Chapter One
Something has changed. The house doesn’t look the same as it did the last time I was here. The décor is different. It’s fresher, brighter. In the corridor, the floorboards have been stripped back to reveal a natural, pale wood. The walls have been painted an off-white color. They were gray before. Or were they blue? I don’t know why I care. It shouldn’t matter to me that the place feels more welcoming now than it did before. A prickle of envy shouldn’t stab my chest at the thought of my errant wife putting our marriage behind her and finding peace when I haven’t moved on. I shouldn’t wish we’d made this home together. A man in my position can’t afford to be sentimental.
As I walk into the living room, I realize it’s been decorated, too. There are new pink and cream throws on the sofa. I don’t recognize the floral armchair by the fireplace. It’s not my style, but it fits the room perfectly. A white fleecy blanket is draped over the back of the chair, probably more for comfort than warmth since it’s the middle of summer. A tattered paperback lies on the seat. Cherished Bride. I almost laugh. Isabella always enjoyed a good love story. How sad for her that ours was not one.
The image of domesticity the room conjures up is a perfect reflection of the woman I married. Isabella loved to read. She was more of a stay-at-home type than me, but that was part of the appeal. Even before I considered her as a bride, I thought she’d make someone an excellent wife and mother. I can’t believe I was so wrong about her.
There’s nobody in the living room, so I head back out into the corridor and work my way through the house until I eventually find my younger brother, Leo, in the kitchen. Like me and our siblings, he’s taller than average, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Usually a fan of dress pants and tailored shirts, Leo is wearing jeans and a Henley, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Leaning back against the countertop, he has a cup of coffee in one hand and a Danish pastry in the other. He’s stuffing his face as if there isn’t a dead body lying at his feet.
“You’re getting crumbs on the corpse,” I tell him as I glance down at the man I entrusted with my treacherous wife’s care. His face is a mangled mess and his sandy blond hair is matted with congealed blood. Fuck! I’ve known Rico Mancini since high school, but I wouldn’t have recognized him if Leo hadn’t told me who’d been killed.
“Oh, no! Am I messing up the crime scene?” Leo’s tone drips with sarcasm. “Will the crumbs confuse the CSIs?”
My shoulders tense. My brother can be an irreverent fucker. He knows my issue is not with him contaminating a crime scene. Law enforcement will not be setting foot on this or any other property I own. Not unless they bring the fucking National Guard with them.
“A man is dead. Show some respect.”
“You sure this asshole deserves respect?” Leo gestures toward Rico with the hand that’s holding the pastry. Even more crumbs rain down on the body.
“He worked for the family for more than a decade. He was a loyal soldier.”
It’s more than can be said for a lot of the men who previously worked under my father. When I inherited the crown six years ago, I’d just turned twenty-five. Some of the old guard thought I was too young. They didn’t believe me capable of leading the family and tried to undermine my authority. A few even defected to our rivals. I dealt with every one of the traitors, of course, but it was a bloody and exhausting exercise. Rico’s family members were among the few who never wavered from their oath of loyalty to the Volantes.
“Was he?” Leo sets what remains of his pastry down on the marble countertop next to him. He drains the last of his coffee from the cup and puts it aside. “You don’t think he betrayed you? Your orders were for him to protect Isabella, but he must have done something to provoke her into violence. Or perhaps you imagined she developed psychopathic tendencies overnight and attacked him for fun?”
No, that is definitely not what I thought. Isabella might have set me up to get shot, but murder someone in cold blood? No, I don’t believe she’s capable of that. In fact, when Leo made his second call to me when I was on my way here, I was shocked to hear she’d killed a man. As Leo says, Rico must have made her lash out. Whatever he did, he obviously crossed a line, going against my orders to treat her well.
“Do you know what happened?”
Leo shakes his head. “Haven’t watched the footage yet. Best I can tell, Isabella whacked him a couple of times. She dialed 911 and my guys picked up the call.”
I’m glad I had Leo overseeing Isabella’s captivity. He can be a pain in the ass, but in protecting our family’s interests, he’s a total professional. He runs a tight ship and the team he has working for him is second to none.
