Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

A my

The next morning, I sat at my kitchen table, staring at my phone, the screen lighting up with Zoey’s last text message. My head still buzzed faintly from all the wine we’d had the night before, but the memory of her words was crystal clear.

He’s Italian. Hot as sin. Mafia, probably.

Someone like that wouldn’t just stumble into a gallery by accident. If he was connected to the mafia—or the art world in a meaningful way—he could be a powerful ally for us against the Orlovs. Or, at the very least, someone who might buy a few expensive pieces and help boost our gallery’s reputation.

And maybe, just maybe, it would give me a little leverage in Aleksei’s world.

Maybe that would make us even.

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I finally typed out the text.

What’s his name? The Italian guy you mentioned.

Zoey responded almost immediately.

Leonardo Santini. Why?

I hesitated, chewing on my bottom lip as I thought about how to frame my answer.

I think he might be interested in some of the pieces at the gallery. I’m going to arrange a meeting.

A few dots appeared on the screen, and then her reply came through:

OMG. Are you seriously going to approach him? He’s dangerous, Amy. Like… might-be-mob dangerous. Just saying.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

I’ll be fine. He’s not the only dangerous man I know.

Zoey sent back a string of laughing emojis and a gif of a woman fanning herself, but I didn’t reply. I was already opening my email app, drafting a message to the gallery’s client relations team to start setting up the meeting.

The idea of doing it on my own had started as a small, rebellious thought. I didn’t want to be just the girl on Aleksei’s arm or the employee following his lead. I wanted to show him that I could handle myself, that I wasn’t some fragile thing that needed protecting at every turn.

I could do this. I could make connections, close deals, and prove that I was more than just a liability in his dangerous, complicated life.

But even as a plan formed in my mind, there was a nagging voice at the back of my head, warning me of the risks. Santini wasn’t a regular client. He was in the mafia himself potentially, and that could be incredibly dangerous for me to navigate on my own.

Still, the temptation was there. I hated the idea of waiting for permission, of being told to stay out of something because it was ‘too dangerous.’

If Aleksei could navigate this world, why couldn’t I?

I decided to tell him after all.

I stood outside Aleksei’s home office. I hadn’t sent the email to Santini yet, and I’d thought about it, but the idea of doing this without telling him felt… wrong.

So, here I was, about to tell him everything and either get him to call me a good girl for my ingenuity or get pinned over his knee for a hard spanking. I wasn’t sure how this was going to pan out.

Taking a deep breath, I tentatively knocked on the door.

“Come in,” his deep voice called.

I pushed the door open, stepping inside to find him in his chair, a stack of papers spread across his desk. His eyes lifted to mine, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

“Baby girl,” he murmured. “To what do I owe this visit?”

I stepped closer, my heels clicking softly against the floor. “I have an idea for a client,” I began, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. “Someone I think could bring in significant business for the gallery.”

His brow lifted slightly, and he set the papers aside, giving me his full attention. “Go on.”

“There’s a man, Leonardo Santini. Zoey mentioned him. He’s known in the art world—buys a lot of pieces, always in cash. He’s wealthy, connected, and has the kind of influence that could help us.”

Aleksei’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

“Santini,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Italian. Mafia connections, if the rumors are true.”

I nodded. “Exactly. Which is why I think we should approach him. He could be a valuable client and he might be able to help us with the Orlovs—if we handle it right.”

A long silence stretched between us, the weight of his gaze pressing down on me.

“You’re bold, baby girl,” he said finally, his voice low and measured. “But you’re playing with fire.”

“I know,” I said, meeting his eyes. “But isn’t that what you do every day?”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, though his eyes stayed serious.

“It’s different for me,” he said, standing and rounding the desk until he was right in front of me, his towering presence making my heart race. “I’ve spent years building my network, earning trust, securing alliances. This is more than just my world. This is my life.”

“That’s why I’m telling you,” I said, lifting my chin. “Because I want to help.”

