19

Valentina

I text Summer to take my babies for their nightly walk through campus. Apart from Amber, Summer is the only one they will allow near them. I know Enzo is going to flip his shit when he finds out they’re on campus, but right now it’s the safest place for them.

Summer: No worries babe, Emma and I are heading over right now. I’ll look after your babies. xx

Me: I owe you. Love you boo. xx

Summer: Love you & have fun! Haha

We pull up outside his gated estate, the guard posted out the front standing to attention, as though royalty is arriving. As Giovanni steers the SUV up the driveway and parks, I can’t help but wonder what sins I’m going to get punished for. I have a few on my belt, but only one left that truly counts. I cannot allow myself to die before I avenge my mother’s murder. I have to play my cards right. In this game of mob world politics, an eye for an eye just doesn’t cut it. Revenge and death go hand in hand, and I wonder if I’ll see one out before the other.

I follow him dutifully through his well-stocked garage. This is every playboy’s dream garage, from Aston Martin to Maserati, wank bank central right here. We enter through a mudroom and into the kitchen. He doesn’t speak to me as he strides through his house, his footsteps long and purposeful.

I stop at the kitchen island and cross my arms, waiting to see how long it takes him to realize I’m not following him.

Three.

Two.

One.

He halts his steps, turns on his leather shoes, and glares at me. Without speaking, he takes a few steps toward me and gives me no warning. I let out a small scream of surprise as he twists and throws me over his shoulder.

“Giovanni,” I protest and brace myself against his hips with my hands.

He strides through his house and up a flight of stairs, turning left at the end of a long hall, into a darkened room. He throws me onto a bed and I bounce from the impact, disorientated from the lack of light.

“Strip to your underwear, Principessa.” His voice is commanding and it has taken on a whole new level of authority.

Heat rushes straight between my legs and I clench my thighs together. “Fuck off.” I test him to see how far I can push his monster.

The need to feel pain, like in the fighting ring, has me wanting to defy him in every way possible.

A light flickers on, its golden glow illuminating the large room, sending sinister shadows dancing across the walls. Everything in here is black, from the carpet to the furniture. Black walls frame the moonlight outside the large windows and black drapes weep from the ceiling. I’m starting to see a pattern where everything to do with this man is charred in black.

He stands, dominating the area at the end of the bed, his black shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the veins on his forearms on delicious display. He bends down and places his hands on either side of my legs and stares at me.

“If you want, I can throw you to the wolves and let them have at you? Or we can play this my way. Which way will it be, Principessa?”

I watch his mouth as his tongue darts out and moistens his lips. “I don’t really have a choice here, do I?” I raise my eyebrows.

“On the contrary, the choice is entirely yours.” His voice vibrates through my chest, sending shivers up my spine.

“And if I choose the wolves?” I quip.

“You’ll not see the light of another day. Killing a consigliere is punishable by slaughter. I’ve dismembered people for less.” His cool tone chills me.

“As I said, I don’t have a choice.” I scoot back onto the bed and away from him. His proximity is clouding my head.

“Are you afraid of me, Principessa?”

“I’m not afraid of anyone, Giovanni,” I say his name with a condescending tone.

His hand flies out like a snake strike and he grips my throat in his strong fingers. The veins in his forearms protrude as he squeezes tighter, blocking my airflow. I wrap both my hands around his wrist and will him to squeeze harder, beckoning him with my eyes, to show him I’m not fucking afraid of him.

He lets go of my throat, and I suck in air as I cough and wheeze.

“Fear keeps people balanced. If we don’t fear, we don’t feel. And if we don’t feel, we lose ourselves to the dark.” He stands upright and slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing a chiseled torso covered in tattoos, and a sprinkling of chest hair. His muscles ripple as he moves to take his shirt off before he discards it on the floor.

I swallow, taking in all that is this man before me. He’s rugged and masculine, his scent is intoxicating, weaving its magic over me. I feel a low throb between my legs and try to fight it. I can’t be this turned on by someone who is meant to be my enemy.

“Are you joining me in the dark, Principessa?” He cocks his head to the side, a dark glare pointed at me.

I nod in agreeance, afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll try to deny him and that’s the last thing I want. I need this man to consume me, I need him to make me forget my demons and take me to a place darker than hell.

“Strip,” he growls, as he moves around the bed to a black chest of drawers.

