Chapter 10
10
CELIA
“ Y ou can take your hands off me,” I told Luca when he gripped my arm to help me out of the car. “I’m not going to run.”
I cast a glance toward the distant gates that had already swung shut, sealing me into the compound. The vast, white marble face of the mansion waited for me, blank and cruel as ever. I could only catch the barest glimpses of city lights beyond the spurting fountain and the white marble drive. The fountain meant the only sounds here were the quiet burbling of the water and the sound of crickets from the wide green lawn.
The city had faded entirely. This was my father’s territory, where he was king.
“Mm.” Luca grunted in response. “I’ve already learned I have to hold onto you carefully.”
Dante unfolded himself from the opposite side of the car. I glanced toward him curiously. He was even bigger than Luca, a mountain of a man, but his muscles looked as if they were built in real life and not just the gym. A shiver of tension skated across my skin. Fear, but also something else I couldn’t quite parse.
“After you.” Luca swept one arm toward the house, sketching a mockery of a bow in my direction.
He let me lead, but he never released his grip on my arm, though he held me lightly. So I wouldn’t bruise from his big hands? He held me almost…carefully.
We’d see how long that lasted once he understood how my father treated his things.
The two of us went up the steps. One of my father’s men opened the door for us, the bulge of his gun obvious under his suit jacket.
“Leave us,” Luca told him. “Patrol the grounds.”
The man hesitated, then nodded. The staff would be in their own houses by now, having prepared dinner and retired. There would be no one in the house now except for my father…and Luca.
Why did that give me a wild, impractical surge of hope, as if something could be different…before I swallowed it down. Nothing was going to be different. No one was going to help me of their own free will. The truth about princesses is they always have to save themselves.
For now, I had to look powerless…and remind myself that no matter how small these men made me feel, I would be their downfall.
As we walked, I brushed my hair back with my fingertips, trying to pull the platinum strands into place even though they were already smooth and perfect. My father hated weakness, but I never would’ve wanted him to see mine anyway.
My heels clicked across the marble, moving quickly toward my fate, and Luca’s eyes darted toward me as if he were curious. There was no escaping now. As I walked in front of him into the living room, he released me.
There was a fire burning in the fireplace, and the woodsmoke scent used to be comforting to me. Over the fireplace hung an enormous portrait of my father, mother, Royal, and myself when I was six years old. We smiled out of the gilt frame like the happiest of families.
I didn’t look at the club chairs in front of the fire, or the dark form barely illuminated by the flickering light.
“I swear you are even more willful than your bitch of a mother.” My father leaned forward, his face entering the light. He had a handsome, angular face, one that was disturbingly like my own. “What do I need to do for you to learn, Celia?”
“I just want to have my own life, Father.”
“Don’t think that if you get kidnapped, I’m coming to your rescue,” he growled at me. “They can keep your worthless ass. I’m not paying the ransom.”
“I didn’t think you would. I assumed you’d let them kill me, given what you did to my mother.”
He scoffed. “I didn’t hurt your mother, you little fool.”
My anger had overwhelmed my senses for a moment. He was lying to me, gaslighting me as he had since she disappeared. I had to force myself to look down instead of meeting his angry eyes.
I was afraid he’d see my true rebellion.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“Not as sorry as you will be. It seems there’s only one thing that gets through into that pretty, empty skull of yours.” My father stood in one fluid motion. “Luca…teach my daughter a lesson.”
“Father, please.” I didn’t dare reach out for his sleeve as he passed. That had been the behavior of the child that I once was, searching for mercy where none could be found. I knew better now.
“Save your begging,” he told me.
He stopped at the doors to close them with his usual prim behavior, shutting them softly.
Shutting me in with Luca.
Luca cocked his head at me, studying me. I took a step back despite myself, my heels sinking into the thick rug across the wooden floorboards and almost making me stumble.
“You make some very poor life decisions,” he said quietly.
As poor as being a thug and a lowlife who works for my father ? Only the thinnest sense of self-preservation kept me from hurling those words at him. I raised my chin, meeting his gaze fearlessly.
“There’s that look you were too wise to let your father see.” There was a note in his voice I couldn’t make sense of. Satisfaction? It didn’t make sense. He cocked one finger at me. “Come to me, Celia. Don’t make me chase you.”
“I wouldn’t get far in these heels anyway.” But I didn’t move toward him.
“Take them off.”
I stared at him, perplexed.
“You’re in enough trouble,” he noted. “I wouldn’t make me ask twice.”
“Amato hated me.” I sank onto the low velvet couch and lifted my ankle onto one thigh, the movement pulling up my tiny red skirt. I caught his gaze sliding down my thigh before his eyes lifted to mine. “He enjoyed hurting me.”
