valentina?” Giovanni’s voice comes out all husky. He brushes his stubble across my jaw until his lips hover over mine, barely touching them. Our eyes are locked on each other.

“I just know when not to speak in order not to incriminate myself, Giovanni.”

He leans back a little and his gaze drops to my mouth, sending sparks straight between my legs. Fuck.

“Are you okay there, Principessa?” He smirks, the bastard. He’s so much more experienced in this than I am, so he is well aware of the effect he is having on me.

I nod in response.

“Open your legs.” His command is final. His tone has taken on a different level of authority, and it sends all warmth southward.

“I don’t think so.”

In one swift move he places the bread knife, one I didn’t realize he had on him, on the vanity and grabs my waist and deposits me on my ass. “I don’t take no for an answer.”

“I didn’t say no.” I stare at him. Jesus, what am I thinking here?

“Take your panties off.” He leans in, a flash of hunger dancing across his predatory features.

“You take them off,” I say defiantly. Two can play this game. I’m not one to be ordered around.

With a quick dart of his hand, he snatches up the serrated bread knife and lifts my dress with his other hand. “Do you trust me?” He regards me for a moment and before I can even open my mouth he has my panties in his fingers and with one sharp pull, he cuts them off me.

“I won’t ask again. Open your legs.” His voice turns vicious

For some reason, as much as I try to fight it, I do as he says. The excitement and the promise of punishing release gets the better of me. I’m going straight to hell, and there’s no turning back now.

I watch as his eyes darken a shade, if that’s even possible, and a wicked poison coats his aura. I feel like I’m getting in deeper than I want.

His large hand grips me around the waist and he pulls me until I’m at the edge of the vanity for better access. “Lean back, Principessa.” Giovanni stands to full height and from this angle, I can see why others find him so intimidating. He oozes danger like a whore oozes sex appeal. It’s all I see and it’s all I want. “Don’t make a sound.”

He runs his thumb along my opening, coating it with my arousal until he reaches my clit and presses against it. A sadistic smirk plays on his enticing mouth. I want this more than I care to admit. I want him to make me forget that I’m just as fucked up as he is. That we are one of the same.

“Are you ready, Principessa?” He pushes his thumb inside me and presses on my sensitive part, massaging it in rhythm with my heartbeat. A low moan escapes my parted lips in response, and I watch his eyes light up as he removes his thumb and sucks my arousal off.

He presses the handle of the knife to my clit and circles it and pushes the cold hard edge against me, flicking it at just the right angle to make me hiss. “You like that?” He slides the knife handle down to my opening and pushes it in, pumping it in and out agonizingly slowly at first. I watch his face as he picks up the pace, his gaze never leaving my pussy.

Fear washes over me at that point, heightening my arousal as he continues to fuck me with the handle of the bread knife. I watch him stare at his hand, and his expression both terrifies me and makes me grind against the handle seeking release.

“Make yourself come without a sound, Principessa.” His voice has lowered an octave, and he looks as though he’s fighting the urge to take me right here.

I do as he says and brace one heel up on the vanity, opening wider to him, all the while having complete faith he won’t slice me open. I circle my clit and pulsate it between my finger and thumb, the pressure already building. I watch as his breathing changes to match mine, my fingers working faster as my heart rate skyrockets. I’m so fucking wet, the sound is embarrassing.

I’m right on the edge of shattering and I don’t fucking care who hears me at this point. He looks into my eyes then and I see the devil staring back at me.

“Don’t make a fucking noise or I will slice you open,” he growls, as he presses the handle hard against me. This is all it takes to undo me, and I bite down on my lip as my orgasm rips through me. I keep eye contact with him the whole time, holding my breath to not make a sound. I feel myself pulsate around the handle as shockwave after shockwave vibrates through me.

“Good girl.” He slides out the knife handle, and I can see he’s cut his hand from the serrated edge.

I take in a deep breath that I so desperately need after holding it for so long and lean against the mirror for support, my legs still wide open. I watch him wash his hands and the knife under the tap and grab the washcloth to wrap around his hand.

“How are you going to explain that one?” I look at him, surprising myself that I’m not embarrassed for what we just did.

“I’ll tell them I saved the Principessa.”

“Like a true knight saving his damsel.” I snort and place my hand against my forehead, pretending I’m fainting.

“You’re no damsel in distress. The woman staring back at me is just as fucked up and ruthless as I am. So, why are you seeking a hero?” His expression turns cold.

“You’re no hero, Giovanni, as much as I’m no damsel.” I correct him.

I must hit a nerve because he returns to his usual emotionless self and glares daggers at me. He turns on his expensive leather boots and exits the powder room without another word.

I hop down from the vanity and quickly pick up my panties that have dropped to the floor and shove them in the bin. Grabbing the clean hand towel, I clean up the leftover drops of blood and throw the towel with the other trash before escaping back upstairs to my babies. There’s no way I’m going back to the dining room and sitting across from Giovanni after that. Besides, I know I don’t have a fucking say in anything, anyway.