Ripping off my top and sliding my pants off, my heart beats like a tribal drum, steady and loud, as I watch him with curious anticipation.

Opening and closing each draw, he finally finds what he’s looking for and walks toward me with a length of rope dangling between his long agile fingers. A look of pure evil plastered on his face.

“On your knees at the edge of the bed, Principessa,” he instructs, the low drawl of his voice depraved and intoxicating. He watches me carefully, waiting for me to obey him as I sit on the bed, unmoving. “I won’t ask again.”

I hesitate and eye the rope, uncertainty tainting my judgment. Struggling to hold on to the last bit of my control, I do as he asks, speculation winning the tug of war playing in my mind.

He drags the tip of the rope along my collarbone and down my nipples, sending tingling vibrations through me. He continues his pleasurable tease and skims the rope between my legs, bringing it up the back roughly, and smacking me hard. The sound echoing around the room, and the sting burning my skin. I gasp in response and my nipples harden from the pain.

“Do you trust me, Principessa?” He asks but doesn’t wait for my answer, as he glides the rope around me.

Leaning over me, his woodsy cologne invades my senses, and I have the urge to tilt forward and lick his chest. To run my tongue over his tattoos. But I stay still and silent, waiting, and wanting his delicious punishment.

He bends and twists the rope gracefully, his hands working fast, his breathing even and controlled. He loops the rope between my legs again and pulls, the burning against my skin is almost painful, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek and peer up at him through my lashes. I watch him as he continues to weave the rope around me, securing my wrists and arms behind my back, before looping the rope through my parted legs and tightening it.

I try to move but I’m secured in this position with my arms pulled tight behind me and my legs spread. I look up at him as he watches me, admiring his handiwork.

“What now?” I ask.

“Now you’re going to tell me why you’re killing my men.” He leans down so we’re eye level, his features are a shaded mystery.

I shake my head at him and take in a deep breath. “Never.” I narrow my gaze.

He stands to full height and reaches into his pants pocket to take out two small gold clamps. Circling them in his fingers, he snakes his eyes over me, taking in my defiant look. In one swift move, he reaches out and pulls down my bra so my breasts bulge free, my nipples already hard pebbles.

“You’re going to have to talk eventually.” He studies my breasts before he clamps both my nipples with the two little gold devils.

Instant pleasurable pain shoots through my body, diving deep into my core. “Fuck,” I hiss, and struggle in my constraints, the rope burning my over-sensitized skin, adding to the pain already flowing through me.

Bending down, he stares into my eyes, a wicked smirk plastered on his devil of a face. “You okay there, Principessa?” He flicks one of the clamps, sending shooting pains through my nipple.

“Fine.” I grit my teeth, not wanting to show him how much I’m affected.

“So, tell me. Why are you killing my men?” He straightens and walks back to his chest of drawers, shuffling through the goodies in there.

I watch him carefully, wondering what torture device he’s going to bring out next. The only sound I can hear is the thudding of my heart in my ears, and the deep breaths coming out of m,e as I struggle with the sting in my nipples. My mind is a confusing mess, and it’s working overtime figuring out if it’s turned on or just in pain.

He saunters back to me, his muscles rippling as he moves, his skin glistening under the low light. “We’re starting slow, Principessa, I want to see how far I can take you until I break you.” He slaps the leather whip against his palm.

My eyes bulge at the sight of the whip and I tense in anticipation.

“It only hurts a little.” He winks at me.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I spit. My blood singing in my veins as I watch him stalk to the side of the bed.

A loud crack echoes through the room and I feel the sharpest of stings across my stomach, making me drop forward from the pain. “Didn’t even hurt?” I groan as I sit back up and throw him a shit-eating grin.

He flicks the whip at my ass, the noise is like a hollow boom, as it ricochets around the room. The sting is bearable this time, but it sends a pleasurable ache between my legs, the throbbing intensifying as I move against the ropes.

I hear his movements as he pads across the floor and moves back to the drawers, reappearing in front of me, holding a knife in one hand and a vibrator of some sort in the other. He steps forward until his knees are against the bed. He runs the knife tip from my ear, down my neck, and over my shoulder. The tingling left from the tip of the blade giving me goosebumps.

