He circles me again with deliberate steps.

When he’s behind me, I’m afraid of what he’ll do. My heart is still drumming against my ribcage, my wrists already sore. I try and move my feet but I can’t. I’m stuck—completely open and vulnerable to him.

Sweat builds up on the nape of my neck. As he passes, I feel the breeze there, barely cooling my hot skin. My legs are spread just as wide as my arms. Soon, they’ll be tired.

He finally stops walking, and I hear rustling. I glance over my shoulder, but he’s in the dark so I can’t tell what he’s doing. I hear steps again. I feel his breath, the heat of his body. He’s right behind me.

A hand grips my braid and tugs back. Hard. I gasp as my face points up to the ceiling, at the red light beaming down on me.

“I promised I wouldn’t punish you again. But if you don’t keep your promises, why should I?”

“I never promised you anything,” I respond, breathless.

“You promised to be mine. You accepted this life.”

“Yes, I did. I accepted, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a mind or a will of my own.”

He pulls my braid harder, a low growl scratching at his throat. He then presses his hard body against me, knocking me off balance. Fortunately, with the chains, it only causes me to sway.

I feel something hard pressing into my back as he pushes in a little more. It’s him. He’s hard for me. He likes seeing me like this.

“I seriously want to rip you to shreds, little girl,” he snarls, bringing his lips to my ear. “But you know what’s funny?” He drags a hand around and grips my throat tight. I almost can’t breathe. Almost. “We found your armless friend,” he whispers, voice cold, taunting.

Horror strikes me. My eyes grow wide, legs shaking now. “Where?”

“He didn’t get far. And we knew he wouldn’t. He was weak. Hungry. Useless, Gianna. He was garbage, and you sacrificed your freedom for that trash.”

“Was?” My voice breaks. “He’s dead?”

When I get no response, I jerk my arms, but it only causes the chains to rattle. He pulls from me, stepping away and bringing back a cold draft. I twist my head to look for him. I can’t find him.

“Draco!” I shriek. “You killed him!” Anger builds inside me, brewing. I feel it in my core, seeping through my pores. “He was innocent, and you know it! He couldn’t have hurt you! He was only doing his job!”

SMACK!

A shrill gasp floods the room after that smack. My ass stings, and I wince, squeezing my eyes shut.

SMACK!

SMACK!

Two more. They sting so much. I ball my fingers into fists, jerking as much as I can, as if it will set me free.

“STOP!” I scream.

Another smack.

And another.

And one more.

Each one is harder than the last, all in the same area. I will be bruised. It feels hot there. It hurts. I know it’s probably welted. Bleeding.

Several seconds later and hands reach around me from behind, untying my robe. It falls open, revealing my naked front and he finally comes around to face me, jaw steeled, nostrils flared, the obedience paddle still in his hand.

He’s shirtless now. Hard and toned.

“You don’t call the fucking shots around here, Gianna!” he bellows. “You do not run anything, not even me! At the end of the fucking day, I’m the one they seek approval from, not you. I’m the fucking boss, and they all know it. You know it!” He reaches forward, cupping my breasts, squeezing to the point of pain. “You put me in this fucking position, you know that? I wanted us on the same page. I wanted us to move forward. I wanted to fulfill my promise to your father—make you mine. Make you happy here, however I could. But you fucked it up by setting him free. It doesn’t fucking matter if you believe him; I didn’t! And you ignored that cold hard fact and did what you wanted anyway!”

He snatches his hand away, bringing the tip of the paddle up to press it down on my pebbled nipple. I cry out a little when the pressure builds, fists clenching again.

“You’re a fucking monster, Draco! You will never make me happy,” I seethe.

And for some reason, when I say that, he freezes. Just briefly. His eyebrows draw together and he studies my face. His eyes aren’t as hard as they were only seconds ago. They’ve softened a touch, as if my remark was a blow straight through the heart with the sharpest of daggers.

He hardens again, though, straightening his back and stomping around me. I hear the paddle fall to the ground and he makes his way to a dark corner, returning with a sharp knife. He steps up behind me, bringing the edge of the blade to my throat.

“Maybe I am a monster,” he murmurs in my ear, “but you’re the one addicted to them.” The edge of the blade presses into my throat. It’s so sharp, I feel a sting and when something hot spills down to my chest, I realize I’m bleeding. He pulls the blade away, and then I hear a loud rip as he cuts through fabric.