“He’s dead,” Luca noted. He slipped off his suit jacket and hung it carefully on the back of a chair.
That was the rumor. After all, anyone who tried to leave my father without his permission would’ve been a dead many anyway.
Luca sounded so confident it was true. It would be a relief to never see Amato again, and bitter pleasure surged through me when I imagined Amato dying.
That brief, dark pleasure flickered, then died, as I faced Luca. “But you’re going to do the exact same thing he did.”
Luca folded his sleeves up, his corded forearms rippling with the movement. “Not the exact same.”
Luca had been working his way up the ranks the last time my father had me punished. He’d been out in the hallway, lurking with half a dozen of my father’s men when my father came out. My father had a mission to get to, something far more important than beating his daughter himself.
“What does that mean?” I leaned forward, pushing my cleavage together. I was aware of his gaze now as I unbuckled the Louboutin and let it dangle from my toes.
“It means get your shoes off and stop playing games before I lose my already very limited patience. Tonight you were stupid.” His voice took on a harsh note, and he practically spat the word stupid . It caused a sudden spurt of fear in my chest.
My fingers trembled just slightly as I slid my other ankle onto my knee and began to unbuckle my shoe.
I always tried to be fearless, but there was no denying I was afraid of what was coming. Anyone would be. The worst fear had always been for me that Amato would go too far, that it wouldn’t be just cracked ribs and deep bruises but that he would kill me. Would my father shrug his shoulders and have me buried in a shallow grave somewhere out in the forest? Would he put a bullet in Amato’s head and bury him alongside me for his mistake? That would have been cold comfort.
Luca crossed the room and stood in front of me, then crooked a finger as if he were telling me to stand up. I set my shoes aside and rose, the movement bringing us too close together. I stared at the dark tie, the white shirt that was tight over his powerful chest.
“Look at me.”
I raised my eyes to him. His deep-green eyes looked black and fathomless in the dim light.
“So you can obey. I’m not going to hurt you the way that fool did,” Luca told me quietly. His tone was almost tender, except when he mentioned Amato. “I’m not going to risk bruising this pretty face or breaking these bones when I punish you.”
A shiver ran down my spine as he touched my cheek with his thumb, his touch gentle.
Something didn’t make sense in the way he touched me, or the way he looked at me, or the way he spoke of my past tormentor.
“Do you know what happened to Amato?” I whispered, a confused flutter in my stomach.
He didn’t answer. “Take off your dress.”
My hands flew to the base of my throat, covering my cleavage. I stared up at him, feeling my heart pound wildly against my chest.
I didn’t feel afraid with him like I did with Amato. My body felt hot and cold all at one time.
He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been trying to seduce me with that body. Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to let me see it now.”
The accusation brought a rush of heat to my cheeks. “I haven’t!”
“I’m not going to ask again, starlight. I’m going to teach you a lesson, but I’m not going to hurt you.” His gaze met mine, his big jaw hard. “Well. I’m not going to hurt you in any ways that last. I’m going to spank that cute ass of yours. But you’re safe with me.”
“I don’t feel particularly safe,” I told him. The world had gone dark at the edges, and I tried to push past him, confused by the way he had talked to me.
He caught me around the waist and reeled me into him, abruptly sitting down on the couch. I was startled to find myself sprawled across the velvet couch, my knees digging into the soft fabric as I struggled to get away from him, my stomach across his rock-hard muscular thighs.
“You can fight.” His voice was amused. “It won’t matter.”
His arm hooked around my waist felt inescapable as he pulled up the fabric of my dress.
“Let go of me!”
He didn’t bother to answer. His calloused fingers slid under the waistband of my underwear, then peeled them down my thighs abruptly. My ass and core tightened at the sensation of cool air brushing my skin, and my pussy felt so exposed.
And so wet.
I hoped he didn’t notice as I kicked out at him, trying to escape.
“You can’t spank me like I’m a child!”
He scoffed. “I would never. No, I’m going to spank you exactly like I’d spank a spoiled mafia princess who was making very bad decisions. I’m going to spank this pretty ass raw.”
His big hand rested lightly on the curve of my ass, sending electric pulses flying down my spine. No matter how much I thrashed around, I couldn’t escape him. I stilled, twisted my head to look at him.
Why did I hate the thought he saw me that way? As spoiled and stupid? It was better this way. He could never know my game.
“Good,” he said, his gaze meeting mine.
His hand lifted off my ass and descended again with a sharp, harsh slap. The sound seemed to echo through the room, and I let out a little gasp of shock at the sudden sting. His hand was hard and calloused as he rested it on the curve of my ass again.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
“I have to,” he answered, and I wasn’t sure if he meant because my father expected him to punish me or something else.