He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the conflict in his eyes—the mix of pride and frustration that always seemed to surface when I pushed back against his authority.

“You impress me,” he said finally, his voice softer now. “But this isn’t your fight. Santini has ties to men I don’t trust, and if you get caught in the middle, I won’t be able to protect you the way I want to.”

“I don’t need protection,” I argued, though the truth of his words made my stomach twist. “I need to prove that I can handle this.”

His eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, his hand sliding around my waist to pull me against him.

“Then listen to me now,” he commanded. “You’re going to stay out of this.”

“Why? It’s a good idea, Aleksei. You said yourself that Santini has connections. He could bring a lot of value to the gallery—and to your business. He could even help us against the Orlovs potentially.”

“It’s not about whether it’s a good idea,” he said, his tone calm but unyielding. “It’s about you stepping into something you don’t fully understand. Santini is dangerous, and you don’t have the experience to handle someone like him.”

“I wasn’t planning to go in blind,” I argued, crossing my arms. “I was going to set up the meeting, do the research, handle it professionally?—”

“And what?” he interrupted. “Handle it alone? Did you consider contacting him without telling me?”

My throat tightened, and I looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“Maybe,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe,” he repeated, his tone filled with quiet disapproval. “You didn’t trust me enough to handle this with you. Is that it?”

I swallowed hard, shame bubbling up inside me. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you,” I said quickly. “I just… I wanted to prove that I could handle it on my own. That I could be useful.”

His expression softened just a fraction, but the steel in his gaze remained.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me, Amy,” he said. “But going behind my back—even just thinking about it—is unacceptable.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat as he reached out, his fingers tilting my chin up, so I had no choice but to look up at him.

“You know what happens now, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate.

My breath caught, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “Aleksei, I?—”

“You’re going to be punished,” he said, cutting me off. “Not because you had a bad idea, but because you thought you could handle this without me.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I… I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“I know you are,” he said, his thumb brushing against my jaw. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you need to learn a lesson, baby girl.”

I bit my lip, my cheeks flaming as I tried to process what he was saying. My emotions were a chaotic mix of frustration, shame, and something darker—something that made my stomach flutter and my pussy clench despite the situation.

“Do you trust me to handle this, Amy?” he asked, his voice softening just enough to make my heart ache.

“Yes,” I answered, the word escaping before I could even think.

That was the thing. I did trust him.

“Then you’re going to let me teach you,” he said, his hand slipping to the small of my back, guiding me closer. “And next time, you won’t even think about not coming to me first. Isn’t that right?”

I nodded, my pulse racing as I looked up at him. “Yes, Aleksei.”

“No,” he corrected, his lips curving into a faint, wicked smile. “Say it properly.”

My breath hitched, and I felt my cheeks burn hotter.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said softly.

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to my forehead.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now let’s discuss how exactly you’re going to learn from this mistake.”

My heart pounded as Aleksei’s hand slid to the small of my back, his touch firm and deliberate. Without a word, he took my arm, turned and guided me out of his office, his grip steady and unrelenting. I followed, my breath shallow, the anticipation swirling in my chest making my pulse race.

The moment we entered his bedroom, the door clicking shut behind us, he released me, his commanding presence filling the space. The room was dark and intimate, illuminated only by the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the tall windows.

“Strip,” he said, his voice low and firm, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

I blinked, my cheeks flushing as the word sank in. “What?”

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there was no impatience in his gaze—only control, unyielding and absolute. “You heard me, baby girl. Take off your clothes. All of them.”

My breath caught, and I hesitated. His dark eyes locked onto mine, daring me to defy him, but there was no anger in his gaze—only the promise of what was to come if I disobeyed.

Slowly, my hands moved to the hem of my shirt. My fingers trembled as I pulled it over my head, the fabric slipping to the floor. I paused, glancing up at him, but his expression didn’t waver. He was watching me like a hawk, his gaze roaming over my body with a hunger that made my skin prickle with heat.

“Keep going,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.