My robe splits apart and he shoves each piece over so they’re hanging off my arms now. My entire back and front side is exposed. The air hits me hard, and I shiver from both the fear and the chill.

One of his hands explores my ass, gripping and pawing. He circles each cheek, and I breathe harder when I feel his other hand come around after dropping the knife. He slides it around my thigh and then between, and when his thumb skims my clit, I buckle. The chains rattle, proving I liked that a little too much.

He groans, still gripping my ass. A finger slides through my slit and then sinks inside me with ease.

“Monsters like me turn you on, niñita. Monsters like me know exactly what you need to keep you in your place. You want me to treat you dirty? Fine. I will. You can be my filthy little slut in here and the queen that reigns beside me out there. You’ll get what you want. Didn’t I promise that?”

My core clenches when he cups my pussy, but he pulls away in an instant and the sensation fizzles. I drop my head when I hear him walking again. He opens something and then returns.

I smell coconuts, sweet and strong. His hands come to my ass again, but this time he spreads my cheeks apart, lubing the puckered hole.

My asshole.

He does so almost gently and my breathing grows tattered.

“Draco, not there,” I plead.

“Yes. Here.” He doesn’t stop lubing me, making sure it’s wet enough for him to slip right in. I start to yank and twist and he pulls away, grabbing my braid again to keep me still. I feel his warm breath on my damp skin again. He’s so close. Too damn close.

His belt buckle jingles, there’s rustling, and then something hot and thick lands between the crack of my ass. It slides up and down with ease. He wraps my braid in his hand, tugging my head back and using the other hand to cup my breast.

His cock keeps sliding up and down, purposely going past the back entrance. Teasing. Provoking.

“You can’t,” I whisper, my eyes welling up with tears.

“I believe I can,” he responds, still working up and down, lubing himself up as well.

The flashbacks hit me.

Trapped in the gray cellar.

That big man with the bruised face and broken nose.

In and out. Dry strokes.

Screams and cries for help.

All I needed was help.

And the blood.

Surrounded by so much blood.

I was helpless then, and I’m helpless now. This time I really can’t fight. I’m strapped down. A hostage, all over again.

“And,” he whispers in my ear, “I refuse to be gentle.”

After he says that, he thrusts himself inside me. The galería is filled with a sharp gasp and a loud, heavy groan. The thrust is deep. He went right in. And when he’s in, he doesn’t stop. My braid is still wrapped in his hand, my face forced up. He releases a feral sound and his mouth comes down on the bend of my neck, sucking, devouring, as he strokes in and out of me.

He pumps his hips with strong, full thrusts, still cupping my breast, and then slowly sliding the oily hand around my breasts and down to my pussy, one of his fingers landing on my delicate, aching nub again.

My tears have fallen. They aren’t tears from distress. They are tears of something else. Something that I can’t describe. This isn’t as painful as the cellar. It’s familiar, but it’s not the same. And it’s like he knows it. Punish me by doing something he knows I will hate, but do it just so that I can’t resist. So that I can’t fight like I tried to do down there.

Devour me. Take me. Own me.

His way.

He fills me up with each pull and drive and my fingers curl, my legs shaking when his finger slowly swirls around my clit.

“You. Are. Mine. Gianna,” he says in my ear, still going. He releases the braid and uses that hand to clutch my face, his thumb purposely removing the tears. “I own you. You accepted me. And by accepting me, that means you will take me in any way that I see fit.”

Eyes hot, I feel myself slowly unraveling. He’s still making loops on my nub, swelling me up. I hear myself panting and moaning as he pounds hard enough for me to truly feel him.

In and out.

Swirls and loops.

My body rolls with heated desire, swimming with ecstasy and resentment. My tears come to a halt. I’m on the edge. I’m right there. So close.

And I shatter. He doesn’t stop torturing me with his fingers or his cock in my ass. He’s still pumping as I cry out my pleasure, causing the chains to rattle repeatedly with the powerful orgasm, and for his groans to grow louder.

And then I feel weak. So weak. My arms are tired, and I dangle, breathing in and out.

He stops almost immediately, but I know he’s not done. Bending down, he undoes the chains around my ankles. When he rises, he catches my eyes, and I hold his gaze, despite how hot he looks with sweat glistening on his chest or how hard and thick he is right now between the legs.