If Isabella had somehow reached the cops, she’d be in a whole different world of trouble right now. While I might have persuaded the authorities to back off from investigating her, there’s no way I could make this right with Rico’s family. If they ever find out what she did, they’ll want her head on a silver platter. They won’t give a shit that she’s the boss’s wife.
I look down at my dead soldier again and grimace. Violence is part of my everyday life. It’s in my DNA. Yet something about this scene disturbs me. Perhaps it’s because Isabella did this. I can’t believe the woman I’ve known since she was just a child is capable of such savagery.
“What the hell did she hit him with?” It must have been something heavy to inflict that much damage.
Leo tilts his head toward the sink, which sits beneath the window that looks out onto the beach. There’s a long black handle sticking out of it.
“Who’d have thought it? The first time your wife picks up a skillet, she uses it to bash her guard’s face in.”
“Isabella’s an excellent cook,” I mutter needlessly.
Leo chuckles, but I don’t share his amusement. There is nothing remotely funny about this situation. My wife’s actions have caused a massive headache for me and may have put her in danger.
“Where is she now?”
“Bedroom. She freaked out when I got here, so I sent her to lie down.”
“Good.” It’s probably best to give Isabella a wide berth until she’s had a chance to calm down and I’ve decided what I’m going to do with her.
As Leo stares at me, waiting for further instruction, I scan the room. My eye snags on a painting on the wall by the pantry. The foreground is a cornfield and in the distance there’s a red barn. It’s not the sort of picture I’d expect to find in the kitchen of a beach house.
Leo follows my line of sight and snorts derisively. “Your wife’s got shit taste in art.”
“She’s made a lot of changes around the house,” I muse. I turn to scowl at my brother. “You were supposed to keep me apprised of what was going on with her.”
“I thought you meant shit like this.” Leo waves a hand at Rico. “I didn’t realize you wanted an update every time she bought a fucking vase.”
“Of course I wanted to know she was making herself at home. I mean, where did she even get this stuff?”
Though I gave her a generous monthly allowance for clothes and shit, she wasn’t supposed to go on shopping trips. I suppose she could have bought it all online.
“You’ll have to ask her,” Leo says, “or will you leave it to the rest of us to find out?”
He’s referring to the fact I asked my brothers to tell Isabella she was being sent here under guard as punishment. Recovering from a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a deeper injury to my pride, I wasn’t in a fit state to deal with her myself.
Before I have the chance to tell Leo he’s being an asshole for throwing that moment of weakness in my face, the front door bangs shut. Seconds later, my brothers, Alessandro and Matteo, walk into the room. I asked Leo to track them down and get them over here. Both are wearing black jeans and t-shirts. Leo must have warned them they’d have a mess to clean up because they’re not usually so casually dressed.
“Fuck!” Matteo releases a low whistle. “She really did a number on him. I didn’t know she had it in her.”
I ignore the remark and his obvious admiration for my wife’s actions. “Where’s Gio?”
Alessandro shrugs. “I called the house. Mamma said he’s not been home for a couple of days.”
Gio still lives with our mother and sister in the townhouse where we grew up. The rest of us have our own apartments in New York, but we also share a mansion in Connecticut and a cabin in Maine.
“And you couldn’t reach him on his cell?”
“Kept going straight to voicemail,” Alessandro replies.
It’s annoying as hell when my brother goes off grid, but I guess he’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.
“We don’t need Gio for this,” Matteo says.
He’s right. We can handle this without involving the entire family.
“So, what are we going to do with this asshole?” Matteo nudges Rico’s body with his foot.
I tut irritably. Do none of my brothers have any respect for the dead?
“We can’t just make him disappear.” His father and brother work for us. They know Rico’s been assigned to look after Isabella. “It’ll raise too many questions.”
“We could shoot Isabella, dump them both in the ocean, and tell everyone they ran off together.” Alessandro’s suggestion comes with a grin to show he’s joking, but I still clench my fists in annoyance.
“Nobody is shooting my wife.”
The smile on Alessandro’s face gets even wider. Ever since he married his beautiful Italian bride, Emilia, the smug bastard thinks he knows how I feel about Isabella. If he does, perhaps he could enlighten me, because I am definitely unsure of the emotions she inspires in me.
“So, what are you going to do with her?” Leo asks. “You can’t leave her here, not after this.”