My cheeks burned as I reached behind me to unhook my bra, the straps sliding down my shoulders as I let it fall to the floor. I hesitated again, my fingers hovering over the waistband of my pants.

“Amy,” he said, his tone a warning. “All of it.”

I exhaled shakily, pushing the rest of my clothes down and stepping out of them until I stood before him completely bare, the cool air of the room sending a shiver down my spine. I crossed my arms instinctively, trying to cover myself, but he stepped closer, his hands gently brushing mine aside.

“No hiding,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a line down my jaw. “Not from me.”

I nodded, my breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing against my temple before he stepped away. He moved to the bed, pulling a length of silk rope from the drawer of the nightstand. My pulse quickened at the sight of it, my nerves and excitement colliding in a dizzying wave.

“Lie down,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

I obeyed, climbing onto the bed, and lying back against the soft sheets. He stood over me, the faintest smile curving his lips as he took in the sight of me, vulnerable and exposed beneath him.

He leaned down, his hands working quickly and skillfully as he secured my wrists to the headboard with the silk rope, the fabric soft but firm against my skin. He moved to my ankles next, tying them apart so that I was completely open to him, my body trembling with both fear and desire.

When he finished, he stood back, his eyes raking over me with a dark intensity that made my cheeks flush.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he said softly, his voice like a caress. “Completely at my mercy.”

I swallowed hard, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I tried to process the vulnerability of my position. I had never felt so exposed, so powerless—and yet, I had never felt more alive.

“Now, baby girl,” he said, his tone firm and possessive as he leaned over me, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re going to be punished. It’s going to hurt. You’re going to scream for me and I’m going to enjoy every single second of those screams as you come and beg and writhe for me.”

My body tensed, my heart racing as his words sank in. I tugged at the silk ropes, testing the strength of his knots, half hoping they would give way, half hoping they wouldn’t.

The fabric didn’t budge.

He watched me struggle with his dark gaze. My defiance only seemed to amuse him, his lips curving into a faint, maddening smirk, as if to say, “ You can fight all you want, little girl, but you’re not getting away .”

That smirk set my blood on fire—half with anger, half with unimaginable desire, and I couldn’t make it stop.

“Still fighting,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of that maddening confidence. “Good. I like your fire, baby girl.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words died in my throat as his fingers brushed against my skin, feather-light and exasperatingly slow. He started at my collarbone, tracing a path down to my sternum, then over the swell of my breasts. His touch was barely there, like he was teasing the air just above my skin, and it made me arch involuntarily, straining for more.

“Patience,” he teased, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he watched me squirm. “I’m going to take my time with you however I please.”

His fingers trailed lower, down the line of my ribs, then over the soft curve of my stomach. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the whimper threatening to escape. The way he touched me wasn’t rushed or demanding. It was deliberate, calculated, like he was savoring every inch of my body.

“Such soft skin,” he said in a low rumble that sent a thrill straight through me. “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you, baby girl? Every little touch drives you mad.”

I hated how right he was, hated the way my body betrayed me under his touch. My breaths came faster, my chest rising and falling as his fingers brushed over the inside of my thigh, slow and torturous. I clenched my fists, my frustration building with every teasing stroke.

“Please,” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

His hand stilled, his eyes snapping up to meet mine.

“What was that?” he asked, his tone deceptively soft.

Heat rose in my cheeks as I tried to look away. “I said… please,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “But not yet. I want you begging properly before I give you what you want.”

His fingers continued their slow, agonizing exploration, tracing patterns on my thighs, my stomach, my hips. Every touch sent sparks racing across my skin, building the tension inside me until I felt like I was going to snap.

But despite the rising need within me, my body held strong.

The moment his thumb brushed over my left nipple, a soft gasp escaped me. He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of my neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against my skin.

I bit back a moan, squirming under his touch as his fingers pinched together and then he did the same on the right side. A sharp sting flared up, followed by the warm glow of pleasure that washed over me. I cried out, arching into him, my eyes squeezing shut as the sensation overwhelmed me.

