Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

Anya

T he dress Saverio chose for the wedding we’re attending fits snugly over my curves. He told me it was perfect when I tried it on in the boutique, but I find it too tight.

I turn from side to side, studying my reflection in the dressing room mirror. The red silk shows off the roundness of my stomach. The halter neck exposes my shoulders while leaving my back bare. It’s impossible to wear a bra, and my nipples are clearly visible.

I don’t know the dress code for family weddings, but the gown definitely shows too much skin.

Saverio walks into the room, wearing a modern three-piece suit with a crisp white shirt and a silver tie. The jacket and slacks are the latest fashion, accentuating the bulk of his muscles. As always, his only jewelry is the small gold hoop in his ear and the smartwatch on his wrist .

My mouth goes dry as I take him in, how powerful and fearless of both life and death he seems as he stalks toward me, but the hunger that sparks in his eyes when he cuts a path over me with his gaze makes my belly flip. He can reduce big men to shivering puddles with one, cutting glance. Those icy blue eyes that he trains like weapons on others never melt for anyone. I’ve never seen him look at another person with kindness, admiration, or affection. When he interacts with people, his expression is either neutral or threatening.

Yet with me, it’s different.

When he walks to me with the purposeful stride of a hunter, the frost melts and the magnificent blue of those pools warms to the color of a summer sky.

It’s been like this ever since I admitted I won’t shoot him. He proved the point by fucking me with a gun laying right next to me, within my grasp. I won’t kill him even if he puts the weapon in my hands himself.

Why?

Because without him, I’m dead. He’s both my jailor and my protector.

I don’t speak when he stops in front of me. My brain is incapable of forming words. I’m too busy processing this new development—that my captor gives me something he gives no one else. It shouldn’t make me feel special, but my heart has been at war with my mind since the day Saverio crashed into my life. The most shocking part is that I like this feeling of being favored. God knows, I’ve never been favored, not even by my mother. The only person who treated me as if I weren’t trash was Livy.

He cups my hips between his broad palms and stares down at me like a man possessed by the sight in front of him. “You look like a goddess, tesoro .”

Any reservations I had about the dress fly out the window. My heartbeat picks up, keeping time in my temples. Saverio makes me feel many things. Fear, for starters. Uncertainty. Chaos. But he also makes me feel desirable and cherished. Powerful. Strong.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong, and despite the many wrongs of belonging to him, deep in my heart, it feels right too, like this is exactly where I want to be. A part of me wants to submit to this uncontrollable frenzy, no matter the consequences. He makes me so drunk on him that I don’t care about the price I’ll pay when this folly crashes and burns to ashes around us. All I want at this moment is him.

That’s why I don’t protest when he brushes his knuckles over a nipple, turning the tip into a hard point that changes the way the fabric drapes over my body. It turns from elegant to erotic, the shape of my naked breasts a portrait painted in red.

“Anya,” he says with a growl as he fixes his attention on the points that extend almost painfully.

My breasts are so sensitive even the soft caress of the silk sends a sharp arrow of desire straight to my core.

When he says, “Turn around and kneel on the bench,” I don’t argue.

I don’t waste time in denying the inevitable any longer. I’m as invested in this game as he is. I can walk away from it now as little as he can. We’re trapped in this insanity, and our only choice is to see it through to the end.

He spins me around when I don’t move immediately, his impatience raw and palpable. I need another minute because the moment is huge. It’s a turning point for me. Instead of fighting a losing battle, I embrace the new craziness of my life. I haven’t realized how inhibited and trapped I felt until now, until I’m soaring with power and freedom as I lift the skirt of the dress and climb onto the bench.

“Eyes forward,” he says.

I meet his steely gaze in the mirror. His words remind me of the night he fucked me in a parking lot with his men standing in a circle around us and his hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my sounds. I could barely think through the fog of desire that clouded my brain, let alone care about the audience with their backs turned to us as he fucked me so hard my body shifted over the hood of his car. When I remember how he held me against his chest as if I were something fragile and precious in the aftermath of our frantic sex, I turn warm and soft inside, my muscles already welcoming the pending intrusion.

He takes my wrists and places them on the vanity counter, encouraging me to hold on. Then he moves his attention to my backside as he slowly pushes the dress over my hips and up to my waist.

He traces the elastic of my thong with a finger and clicks his tongue. “Naughty girl. Did I not tell you not to wear panties?”

I vividly remember the order he gave me. He said it was because he wanted to fuck me in the dress before taking me to the wedding.

“I can hardly go to a wedding without underwear.”

“You know what I think?” He caresses my globes with a warm, calloused palm, causing goosebumps in the wake of his touch. “I think you like to be punished.”

My inner muscles clench at the promise.