I roll my eyes. He’s another newlywed who suddenly thinks he has some special insight.
“Let me worry about Isabella. Just focus on what we do with Rico.”
“I say we dump him in the city,” Matteo suggests. “At the back of some strip club. We’ll make it look like a mugging gone wrong.”
“Not many muggers carry a cast-iron skillet,” Leo points out.
I flash him a glare, but it bounces straight off him.
“By the time I’m finished, nobody will work out what killed him.” Matteo gets a bloodthirsty gleam in his eye.
“Good.” I know I can trust Matteo to handle this efficiently. “Sandro, I want you to help him. You can clean up here, Leo.”
“I was meant to spend the day with my wife,” he grumbles.
“You can take her to the fucking zoo some other time.” I still can’t believe Leo wanted a day off to go gawp at a bunch of caged animals. “Do we need to talk about who the boss of this family is?”
Leo’s jaw clenches. He’s not happy with me calling him out for his attitude, but he just shakes his head. He might enjoy pushing my buttons, but our sibling rivalry will never lead to him challenging me for my position. The bond I share with him, with all my brothers, is too strong for any of them to try to usurp me.
I glance down at Rico again and stifle a sigh. “Make sure this stays between us. Nobody else needs to know about Isabella’s involvement.”
My brothers all murmur their agreement. They know if the Mancini family demands justice, I’ll be faced with an impossible choice. The first option would be to silence them, but there’s a risk that in doing so, I’ll spark a rebellion in the ranks. Paolo and Gianni Mancini are well-liked. People won’t support me getting rid of them to protect the wife I’ve exiled.
My second option would be to hand Isabella over to the Mancinis, but that’s not something I could ever do. It would make me look weak and, besides, I can’t allow anyone to hurt her. While I’d happily wring her neck for what she’s done, I will kill any man who tries to harm her.
Leaving the people I trust most in the world to get on with the tasks I’ve set for them, I go in search of Isabella. As I head upstairs, a twinge of pain grips my right shoulder. It’s so intense, I actually gasp. I raise my hand and try to massage the ache away. The spot where I was injured hasn’t hurt for several months. My doctor and a top-notch physiotherapist saw to that. Why is it flaring up again on the day I’ll come face to face with Isabella? I guess it doesn’t take a psychologist to answer that.
I walk along the corridor to the primary suite, which is where I assume my wife sleeps. Aside from being the largest room, it has a great view of the ocean. It’s a luxury most prisoners wouldn’t be afforded.
When I open the door, I’m surprised to find Isabella isn’t lying on the bed, sobbing in distress. She’s standing with her back to the wall at the right side of the room. The king-sized bed lies between us.
She’s a mess. Blood splatters streak the front of her pale blue dress. Her long black hair is matted and her vivid green eyes glisten with unshed tears. Despite the state she’s in, my wife is still incredibly beautiful. She holds her chin up as she stares straight at me. If it wasn’t for the fact her lips are wobbling, I wouldn’t know she was afraid. Her chest rises and falls slowly. Then she blows out a breath.
“If you’re going to kill me, make it quick.”
Before I can assure my wayward bride I have no intention of hurting her, the strength she’d mustered deserts her. She takes a single step forward, stumbles, and crashes to the floor.
“Fuck!”
Did she hit her head? I go to check on her. Nothing’s bleeding, but she’s out cold. I think she fainted.
“Oh, Isabella,” I whisper as I brush the hair back from her pale, tear-streaked face. “What am I going to do with you?”
[divider]Chapter Two
Isabella
When I wake, the first thing I experience is a sharp pain shooting down my arm. I’ve been lying on it awkwardly. Sitting up, I rotate my shoulder to tease the tension. It takes a moment but, eventually, the pain fades to a dull ache.
The second thing I register is surprise. I thought when Antonio appeared in my bedroom, looking like an avenging angel, that he was going to kill me. It seems, in fact, he’s taken me to his Manhattan townhouse. Though I only shared this room with him for the few short weeks that our marriage was good, I instantly recognize the warm, earthy tones of the décor. The solid wooden bed I’m lying on is so large and imposing, I’m sure it was originally built for a Viking.