When he finally released me, his fingers brushed over the sensitive peaks of my nipples, his touch sending a rush of heat through me. He smiled, his eyes dark and hungry as he watched me, my chest heaving, my skin flushed.

“Tell me, baby girl. Did you think I wouldn’t listen to you?” he asked, his voice low and measured.

I hesitated, the truth of his words sinking in.

Did I really think he wouldn’t hear me out?

Or did I just not care because I wanted to do it on my own?

Before I could respond, he moved, his palms brushing over my breasts, the touch gentle and deliberate, before he gripped my nipples between his fingertips and twisted them hard. I cried out, the pain searing through me until I closed my eyes and arched my back off the bed.

“Answer me, little girl. ”

“Yes,” I gasped, the admission spilling from me before I could stop it. “Yes, I did.”

He gave another twist, the sensation shooting straight to my core.

“Bad girl,” he murmured.

I bucked against him, the ropes biting into my skin.

Another twist, another cry.

Then, almost mercifully, he released my nipples, only a second wave of pain followed that caught me off guard and I moaned at the feeling of it.

He reached over to the side drawer in the nightstand beside the bed and opened it. I turned my head, watching as he reached into it and pulled out a handful of small trinkets. When he held one up, I recognized it immediately.

It was a set of nipple clamps, and he didn’t have just a single pair.

He had three of them.

Which meant… No. My thighs tensed as I tried to close my legs, but with my ankles tied tight, they barely moved an inch.

He couldn’t mean to… to…

I couldn’t even think it.

I focused back on the clamps and gulped with nervous energy.

They were silver and gleaming, and my stomach pitched forward just thinking about them punishing my poor breasts. I shrank backwards as he reached for my left breast, palming it, and rolling his fingers over my nipple before he opened the clamp and put it on me.

I cried out, the sudden pressure terrible and unyielding. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was definitely uncomfortable, and the fact that he had two more to go was making me more than a little anxious.

I looked at him, searching his face for a hint of sympathy, but his eyes were dark and intense, focused solely on his task.

He continued with the second; the expected flash of pain radiated across my right breast, and I flinched. The second was worse than the first, the ache sharper, but there was nothing to do other than for me to take it, to suffer through it because that’s what Daddy had decided I needed.

“Would you have met with Santini without me, baby girl?” he pressed, and I chewed the inside of my cheek.

“I…” I started, then stopped, unsure of how to admit the truth without making things worse.

“Don’t lie to me, baby girl,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against my jaw before it descended to circle my clamped nipple. “Tell Daddy the truth.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek harder, debating whether I could soften the truth, but the look in his eyes told me he already knew the answer.

“Yes,” I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought about it.”

His jaw tightened for a brief moment, but then he exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable.

“I see,” he said, his voice calm but laced with something dangerous.

“Aleksei—” I began, but he cut me off with a firm look.

“Do you know why that’s a problem, baby girl?” he asked, his tone still measured, but there was an edge to it now that made my heart race.

“Because… because it was reckless,” I said, swallowing hard.

“Because it was reckless,” he agreed, leaning in closer, his face only inches from mine. “I’ve told you before,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, “you’re mine. And that means you don’t make moves like this without me. Ever.”

My cheeks burned, a mix of shame and defiance flaring inside me. My nipples throbbed and I shifted, trying to alleviate the pain, but nothing would make it better.

“I wasn’t trying to go behind your back,” I said softly. “I just… I wanted to prove that I could be useful.”

His lips quirked into a faint, almost amused smile. “Baby girl, you don’t need to prove anything to me. You’re already mine and I love every single thing about you.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. But before I could process it, his fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear.

“You should know, though, little girl, Daddy isn’t going to be gentle.”

A shiver ran through me, the promise in his words sending a mixture of fear and excitement swirling in my chest.

His hands trailed down my body until they found the clamps on each of my nipples. Without warning, he tightened them, the pressure increasing until it was nearly excruciating. I cried out, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as the pain washed over me.