A shiver runs down my spine when he picks up the hairbrush and tests it by slapping the flat end against his palm. The sharp sound as the wood connects with his flesh sends a thrill through me that turns me wet instantly.

A second passes, heightening the anticipation. When he finally brings the brush down on my left globe, I jerk as much from the surprise as from the sting. A hiss escapes my lips. It hurts more than when he uses his hand.

“I’m going to tan your ass until this pretty skin is red all over,” he says, rubbing away the burn. “Every time you sit down tonight, you’re going to think about me and how deep my cock was buried inside you.”

The dirty talk only makes me more needy. I hold my breath, waiting for the next blow, but he takes his time, dragging it out.

He slips his fingers beneath the elastic of the thong at the back and twists his wrist, pulling the triangle of fabric tight between my legs. The friction makes me whimper. The second swat falls on my right globe, heating my skin. My desire skyrockets.

“Sav.”

“I know what you need.”

He tightens the lace more and pulls at the same time. I almost come from the stimulation, but then he loosens his hold and delivers another smack on my ass that sets my nerve endings on fire.

He times the swats to maintain a steady pace. He’s keeping his strength in check, because the blows he delivers don’t hurt enough to make me want him to stop. They cover every inch of the skin on my globes and heat me on the outside as well as the inside. By the time he’s done, I’m desperate for release.

I moan when he finally drops the brush. He doesn’t bother to remove the thong. He grips the elastic in both hands and snaps it as if it’s nothing but a thin piece of thread. His gaze is fixed on my ass as he unzips and takes out his cock. He positions the crest at my opening before spreading me open with both hands. My back arches as he slowly sinks inside, stretching me until his groin is flush against my ass.

A moan slips free when he starts to move. He pumps with a slow, steady rhythm, catching my gaze in the mirror before looking back to where our bodies are joined. I watch him as he fucks me, imprinting the picture of how mesmerized he appears in my mind. Pleasure is drawn in stark, harsh lines on his face. He makes a stunning portrait as he slides in and out of me while devouring the act with his eyes.

It’s not until he wraps an arm around my waist and cups my stomach in his broad palm that he looks at my face. When he moves his free hand between my legs and rubs my clit, I come while staring into his eyes. He picks up his rhythm, chasing after his own release and making me ride the aftershocks that rack my body until I sag in his hold. He anchors me against him with his fingers splayed over my stomach and his other hand between my legs as his body goes taut and he spills his release inside me.

The kiss he plants on my naked back is tender. Reverent. In different circumstances, I would’ve seen too much into that kiss. I could’ve easily interpreted the gesture as a token of deeper feelings. But the lingering caress also holds a note of regret that warns me of his intention before he puts distance between us.

He grabs a wad of tissues from the box on the vanity and pulls out. His release leaks from my body and runs down my thighs while he watches with concentration. I don’t move. I let him take his fill, secretly enjoying this unexpected power he gives me too.

He wipes the wetness from my inner thighs and discards the tissues before zipping up. Then he grasps my hips and carefully helps me to my feet. I stand on wobbly legs, studying his reflection in the mirror .

“Don’t clean between your legs,” he says, pinning me with a smoldering look. “I want you to feel me inside you with every step you take.”

“I probably smell like sex.”

“Good.” He grabs my hair in a ponytail at the base of my neck and twists it around his fist while giving me a possessive smile. “Then everyone will know you’re mine.”

My heart pounds out an erratic beat, one that’s simultaneously hopeful and fearful. It feels as if I’m balancing on the edge of a cliff with the wind whipping around me. It can either push me over or pull me back, depending on the direction from where it comes.

“Why is that important?” I ask. “Is it part of the show you’re putting on?”

Thud, thud. Thud, thud.

Silence.

The only sound is the thumping of my heart in my ears.

When he finally speaks, his voice is flat. “Yes.”

I go over the cliff, my stomach bottoming out as I plummet to the ground where disappointment waits like sharp rocks to impale my body and to stab right through my chest.

“Because my life is yours,” I say, tasting the bitterness of that statement on my tongue.

“True.” He turns me with his hands on my shoulders to face him. “But it’s also to keep you safe.”

After quickly washing his hands in the bathroom, he gives me my wrap and my clutch bag, takes my hand, and pulls me behind him to the door.

The slickness between my legs and the lingering burn under the skin of my glutes are no longer sexy, wild, and adventurous. He eradicated everything with a few cold words, reminding me of my place in our reality .

He’s broody in the car, so much so that I don’t dare to speak. I shift in my seat to find a more comfortable position for my sore bottom while staring through the window. I hitched up the dress at the back so that I don’t spoil it. If he gets a cum stain on his leather seat, he only has himself to blame.

He doesn’t drive long before pulling up at a mansion in Park Slope.

I shoot him a glance. “This is so close to your house we could’ve walked.”