The third thing that grips me is a gut-wrenching twinge of regret. I killed a man. I battered Rico with a cast-iron skillet. Even as he lay helpless on the floor, I carried on hitting him. It was horrific, but what choice did I have? The man has been harassing me for months, cornering me in different parts of the house and touching me against my will. Today, I thought he was going to hurt me. If he’d carried out his threats, he couldn’t have risked leaving me alive to tell the tale. I have to remember that if I’m going to cope with the guilt of ending his life. It was him or me.
When I get up from the bed, I realize I’m wearing a black t-shirt that isn’t mine. It’s several sizes too big and falls to the top of my thighs. At some point, Antonio must have undressed me. How do I feel about that? It’s okay, I guess. He’s seen me naked before and I suppose I should be grateful not to be waking up in blood-soaked clothing. That would have freaked me out. I’d probably have fainted again.
The curtains are open, letting light into the room. It’s obviously daytime, but is it still Wednesday or did I sleep through an entire day? I must have been completely out of it if Antonio was able to move me to his house without waking me, so who knows?
Feeling grimy, I decide to go for a shower. When I push open the bathroom door, I’m hit by the familiar scent of Antonio’s body wash. The citrus notes make me think of long walks on a summer day. I shake my head. Ridiculous. As if Antonio and I ever took the time to go for a romantic stroll.
I strip off Antonio’s t-shirt and my panties, then get into the shower cubicle. The water temperature is preset the way my husband likes it so I don’t mess with the dials, just press the button to get the water flowing. It’s a couple of degrees cooler than I’m comfortable with, but I guess it’s invigorating and I need to wake up a bit.
I tilt my face up toward the water and let it stream over me for a minute before turning to wash my hair. It’s a tangled mess and I have to rake my fingers through it to get the worst of the knots out. I know I got blood in it so I don’t dare look at the floor of the shower in case the water running off me is pink. I shampoo thoroughly, rinse and repeat until I’m finally able to convince myself I’m clean.
Switching off the water, I get out of the shower and grab a towel. I dry myself quickly and put my panties and the t-shirt back on. There might still be some of my clothes in the closet in the bedroom, but I can’t bring myself to look. Though Antonio discarded me a year ago, I don’t think I could bear it if he’s wiped away every last trace of my existence.
Leaving my hair to drip dry, I come back out into the bedroom. As I head for the door, intending to track down Antonio and find out what he plans to do with me, I spot a tray by the fireplace. Curious, I go to check it out. There’s a bottle of water on it, along with a ham and tomato sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie.
I assume the food has been left for me, so I make myself comfortable in the armchair and grab the sandwich. While I eat, enjoying how the saltiness of the ham is tempered by the sweetness of the tomato, I wonder why I’m back here in the home I was banished from. A year ago, when I made the biggest mistake of my life by letting Antonio’s enemies into the house, I thought he’d put a bullet in my head. Though I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, I knew he wouldn’t see things that way. I was surprised he let me live. Now that I’ve killed one of his men, I can’t believe he’ll be merciful again. I know how the mob works—an eye for an eye.
Perhaps my estranged husband has different plans for me. There are worse fates than death. He might intend to send me to a whorehouse or sell me to some monster who’d make my life a living hell. Or perhaps I’m being overly dramatic and he’s finally going to give me a chance to explain my side of the story.
There’s only one way to find out what’s going through Antonio’s mind. Taking a quick drink of water and a large bite of the gooey cookie that tastes incredible, I get up and go to the door. I half expect to find it locked, but it isn’t. There’s no guard in the corridor either. As I walk along the passageway and downstairs into the grand entrance hall, I don’t encounter any of Antonio’s men. I feel freer than I have in a long time. For the past year, I’ve had someone dogging my steps whenever I left the sanctuary of my bedroom. A simple walk on the beach became a military operation. This feels, well, nice, until the thought occurs to me it might be a test. If I walk out the front door, will someone drag me back inside and lock me in a cell in the basement? I know there is one. I’ve been held in it before.
It’s better not to risk it. Running from Antonio is not an option. I turn left and walk along the corridor toward the study. The hardwood floor is cold beneath my feet. When I get to the room where Antonio conducts business, I hear someone speaking. The deep, masculine voice is achingly familiar. The tug at my heart tells me I missed Antonio more than I realized. I listen for a moment and conclude he’s the only one speaking. He must be making a phone call.