Then he lightly slapped each breast.

It wasn’t enough to truly hurt, but it was more than enough to send a jolt of pain through me, and I writhed, trying to escape the sensation, but the ropes held fast. He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.

“Now,” he whispered, his voice filled with dark promise, “It’s time for me to spank this sopping wet pussy bright pink.”

His hand dropped between my thighs and before I could even think about twisting or turning away, the flats of his fingers came down on my sensitive flesh with a wet-sounding splat.

I gasped, the sting hitting me in an instant.

He’d slapped me there before, but this was different. Before, he had been just getting my attention. But right now?

He was punishing me.

Aleksei’s fingers were callused and strong, and the pain was sharp and intense, leaving no room for relief. With each blow, I felt myself losing control, my cries filling the room as he relentlessly punished my sensitive pussy. Before long, the flesh between my thighs was burning from each biting slap and I writhed, trying to avoid each blow but somehow managing not to evade a single one.

The stinging sensations built on top of each other until they were almost too much to bear, but still, he didn’t stop.

“Daddy!” I cried out, the word a plea and a prayer. “Please, Daddy! I’m sorry!”

He didn’t stop. If anything, the blows between my thighs came even harder. Faster.

“Beg for me,” he growled, his voice deep and rough with lust. “Beg for me to make you come.”

“Please, Daddy,” I begged, the words coming out in a strangled sob. “Please make me come. Please, Daddy, please.”

He used his fingers to spread my pussy open and then he slapped between the lips, directly on top of my clit and before I could stop myself, I was coming.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing as the waves of pleasure rolled over me. “Let Daddy take care of you.”

My body shuddered and shook, the orgasm taking hold and leaving me gasping and crying out for him. He slid a finger between my folds and thrust it inside me, his thumb rubbing circles over my clit. I arched, my hands and ankles straining against the ropes as I screamed, my eyes rolling back in my head as wave of wave of burning heat crashed over me.

As I came down from the high, he continued stroking me, his fingers working their magic and pulling every last shudder from my exhausted body. I collapsed, the ropes biting into my wrists and ankles as the final waves of pleasure ebbed away.

Then he spread me open with his fingers once more and put the final clamp directly on my over-sensitized clit.

I screamed, the pain and pleasure blending together in a white-hot inferno that threatened to consume me. He tightened the clamp, his eyes fixed on mine, daring me to break.

And then, he switched it on.

It started to vibrate.

Like really fucking vibrate.

My eyes nearly rolled back in my head as he leaned over me and kissed the top of my forehead.

“Now, Daddy is going to go make a few calls and you’re going to lie here and wait for me. You may come if you like, or don’t, but either way, when I come back, I’m going to finish your punishment with my cock.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded, and Aleksei rose, leaving the room and me to lie there, my thighs spread, the vibrator on my clit, and the pain of the clamps still throbbing through me.

My eyes squeezed shut, the tension coiling within me as the vibrations pulsed through my clit. I tugged at the ropes, desperate for relief, but there was none to be had. All I could do was surrender, my body betraying me as the pleasure built.

And then the vibrations got stronger.

Fuck.

I gasped, arching off the bed, the ropes digging into my wrists as the pleasure and pain collided. I was so close, the need coiling inside me, begging for release. I couldn’t take it, the intensity overwhelming me, the sensations coursing through me.

And then, suddenly, the vibrations stopped. Then started again. Then stopped. Over and over again until I was mindless with pleasure.

I collapsed against the mattress, breathing hard, my skin slick with sweat. My whole body trembled, the need still coursing through me, unfulfilled.

What was he doing?

Was he really going to leave me like this?

As the moments passed, the silence stretching around me, I grew restless. My muscles ached from the tension, my pulse racing, the desire building inside me until I couldn’t stand it.

I needed release.

More than anything though, I needed him to come back and then I needed his cock.

I didn’t even care which hole he fucked.

My mouth, my ass, or my sopping wet pussy.

I just needed him.