The next second, his hand descended on my ass again, his big hand almost cupping the curve of my cheek. I let out a yelp and kicked my legs, no longer worrying about what he meant, but it was useless. He gripped me firmly, spanking hard and fast, his hard arm inescapable. Warmth spread across my ass, then heated into something almost unbearable.
I gritted my teeth, determined not to give in, holding back my cry. Until it hurt so much that I couldn’t.
“Stop!” I begged.
To my surprise, he stilled, resting his hand just below my ass, on my lower thighs. The sensation of his hand there made me squirm in ways I didn’t want to explore, though it seemed business-like on his part.
“Are you ready to obey and undress for me like I asked?”
I craned my head to look at him over my shoulder. “What?”
“We haven’t even gotten started.” His hand tapped my upper thighs, gently, almost absently. “Your punishment doesn’t begin until you’ve obeyed.”
“You—”
He smacked my ass once, twice. The sharp sting made me gasp, remembering that I didn’t want him to keep going.
Though I could feel how wet I was, how my juices were running down my thighs. Part of my body liked this; the pain mingled with something that felt…good.
“Stand up and take off your dress,” he told me. “Are you ready to obey?”
I had the feeling I knew how he wanted me to answer.
“Yes, sir,” I ground out.
“Look at you,” he said, an edge of amusement in his voice. “Despite what I was told…you can be taught.”
I bit back the angry words I wanted to say as his hands found my arms and guided me up, off his lap. The world spun slightly from being upside down, and he gripped me carefully, watching my face until he was sure I was steady.
I didn’t even bother looking toward the door. I knew I wasn’t going to escape him. The only way to get through this humiliating experience was to obey and to get it over with.
I shimmed out of the tight spandex dress until it pooled around my feet, then carefully rolled away the shapewear that held my secret phone, keeping the hard plastic wrapped in the fabric. As I bent to drop it on the ground, my breasts spilled forward. Luca’s gaze flickered toward them, with undeniable heat blazing in his eyes. My panties were sliding halfway around my thighs, and I started to pull them up automatically.
“I’ll take those.” He held out one of those massive hands. “Panties are for good girls.”
Reluctantly, I handed over the silky slip of fabric. He slipped it into his suit pocket, and I frowned at the sight of it vanishing. But I didn’t ask.
He stood too. My gaze flew to his face, expecting him to unbuckle his pants, wondering what he was going to tell me to do.
He let out a soft chuckle. “I’m not going to ask you to do anything for me, Celia. Sucking my dick? That’s for good girls too.”
“I would never.” I started angrily.
“I think you would,” he disagreed.
Then I was standing naked in front of him. I felt his gaze like it was the heat of the sun itself as he roamed my body, taking in my heavy breasts, my wide hips, the patch of hair between my thighs. My father mocked my weight— no one wants a fat wife and that’s your only value to me —and I flushed, feeling humiliated. It was strange to be naked in front of this man who was dressed impeccably in his dark suit pants and crisp white shirt. We were so close I could smell the leathery, spicy scent of his aftershave.
He reached up and touched my face again, his fingertips tracing the blush down my neck to my decolletage. “So there is a girl who can be embarrassed under all that ice,” he murmured. “You should be. A grown woman like you, needing to be punished.”
“I don’t need this.” I countered.
“Is that so?” He caught my hips and dragged me between his open thighs, then gripped my shoulders and pressed me down.
I bit my lip and knelt in front of him, expecting the order to suck him off. He’d made a terrible mistake. My father would kill him.
After all, my only value to my father was as a virgin bride for him to auction for power.
“Why am I going to punish you?” he asked quietly.
God. Maybe he wasn’t going to get himself a bullet in the head tonight. More’s the pity. But I’d play his game for now. “For sneaking out to the club.”
“No,” he told me, a flash of humor in those dark-green eyes. “I’m punishing you for getting caught.”
I stared up at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“Now bend yourself over my lap.” He patted his thigh. “Like a good girl who’s ready to take her punishment.”
I was going to kill him one day for humiliating me. I looked up at him with flashing eyes, hoping he could read my intent, but not daring to push him any further.
His lips quirked as if he understood exactly what I meant, but he just patted his thigh again.
It felt far more humiliating to rise to my feet and then bend over his lap myself, exposing myself to him. I was keenly aware of the view he had of the curve of my ass, of my wet pussy, as he adjusted me across his lap. I’d never felt so exposed to any man before.
“Amato would hit you with his belt?” he asked me. “Where did he hit you?”