Indecision grips me. If he’s busy, interrupting him might not be the best idea. Antonio has always been intensely focused on his work. I don’t want to anger him. Looking back along the corridor, I consider whether I should return to the bedroom and wait for him to come to me. No, I’m done with being at the mercy of his whims. I need to be brave and deal with him.
Gathering my courage, I knock on the door. A moment later, it opens and I swear my heart stops beating. Antonio’s impressive frame fills the doorway. He isn’t wearing a jacket and tie for once. The top button of his shirt is open and the sleeves are rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms. His dark brown hair is immaculately styled. With his cellphone pressed to his ear, he looks pissed at my intrusion.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he tells whoever he was speaking to before ending the call.
He looks me up and down, his cool blue eyes raking over my bare legs. “Isabella.”
The way he drags my name over his tongue sends a delicious shiver down my spine.
“Antonio,” I acknowledge him in return. “Am I disturbing you?”
For several long seconds, he doesn’t answer. He just stares at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. “Yes, Isabella, you are.”
Nodding, I turn to leave. A firm hand on my arm stops me. I look down to where Antonio’s touch sears my skin.
“Come into my office. We need to talk.”
He releases my arm and moves back into the room, leaving me to follow. He goes to sit behind the large wooden desk. As I take the seat opposite, Antonio places his cellphone in the desk drawer and locks it. He’s always been paranoid about someone tampering with his phone.
It’s hard not to think back to the last time I was here, facing Antonio’s four brothers as they informed me I was to be sent away. Only Matteo, who I’ve known since elementary school, tried to calm my fears with his sympathetic glances. The others would have happily strangled me on the spot, even Gio, who’s so sweet it’s hard to believe he’s part of the mafia.
“You’ve made a hell of a mess, Isabella.” Antonio’s admonishment drags me back to the present.
“I know, but…”
He holds up a hand to silence me. Will he not even listen to my version of events? Disappointed, I snap my mouth shut.
“You don’t have to say a word. I know Rico threatened you, put his hands on you. I watched the video.”
Hope sweeps through me at the note of regret in his voice. Perhaps he won’t punish me for killing Rico. Then I realize what he said and frown.
“What video?”
“You didn’t think I left you there without surveillance?”
My entire body bristles with indignation. It was bad enough having guards making sure I didn’t go anywhere or see anyone without Antonio’s approval. Now I find out I was being monitored by cameras as well.
“You’ve been watching me?” I knew there were cameras placed discreetly at the front and back doors, but I didn’t realize there were any inside the house.
“Not me personally.” Antonio’s tone is tinged with disdain. Of course, he wouldn’t waste his own time spying on me.
“Then who?”
“Leo and his guys.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s such a violation of my privacy and I hate the thought of a cocky asshole like Leonardo Volante judging my every move. He’s always been my least favorite of the brothers, although I have to admit he was kind to me when he found me with Rico’s body.
“So, where was your surveillance when that creep was following me around, making lewd suggestions?” I demand. “Is it true you told Rico he could do whatever he liked to me?”
Antonio stiffens, his shoulders pulling back. “I gave him strict instructions to treat you with respect.”
I believe him. You can’t fake the outrage I hear in his voice.
Antonio scowls at me. “You seriously think I gave him free rein to do whatever he wanted to you?”
“I guess not.” Now that I think about it, I never really believed Antonio would permit that. It wasn’t because I imagined for one minute he actually cared about me. Something primal motivates men like Antonio. “I knew you wouldn’t allow another man to touch your property.”
Antonio doesn’t react when I describe myself that way. The arrogant swine actually believes I belong to him, since he put a ring on my finger. I grew up around men like him. Their mindset regarding women is stuck in the Middle Ages.
“If you suspected he was acting against orders, why didn’t you ask one of the other guards for help?” Antonio steeples his fingers as he mulls over his own question.
“They’d stick together, act as if I was being hysterical.”
Antonio nods, apparently realizing I’m right. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Contacting him hadn’t seemed like an option. I doubted he would help, considering he hadn’t spoken to me since the night he was shot.