Our eyes lock. Once again, it’s like before, when he fucked me, and nothing existed but the moment and us.

Taking my fingers in his, he presses a kiss on my knuckles in an old-fashioned, gentlemanly manner. “With those heels on your feet?” He lets me go. “I’d never be so cruel.”

The connection between us snaps as he slides from behind the wheel and gets out of the car. His attention is already trained on the house when he helps me from my side. I don’t miss the tense set of his shoulders or the hard line of his jaw.

A tingle runs down my spine, nerves twisting my insides.

Several expensive cars are parked in the street. Saverio intertwines our fingers and leads me to the front door.

A valet asks if Saverio would like him to park his car somewhere safe, at which he gives him a clipped no, barely sparing the man a glance as he ushers me up the steps. A hostess opens the door and tells us to make ourselves at home in the backyard where drinks are served.

I look around as we cross a big foyer and an enormous lounge. The house is decorated with contemporary art and furniture, the accent colors red and black, but it seems cold and empty like a show house that lacks any signs of living .

Sliding doors lead to a covered terrace. The late autumn day is mild, but I’m grateful for the wrap that I pull around my shoulders to cover my nipples.

People mingle around cocktail tables on the lawn. The women are dressed in evening gowns and most men wear tuxedos. At the far end of the garden, a gazebo stands on a small stage. Chairs decorated with white ribbons and cream roses face the gazebo.

A waiter offers us champagne, but Saverio declines.

“Juice?” he asks with his head bowed down to mine even as he scans the crowd with his gaze.

“Um, please.”

A few people turn their heads our way. We’re the talk of the gathering as we go to the bar on the other side of the terrace. Suppressing the urge to fiddle with my dress, I square my shoulders and walk with my head held high next to Saverio. All the while, whispering reaches my ears.

Despite doing my best to ignore the attention and trying to blend in, I’m sure everyone can see right through me. I’m not one of them. These people were raised with money. They wear it like a general wears his stripes on his sleeve.

At the bar, Saverio orders orange juice and brandy. He hands me the juice and downs his drink in one shot.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, watching him carefully.

He’s been tense ever since we left his house, but his jaw is set in an even harder line now.

“Yes,” he says in a curt tone.

His words from earlier come back to me, that claiming me as his is as much for my safety as for our public act.

I swallow. “Am I in danger here?”

His eyes soften. He forces a smile, but even that takes its toll if the strain etched on his face is anything to go by .

Cupping my cheek, he says, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I look beyond him to the guests milling on the lawn. Luigi and Giorgio aren’t among them. “Other people here may have different ideas.”

His pale blue gaze pierces mine. “They can try. I won’t let them succeed. Anyway, this is a wedding. The family has a strict code of conduct when it comes to significant events.”

“Meaning you don’t kill people at religious gatherings?”

His smile comes a little easier this time. “Religion has nothing to do with it.”

I open my mouth to ask what makes the difference when Dante appears next to us.

“Anya, how good to see you.”

He leans forward to kiss my cheek, but Saverio grabs his bicep and yanks him back viciously before his lips can touch my skin.

“Jesus, Sav,” Dante says with a startled expression. “You need to get a handle on your jealousy, man.”

I swear I can hear Saverio’s teeth clack together.

“Touch her and you’re dead,” Saverio says in a cold, harsh tone.

“Relax, buddy.” Dante raises his hands and takes a step back. “I’m off.”

This is so uncomfortable.

Shaking my head at Saverio, I say, “You’re behaving like a caveman again.”

He flashes me an unfriendly smile. “Dante knows the rules.”

“Really?” I prop a hand on my hip. “You have rules about how to greet each other’s girlfriends?”

Saverio’s voice is flat. “It’s simple. No touching.” Turning a frosty gaze on Dante, he says, “Therefore it shouldn’t be difficult to remember.”

Dante rubs a hand over his nape and pulls a face. “I feel sorry for you, Anya. My sincerest sympathy. However do you deal with this ass—” He cuts himself short with an apologetic glance at Saverio. “With this hardheaded mule?”

Saverio gives him a tight smile. “Are you done?”

“All jokes aside.” Dante pauses before asking in a meaningful manner, “How are you?”

From the way Dante searches Saverio’s face with a probing gaze, I have a feeling there’s more to that question. It’s almost as if Dante expects Saverio to be upset about something.

“Fine,” Saverio bites out.

“Good.” Dante studies Saverio from under his lashes. His tone takes on a cautious note. “Luigi sent me to find you. He wants the men to have a drink with Raphael before the ceremony starts.”

“A toast?” Saverio raises a brow. “You can go on without me. There’ll be plenty of time to drink to the newlyweds’ happiness after they’ve tied the knot.”