One arm is set free and it drops like dead weight. I catch myself just as he undoes the other arm.

“Upstairs,” he commands.

I look up, my feet moving before I can even process his words. I walk up the stairs with him following closely behind me. And then I crawl on the bed, on all fours, peering over my shoulder at him. His eyes spark with lust and he stalks forward, climbing on the bed and gripping the back of my neck.

He forces my face down into the comforter, grinding his cock between the crack of my ass again. “You like when I treat you like this,” he says. A statement. Hardly a question. “You like it because you don’t think. You just do. You don’t want to think about the terrible shit you’ve done. But guess what, Gianna, there is no denying it. You did it. It happened. And you did it because that’s who you are. Don’t try and blame this on guilt. You’re in denial.”

He pulls away and climbs off the bed, hustling down the stairs. I hear the water from the sink start up. About a minute later and he’s back. He flips me over and I sigh, spreading my legs for him. He’s cleaned himself up, I notice.

“Just take me, Draco,” I breathe when he perches himself on his knees. My eyes are still damp with tears.

His jaw clenches. He grips my hips and picks them up off the bed, balancing my ass on his upper thighs. He slides right in, slowly, deliberately, watching my eyes. My face. Watching me.

“You need me, reina,” he says, thrusting so slowly, swelling up inside me. My legs wrap around him, my body greedy for more. The power. The ruthlessness. “With me, there is no one to fear. No one but me. You know that.”

I don’t speak as I look into his hot brown eyes.

“Don’t. Betray. Me. Again.” Between each word he plunges harder than the last time. And just as I wanted, he gives me the power. The ruthlessness. He drills into me, bringing a hand down to my throat, fucking me like the savage I know he is.

Dominating every inch of me. Taking me like I need to be taken.

He’s not gentle or light. Nothing about him is. He is hard and cruel and merciless . . . and I love it. I want it. More and more, I want it, and I can’t help it.

His hand is still gripped tight around my throat, allowing me just enough air to breathe through each of his rapid strokes. Our skin claps, and I hear my moans getting louder, bouncing off the walls and the ceiling. He’s groaning between each breath, so hard inside me.

He’s close. I can tell.

I pull myself up, sliding right down his full length, riding him fast as I kiss him. I kiss him deep and whole, the passion burning through me, returning full force. He’s swelling up inside me as I circle and grind my pussy on his cock, my fingers threading through his hair.

He’s groaning loudly, and I can tell he wants to rip me off and push me away. I can tell he wants to fight against this—me on top. Me in control. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he grips my waist and brings me up and down on top of him. Rising up, slamming down. Repeating the actions over and over, as if he can’t get enough. He’s hitting a tender spot, one that’s already been triggered, and I breathe my pleasure past his full lips, my fingers curling even tighter in his thick bed of hair.

“Shit, Gianna,” I hear him say, and those are the last words I hear before I explode—no, we explode. He stills, so deep inside me, as I greedily swirl my hips for more, breathing raggedly, moaning and sighing. He cups my ass in his large hands, reeling me closer, as if we aren’t already close enough.

Our lips part.

Hearts thumping.

I don’t know what that was, but it was powerful. And strong. And . . . real.

Almost too real.

I drop my forehead on his shoulder, but he picks it right back up, forcing me to look at him. “Never again,” he says, low and deep. “Never go against me again.”

“You killed him,” I whisper.

His jaw ticks. “He’s not dead.”

That surprises the hell out of me. “Then where is he?”

“In one of the cells.”

I think before speaking. “What are you going to do to him?”

He studies my eyes, then he lightly pushes me off and I land on my back. He steps off the bed, standing tall, glaring down at me. “Why do you trust him?” he demands.

I look all around the room, a slight frown creasing my forehead. “I—I don’t know, Draco. I just do. He . . . saved me in there, during those first days when you weren’t here, and Pico and Bain said and did those things to me. In a way, he taught me how to survive and how endure it. If it wasn’t for him, I never would have caught your attention.”

“You already had my attention,” he grumbles.

“How?”

“You were married to a man I hated. I needed to know everything I could about him, and who he worked with. At first I wanted to destroy you . . . but then I saw you.”