“Why would I call you, Antonio? It was quite clear you wanted nothing to do with me.”
As he rises from his chair, I grasp the edge of mine, digging my fingers into the dark green leather. What is he doing? He comes around to my side of the desk and leans back against it. He cups my cheek with his hand. It’s a tender gesture, at odds with the dark desire in his eyes.
“Oh, Isabella, where did you get the idea I want nothing to do with you?”
Fuck! His smoldering gaze makes my pulse race. My clit throbs as I imagine his hand trailing lower, exploring my body. I picture him parting my legs and caressing me through the lace of my panties and then pushing a long, thick finger inside me. Just the thought makes me wet.
“Did you eat the snack I left for you?” Antonio asks.
The unexpected question jolts me from the salacious thoughts I was having. “Uh, yes.”
“You don’t feel unwell? Faint?”
Where has this concern for my welfare come from? He’s spent the entire year demonstrating he no longer cares about me. Perhaps he’s worried I’ll pass out before he has the chance to tell me what he intends to do with me.
“No, I feel fine.”
A wicked grin crosses his lips. “Then I want you to stand up, remove your panties, and bend over the desk.”
“What?” The command startles me. “Why?”
“You remember our wedding night?”
I remember it vividly. It would be impossible to forget the night I lost my virginity to the last man I ever expected to find myself married to. Though I’d been around the Volantes since I was a child, Matteo was the one I was friends with. I’d never thought his oldest brother would end up asking for my hand. Not that he actually asked. He summoned my father to a meeting one day and told him he was going to marry me. Since nobody argues with the head of one of the most powerful mob families in North America, my father agreed.
Antonio was the scariest man I’d ever encountered, but our wedding night wasn’t the ordeal I’d anticipated. Despite his gruff demeanor during our brief courtship, he took care of me, ensuring I was ready for him. He’d been so tender I’d deluded myself I was living in some sort of fairytale, despite his ominous warning that he’d spank me if I stepped out of line. I assume that’s the threat he wants me to remember now.
“Of course I do.”
“Then you recall I said your actions would have consequences?”
I snort derisively. “Are you planning to spank me for what happened a year ago, or for defending myself against a man who intended to rape me?”
He actually flinches at the accusing tone of my voice. Antonio sanctions acts of savage violence on a regular basis, but he can’t bear the thought of a woman being taken against her will.
“Neither. Your exile was punishment for your treachery, and I commend you for dealing with Rico so thoroughly.”
Well, that was unexpected. He sounded genuinely proud of me for standing up for myself.
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say.
“What I’m going to spank you for is dialing 911.”
I still haven’t worked out how Leo Volante interrupted my call, but I have to admit I was relieved when he turned up instead of the police. Though I’ve always feared the man, I knew he would take care of things.
“You can’t punish me for that. I panicked.”
“Panic leads to mistakes. You need to learn to keep a cool head.” He removes his watch and sets it down on the desk. My heart thuds. “A spanking will remind you to remain calm under pressure.”
He’s basically suggesting he can train me to react to situations the way he wants me to through fear of being punished. I’m sure he is capable of programming a person’s behavior, but I’m equally certain I can prevent it from happening.
“And if I refuse?”
He spreads his arms wide. “Then you know where the door is.”
Surprise forces a gasp from my lungs. “I can leave?”
After a year of captivity, that seems too good to be true.
“Of course. Nobody’s forcing you to stay here.” He smiles darkly. “But you may want to consider what lies outside of these four walls.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you leave, you will no longer enjoy the protection my name offers. The Mancini family will come looking for answers. I hope you’re ready for them.”
It’s shitty of him to hold that over me, but I don’t bother to tell him that. Men like Antonio operate in a murky world. He’s used to coercing people into doing whatever he wants. He won’t give a damn if I call him out for being a bastard.
“You know I’m not.” I sigh resignedly. “You really want to spank me?”
Antonio nods. “It will help establish how things are going to be from now on.”
“How will things be from now on?”
Antonio bares his teeth in a feral grin. “You will assume all of your duties as my wife, but you will not be permitted to leave the house or have guests without my approval. You will obey my instructions without question, accept any disciplinary measures I impose, and share my bed. Of course if you ever cross me again, I will not be merciful.” He pauses, giving me a moment to absorb what he’s just said. “So, are you going to do as I asked, or should I call you a cab?”