I remembered being curled up on my side, my arms over my face to protect it as the belt lashed through the air.
“Celia. I asked you a question.” His voice was unexpectedly kind.
My voice came out a whisper when I said, “Anywhere he could.”
“There’s scars on your back.” His fingers swept up the curve of my ass, up my spine, and pressed a spot below my shoulder blades—close enough to my breasts to send an unexpected twinge of desire through my body, wanting him to move his fingers. “It looks like a belt buckle gouged you here.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Amato is dead,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if he was reminding himself or me. “No one’s ever going to hurt you the way he did before. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I whispered, surprised to find myself trusting him.
Surprised to find myself feeling strangely safe, even in this exposed position.
Then he began to spank me, and all the indignity was forgotten as I kicked helplessly trying to escape him. His strong, hard hands kept going, peppering spanks over my ass, concentrating on the lower curve where I sat.
I tried to reach back and cover my ass with one hand, and he gripped my wrist and pulled my hand into the small of my back, holding me securely as he aimed several hard smacks at my upper thighs. I let out a cry, but he nudged my thighs open with his knee, parting my legs so he could spank the inside of my thighs. His hand came intimately close to my throbbing pussy, and I felt the touch of his fingers keenly when they accidentally brushed me there.
“Stop,” I begged. “It hurts!”
“Is that so?” he asked dryly. He landed a few more smacks to my inner thighs—lighter than the ones across my ass, but still stinging—and then he returned to spanking my ass.
Even as I thrashed and hated him, I couldn’t help but think about Amato’s cruelty and about how different this was. My ass stung like hell, but I knew I wouldn’t die. Tears filled my eyes, and I gasped out a strangled sob. But even as I began to cry, it felt like a strange catharsis.
I was alive, and Amato was dead. I had won .
I couldn’t control Luca, but I was safe with him.
He stopped, although my ass was so hot that I barely felt the difference. But I was keenly aware of his hand resting on my upper thigh, the way his thumb accidentally brushed against my flushed, swollen inner core.
“It’s all right, Celia,” he murmured. “It’s over.”
I knew I was being ridiculous, but it felt like more than the spanking was over.
I was still crying as he gathered me into his lap, cradling me in his arms. I caught blurry glimpses of his handsome face through my tears as he held me. My thighs across his and my sore ass hanging off the edge so it didn’t have to touch the sofa, his powerful arm looped around my waist.
To my surprise, I found myself leaning against his chest, sobbing against the five o’clock shadow across his jaw, my tears soaking the white dress shirt. He patted my back gently. I’d screamed under Amato’s ministrations, but I’d always been too angry, too terrified, to cry when I was so focused on keeping myself alive.
“I’m going to take you up to bed,” he told me quietly.
“Let me get my clothes,” I said. I’d slid that precious phone down in the fabric, making sure it was wrapped in the dress.
“No.” His voice was stern. “Your father’s gone out. No one’s going to see you.”
He rose easily, cradling me against his massive chest, and carried me through the room, stopping only to bend and pick up my clothes. He pushed the door open and stepped out into the dimly lit hall. The house was quiet, the deep silence of an empty mansion, as he carried me up the marble stairs. His footfalls were almost soundless despite his massive size.
He carried me down the hall and turned to one side, carefully watching my head, as he carried me into my room. I caught glimpses of the fluffy lavender interior of the room, the teddy bears that watched from the window seat.
He must have thought I was such a child. My cheeks flushed even pinker, but I didn’t bother to try to explain.
My mother and I had decorated this bedroom together when I was seven. I had the fondest memories of painting the walls ourselves, giggling as we swept the lavender paint on with our rollers.
I could never bear to change this room. I had so few memories left of her.
He laid me on the bed. “Lay on your stomach. Hands under your thighs. I want you to feel every bit of your punishment as you fall asleep.”
The feeling of being exposed like this, my ass reddened and exposed, felt shocking. I had the feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to spank me all over again. And that would’ve been quite disturbing to the innocent bears.
I tucked my hands under my thighs, keenly aware of how close they were now to my greedy, throbbing clit.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he told me, his voice amused. “But if you touch yourself, you’ll pay later.”
He stood above my bed. I stared at him as best I could with my cheek pressed to the cool, soft sheets, trying to make sense of his words. Did he have a camera in my room?
He dropped the dress on the elaborately carved bench at the foot of my bed. Had he noticed the weight of the phone wrapped in my dress?
“Goodnight, starlight,” he told me. “Be good tonight.”
Then he was gone, leaving me there.
I closed my eyes, feeling the ache and throb between my thighs, the heat still burning across my ass.
And I felt the sudden, deeper heat that had ignited tonight.