Dante shoves a hand in his pocket and balances on the balls of his feet. The stance seems relaxed, but like Saverio, he’s stressed. Tension emanates from him as he watches Saverio for a beat before saying, “It’ll send the wrong message if you decline.”

“That I don’t accept Raphael as one of us?” Saverio chuckles. “Here’s a newsflash. I don’t.”

“Come on, man.” Dante slaps his shoulder. “This isn’t the time. I share your sentiments, but you know how it works. Put your hostility aside for a few hours.” He continues with a smile aimed at me, “I’ll steal him away for a short while. ”

Turmoil shows on Saverio’s features. His knuckles turn white around the empty glass in his hand.

“Let’s get this over with,” Dante says, stepping sideways.

A war battles in Saverio’s eyes as he looks at me. His internal conflict rages for a couple of beats before he seemingly comes to a decision and puts his glass down on the table.

Not breaking our eye contact, he says to Dante, “I’ll be right there.”

Dante doesn’t appear convinced, but he gives a single nod and wanders off to the end of the terrace before disappearing into the house.

Wrapping his broad palm around the back of my neck, Saverio pulls me closer. I stare up at his face. Our bodies aren’t touching, but the hairbreadth of space between us is charged with electricity. Goosebumps run down my arms.

“Will you be all right?” he asks, holding my gaze with his signature intensity.

The answer slips in a breathless whisper from my lips even though I don’t mean it. “Yes.”

He brushes his thumb in a soothing caress over my nape. “I won’t be long.” He motions with his head toward the top of the terrace. “My men will be right there.”

I look toward where he’s indicated. Two guards wearing dark suits and earpieces stand at either end of the terrace with their hands folded in front of them. I recognize them from the detail at Saverio’s house. I didn’t even notice they’d followed us. Sunglasses obscure their eyes, but I can feel their gazes on me.

I turn my face back to Saverio. “I’ll be fine.”

Dragging me flush against him, he lowers his lips to my ear and asks in a deep, low voice, “Do you still smell like me between your legs? ”

An involuntary gasp escapes my lips.

He puts distance between us before I can find my bearings, the momentum almost making me lose my balance. He holds me steady with his hand on my nape, only letting me go when I’ve found my feet. The loss of his heat is like a blanket of comfort that falls away. The air grows colder.

A cocky grin curves his lips as he no doubt sees the reaction his words elicit. For the life of me, I can’t think of a fitting comeback.

Having achieved his goal, which was a reminder of who owns me, he stalks away.

It takes a moment to gather my composure. Where we’ve been alone at the bar not a second ago, I’m suddenly surrounded by people who compete for the barman’s attention. It strikes me then how no one dared to approach us when Saverio was present. They were literally walking circles around him.

I move to the side where I’m out of the way, sipping the juice as I scan the crowd while trying to look as if I’m having fun when the opposite is true. Nervousness ties my stomach into a knot. I’ve never been good with big groups, and I’m awkward at parties. I glance around, searching for numbers and exercises I can do to calm me. A seating plan is pinned on an easel at the end of the bar. I add the table numbers and do the habitual multiplications and subtractions in my head when a woman says behind me, “Well, well.”

Something about the smoky voice and the tone she uses makes the hair on my nape prickle. I turn around and come face to face with a tall, slender woman with hair as black as coal and eyes so green it’s impossible to forget the color. It looks as if her silver lace dress is painted on her body. The glittery fabric leaves little to the imagination, revealing the silver bra and panties underneath. Saverio had a good understanding of the dress code after all.

“So you’re the flavor of the month,” the woman says, trailing a gaze over me.

I do a double take. “Excuse me?”

The way in which she evaluates my dress as if she’s estimating the price tag and the sour smile that stretches her red-painted lips rub me up the wrong way.

She pauses for a second on my stomach before looking at the champagne flute of orange juice in my hand. “In which strip club did he find you?”

I can’t be hearing right. “Are you talking to me?”

She smirks. “You came with Sav, didn’t you?”

I look at her face. With her high cheekbones, full lips, and flawless olive skin, she possesses all the qualities of classical beauty. It’s a pity she seems to be a bitch on the inside.

Straightening my back, I say, “I don’t see how who I came with is any of your business.”

She gives a little laugh, her voice suave like velvet. “Oh, the strippers Sav drags to my cousin’s wedding are very much my business, darling.” She pulls her eyes into slits and steps into my space. “Your type isn’t welcome here.”

A red flag pops up in my mind. She’s Elena’s cousin? That makes her family of Luigi and Giorgio. Still, that doesn’t give her the right to speak to me like that.

I lift my chin. “Actually, Sav and I just moved in together. I’m his girlfriend.” My smile is bitchy. “Who exactly are you?”

Tilting her head, she looks at me as if I’m the muck under her shoes. Animosity sparks in those jewel-like eyes as she cocks a hip and says, “I’m his wife.”