I can’t prevent myself from releasing a sound of disbelief. He’ll call me a cab? It’s Antonio’s way of letting me know if I reject his terms, I’m truly on my own. He’s not even offering to have me driven somewhere, which is kind of brutal. It’s not as if I have a place to go. My parents haven’t contacted me at all in the past year, so I doubt they’d be waiting with open arms if I left Antonio.
Going out into the world alone isn’t an attractive option, but I’m not sure the prospect of living here with Antonio is any less frightening. Though he said my exile was punishment for betraying him, I can’t believe he would let go of that so easily. Whether he intends to or not, he’ll probably continue to make my life hell for the stupid mistake I made when I let Joey Gallo and his cousin into the house. Yet a part of me wants to resume our marriage. I need to put things right between us without revealing why I opened the door to his enemies that night. It’s a secret I promised to keep and I intend to honor that vow.
“Okay,” I say before I can slip into a spiral of indecision. “I’ll do as you ask.”
A smug smile curves Antonio’s lips. “Good girl.”
He steps to the side to give me room to move. I get up from my seat and slip off my lacy blue panties. A cool breeze whispers across my skin as I bend over the desk, the t-shirt riding up to expose my bare butt. I assume what I think is an appropriate position, with my palms on the desk. Antonio moves behind me and tuts disapprovingly.
“This won’t do, Isabella. Lay your upper body on the desk and stretch your arms up over your head.”
He taps the insides of my ankles with his foot. “And spread your legs wider.”
Ugh! I should have known he would demand a show of supplication. I arrange myself as he asked and try to get comfortable. With my body draped over the desk and my ass presented for punishment, I’m intensely aware of how vulnerable I am right now. I’m putting myself in the hands of a man who has every reason to hate me. But somehow, I’m sure he’s not going to harm me.
“Brace yourself, Bella. This is going to hurt.”
I’m so surprised by him addressing me with a degree of tenderness, I don’t register his warning. His palm cracks down on my bare ass and my mouth falls open. I expected that to hurt. Instead, what I feel is a pleasant warmth spreading across my butt and winding its way between my legs.
Just as the thought enters my head that this is going to be a walk in the park, Antonio dispels that foolish notion. He delivers several sharp smacks, alternating between my left and right buttocks. I have no idea how many times he’s spanked me so far, but each blow is more intense than the last. My flesh warms, and the discomfort builds in tandem with an unexpected surge of arousal. I have to work hard to keep my breathing steady.
Antonio delivers another slap to my already tender flesh, and this time I can’t help but react. I gasp loudly and clench my fists. I want to squeeze my thighs together, but my eagle-eyed husband would notice any movement. It’s better if he doesn’t know the effect he’s having on me. Realizing I’m getting turned on by being spanked might give him ideas.
“How do you feel?” Antonio asks.
“Sore.” I don’t tell him about the internal ache that needs to be soothed.
“Already?” he scoffs. “Such a pity because you’re going to take ten with my belt.”
“What?”
Startled, I rear up from the desk. Antonio catches me, his hands wrapping around my upper arms. He leans in close to whisper in my ear, not because he’s afraid of being overheard, but to be extra menacing. A shudder runs down my spine.
“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is yell taxi.”
My jaw clenches. Antonio can be an evil swine when he wants to be. He’s aware I can’t risk walking away from his protection. With no other option but to comply, I bow my head in defeat.
“Good girl. I knew you’d make the smart choice.”
It’s not the smart choice. It’s the only one I’ve got, and he knows it. Eventually, Rico’s family will wonder if I have information about his death and they’ll come looking for me. Antonio can keep me safe.
“Now, get back in position.”
Antonio lets go of my arms and I lie across the desk once more with my arms stretched out over my head. I push up onto my tiptoes so I can reach the opposite side and curl my fingers around the edge of the desk. Hopefully, having something to hold on to will help me get through this.
My heart rate picks up as I hear Antonio unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops of his dress pants. I grit my teeth. How bad is this going to be? His hand made my ass burn. A belt is surely going to hurt more. Gripping the edge of the desk, I suck in a breath and wait for him to begin.
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