Chapter Eleven

Gigi stood up and rushed into the bathroom. Shame and humiliation made her want to cry. He'd made her suck his dick and then treated her as nothing more than a five-dollar whore. That wasn't the worst. What really bothered her, what really made the tears slip from the corners of her eyes, was the fact she'd enjoyed it.

She'd relished his hand on her hair, pushing her down, taking control of their every move. She'd taken pleasure in his belittling words. Every name he called her merely igniting her flesh with more desire. It was all so wrong.

She washed her face, reapplied some of her makeup, and brushed her hair. Decent enough … if it weren't for her visible nipples and the short skirt brushing against her skin.

"Hurry up, troia," Ludovico's voice came from the other room. A shiver ran through her. She didn't know Italian, but she was certain the word was not kind. Ludovico didn't seem to know how to be sweet. All he knew were commands and obedience. It was all he expected. If someone didn't do as they were told, he'd kill them. It was as easy as that.

She opened the bathroom door. Ludovico gave her a once-over. He smirked.

"You're a delight."

"How long will this last?" she asked.

He handed her the suit jacket she'd been wearing earlier. After she put it on, he placed a hand on the back of her neck, tilting her head. Her lips tingled. Would he kiss her?

"Until I get bored with you. This evening. Tomorrow. Next week. Next month. Never. But if you keep talking so much, I might have to gag you immediately."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not joking."

She clamped her mouth shut. He pressed his mouth on hers and she moaned.

"You're not here to work. You're here to please me as I see fit. Be it doing my taxes or sucking my dick. You are my property now, Gigi, and I will use you in any way I like."

The elevator doors chimed, and he escorted her inside. Gigi glanced at him. He seemed calm, but for the tick in his jaw. Why was he so altered?

When they entered the boardroom, Gigi understood. Ludovico's brother was like him except for a few inches shorter and dark-brown eyes. He was the picture of the prototypical Italian man.

"Claudio."

"Ludovico."

The men nodded at each other, the tension in the room palpable.

"This is Geraldine Evans. She'll be taking care of the software company's accounts."

"You mean, my business." He came forward, taking Gigi's hand and bending over it. Gigi pulled back, appalled. Unlike with Ludovico, her reaction to his brother was one of utter disgust. The shorter brother chuckled.

"You pick them well, Mario."

"Not as well as you." Ludovico said something in Italian, his tone threatening. Claudio glanced at her.

"Don't worry, I won't mess with your bitch, your troia, as long as she does the job she's here to do. I can't let that company sink."

Ludovico's eyes narrowed.

"Because it's the perfect hideout for your illicit business."

Claudio glanced in her direction. His gaze dipped to her breasts, further down to her bare legs, but he quickly lifted it. "I don't know what you're talking about, and even if I did, I don't think this is a matter for discussion in front of her." His grin chilled her to the bone. "Unless you want to kill her after."

Ludovico slammed his fist on the table, spurring a set of Italian swear words. Claudio lifted his hands appeasing.

"Your temper never changes, Brother. Not a day goes by without me wondering what our father saw in you." Claudio pulled back a chair and sat down. He hooked his arms on the back of it and gave her a cool glance. "Let's get down to business. Ms. Evans, as my brother might have told you, we need to have one of our businesses excluded from the tax group it's currently in so we may claim, er, a return on it."

Gigi nodded. It was business time. No matter what else, she had a job to do.

"As we explained in my, er, ex company, that's not entirely legal."

"It makes no difference to us. Make it legal," Ludovico snapped. "Your boss said it could be done."

"I can't change the law," she said between gritted teeth.

"But you can make it work in our favor."

Gigi raised her hands in exasperation. "I don't think I can. As my boss expressed yesterday, I don't have the knowledge for this kind of business."

"You do." Ludovico slammed his hand against the table. "I have followed your work closely, Ragazza. You specialized in large conglomerates, you've been working at that firm for over seven years and haven't been promoted because some male asshole decided it so, but you're more than capable. Now, put that brain of yours to use."

Gigi stared at him. She'd expected many things from Ludovico but not for him to believe in her so passionately.

"I…" She searched for words, but they escaped her.

"You don't need to say anything. Sit. Look at the paperwork. Ask us what you need. We know our corporation. The Ludovico family takes care of their own."

Gigi nodded. Heat spread across her body. She understood he was referring to her.

****

"I think I found the loophole," Gigi exclaimed, jumping up.

Ludovico leaned over her shoulder, his warmth making a shudder run through her. She glanced up at him and his eyes softened as their gazes met.

"I knew you could do it," he whispered. His fingers brushed hers as he took the document from her hands. He scanned it quickly. "I think you could be right. This might be what we need. We'll analyze it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She blinked and glanced up. The sun was setting. Claudio had left hours ago, alleging a headache. Where had the time gone?

"Tomorrow. Now, we feast."

"I can go home?"

Ludovico laughed, the rich sound filling her chest.

"Home? No, Ragazza. My home is your home now. You will go where I go until I tire of you and either kill you or release you."

"You're sick."

Ludovico crossed his arms over his chest.

"So I've been told. I've also been called callous, heartless, an asshole, a maniac, so on and so forth. You get the gist. I didn't become head of this clan out of kindness."

"Keeping me prisoner is illegal."

Ludovico smirked.

"So is this," he replied waving the sheet in front of her. "Or killing a man. Do I look like I care? Let's go."

He opened the door and invited her to walk in front of him. Gigi hung her head. Was there any way out of this? She had become a prisoner of a maniac. A man who threatened to kill her but fueled her desire at the same time. What was wrong with her? The elevator pinged. Ludovico inserted a key and pressed a button.

"I live in the penthouse. It's easier to keep things under control if you're here all the time."

"Do you ever let go?"

"Let go?"

"Relax."

He seemed thoughtful.

"No," he finally answered. "Letting your guard down could mean death." He paused. "You might have noticed my brother and I don't get along very well."

"I picked up on something," she replied.

Ludovico sighed. "We used to be close as children, but as we grew older, my father started to favor me to take over the family business. Claudio was not pleased."

"You must be so stressed."

"Not at all." The doors opened revealing a luxurious apartment. A panoramic view which stretched for miles was visible from the large windows. The floor was clearly Italian marble, contrasting slightly with the industrial iron chandelier.

"I have everything I need. Food, comfort, a bitch."

"Love? Friendship?"

They moved further into the space, the transition almost seamless. The wrought-iron lamps gave off a warm light, illuminating a set of plush, designer black leather couches. The walls were egg white, colorful paintings hanging from them and accentuating the rest of the room.

"The love of the Ludovico family. We respect the hierarchy. That's all that matters."

"How do you know someone is not plotting against you?

"Oh, they are. They always are. That's why I have a bodyguard. That's why that man died in the alley."

"He was charting against you?"

"He defied my orders." Ludovico shrugged. "Take off your clothes."

"What?"

"I'm starting to think you're hard of hearing. Take off your clothes," he repeated slowly.

"But I'll be naked."

"Precisely."