I drop my gaze, focusing on my toes. “If Daddy promised me to you, why weren’t you keeping tabs on me then? I was supposed to be your future wife, right?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t want me to have you anymore. He wasn’t expressing the interest either. It’s almost like he lost his faith in me—sending Trigger Toni’s cousin to watch after me, making sure I stayed out of the U.S. for months on end, probably so I couldn’t come near him or you. I knew it was Lion, and I couldn’t even retaliate because I owed him more than my life. Let’s just say that after my father died, I didn’t care much about being married to Lion’s daughter. I wanted to be alone. All I wanted was revenge. Lion knew that. He also figured out who killed my father. Probably why he started seeing me less and less. He knew that I knew who the person was, and he knew I wasn’t going to stop until he was dead.”

My breath becomes ragged, but I draw in as much oxygen as I can, focusing on him. “Do you have proof? Pictures? Something that shows you were close to him in any way?”

“Why do you need proof? Why would I lie about this?” he asks, slightly agitated.

“Because . . . I’ve been lied to before. By a man just like you, Draco. He pretended to love Daddy, and if what you told me is true, and he killed him in cold blood, then I need to know. I can’t just go off of what you tell me. If . . . if I’m really going to stay here, and if you really want me to trust you and do what you say, I need proof. I need to know that you aren’t just saying and doing all of this to manipulate me. I still have some family out there. Friends. People still know who I am.”

“I’m sure they all assume you’re dead by now. They know Toni is. Sent his wedding band finger in a box to his family.”

Oh my God. His mom. His brother. I can imagine their horror. The tears rolling down their sad faces. “They didn’t deserve that!” I snap, rising on my knees. “They were good people. His mom was like a mother to me, too.”

“Emphasis on the word was.” His jaw ticks.

“I want proof, Draco,” I demand.

“Even with proof, you won’t trust me, Gianna.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I can be very impulsive. You’ll never know what I’ll do next.”

“You already said you wouldn’t kill me. That’s fair enough. I don’t have to know what you will do next. I’m certain I can handle whatever you throw at me. You don’t kill me and I won’t make an attempt to kill you. I have nothing left to lose but my life, Draco, and that already feels pretty worthless. What good would it be for me to run away—go back to the life I had—just for you to destroy it again? I know if I run, you’ll find me. You’ll drag me right back to you and kill anyone that stands in the way of that.”

His chin tilts in a superior way, and I know I’m right.

“So I won’t run. I will do my part. But I want proof. I want to know that Daddy actually trusted you and your father. I need that assurance. It will give me peace.”

He looks me over in my naked, vulnerable stance before pulling his eyes away. “Fine.” He picks his head up, tipping my chin. “But about what you did with the Ricci cousin . . . I won’t be able trust you anymore. You stay here. You’ll be mine, but I can’t trust you, Gianna. You cut a potential enemy loose. He could have told anyone where I was, and they could have killed me.”

I drop my line of sight to his chest. “I’m . . . sorry, Draco.”

He pulls his hand away. “Sorry won’t cut it. It’s a pathetic word with no depth. Your apology means nothing to me.” Stepping away, he looks toward the stairs and says, “Get out and go to my room. Shower and go to bed. I have things to handle tonight.”

I blink up at him, how he avoids my eyes.

Wait.

He’s serious.

He won’t trust me. He probably won’t even try to again.

He lowered his guard just a little, and I stabbed him right in the back like a fool, and now he won’t even look at me. He can’t look at me, because if he does, he might hurt me again. Or worse, become so blind with rage that he’ll have no choice but to end me.

“Draco, I—” I reach for him, but he takes another step away.

“Go, Gianna. Now. You’re lucky that was all I did to you.”

Wow. He can’t even punish me. Not like he used to. What does that mean? That he did trust me? That he actually felt something for me? Or does he still?

Maybe I’m wrong about him. He was trying to make something work between us, and I tore that right to shreds. His humanity was trying to break through, but I just sealed the cracks, leaving him drowning in the darkness again, and all for my own selfish needs. For his power. His control. His dominance, and that terror that I love feeling deep down.

I climb off the bed and walk down the stairs, purposely taking my time—hoping he’ll stop me, grab me, spank me, or do something to make him unleash the rage I’ve initiated.

But he doesn’t. I don’t get anything at all from him.

I pick up his shirt that’s down by the rails and slide into it, walking toward the tall doors. I look back when I pull one of them open, but I don’t see him. I can’t even hear him.

He’s so quiet. He’s . . . hurt. Because of me. He only wanted my loyalty, and I gave him my ass to kiss.

Shit.

What have I done?