I swallow in anticipation as he glides the knife across my collarbone and down between my breasts, cutting through my bra fabric like its butter. My breasts bounce free, the movement causing friction from the clamps. A small and barely audible whimper escapes my lips and I curse myself. I don’t need him to know this is turning me on.

He continues to glide the blade down my stomach until he reaches my navel, pressing the tip into it enough, to send waves of pleasure to my betraying clit. I watch his features disguised in an impenetrable mask, as he cuts my panties from my body, letting them fall to the bed.

His dark gaze catches mine. “I think I recall you liking getting fucked by a knife.” His wicked smirk resembles something sinister, and his words are threatening.

I continue to hold his gaze as I feel a cold thin blade against my opening, it’s gone in a flash and replaced by the vibrator.

“Eyes on me,” he whispers, reminding me he likes to be in control.

I watch him as he pushes the vibrator into me, and positions the suction perfectly over my clit. I know I’m about to be in a world of agony, as I try to not come undone. Just the touch of his hand down there has nearly ruined me, and he’s yet to turn this fucking contraption on.

‘Ready?” He licks his lips.

I cock an eyebrow, and try to remain in control, as he switches the vibrator on. The suction is instant, and I nearly buckle from the sensation, as waves of pleasure ripple through me. I can feel myself already quivering, my body betraying me as shudders start to slowly wrack my body, starting at the base of my spine and working their way upwards. I close my eyes and grit my teeth when the sensations suddenly stop. The fucking bastard isn’t going to let me come.

My eyes fly open to come face to face with a very satisfied devil. He tilts his head as he takes me in, my sweating and jittery body on full display for him. I snake my eyes over his muscled chest and find his hard cock straining against his pants. I’m happy he’s also being tortured by this.

He twists the knife in his hand, the blade catching the glint from the lights, blinding me for a split second every time his hand moves. He taps the blade to his lips, studying me, and pondering his next move. Without speaking, he slides the blade over my breast and presses the tip into my already throbbing nipple. Nicking it with a sharp flick of his wrist.

I throw my head back as the throbbing becomes almost too much. I feel warm wetness and glance down at my breast.

“You fucking cut me.” I glare at him.

“And you fucking love it.” He grins, as his blade glides under the length of my tattoo on my ribs, pressing hard enough to slice my skin. “La Morte Vince Tutto,” his voice licks at the words giving them new meaning. “Death conquers all. That’s a bit morbid.”

He continues to glide the blade over my other breast and rests it against my hardened nipple. “Don’t move.” His other hand reaches between my legs and I freeze.

Darkness washes over him, coating us both in shades of evil. He switches the vibrator on and I do all I can not to move, clenching my insides, my body aching for release. He flicks the blade over my nipple, and I nearly collapse from the agonizing pleasure.

I strain against the ropes, my legs tethered apart, and buck forward, feeling as though I’m about to leave my body. The vibrator stops suddenly and I’m left slumped forward, breathless, and covered in a sheen of sweat. I’m so mad I want to stab him with his fucking knife.

“Have you had enough yet, Principessa?” He grabs my chin between his thumb and finger, and lifts me back to a kneeling position, ensuring I’m looking at him.

“I’ll never spill my secrets.” I pull my chin out of his fingers, defiant as ever.

“Your funeral, baby girl.” He mocks the name Leonardo calls me, and this makes me see red.

“Fuck you, Giovanni,” I seethe, the anger in me boiling through my veins.

He reaches down, removing the vibrator from me and curls his lips around one end, licking it clean, before dropping it onto the bed.

“Tell me, Principessa, what do you plan on doing when you get caught again?”

“Same as now, I’m not saying shit about shit.” I slice my eyes to his chest and try to ignore the pleasurable pain dripping down my stomach.

He reaches out and touches my nipple, undoing one clasp and then the other, and dropping them onto the mattress beside me. He runs his fingers over my bleeding nipples, tracing my blood across my chest and down to my navel. I glance down and look at his masterpiece, a painting of my defiance in bold red, smeared in thick blood across my body.

“Do you like the sight of blood?” He places his finger in my mouth and pumps it in and out between my lips.

The tang of metal coats my tongue, and I drink in his sultry stare. He removes his finger from my lips and flicks my nipple, sending spots of blood over my stomach and chest. He pops his finger in his mouth this time and licks it clean.

“I like the sight of my victim’s blood,” I reveal.

“Tell me then, why the blood of my men?”