Chapter 10 Noemi #2
I stare at him, completely thrown off balance by the unhinged honesty in his voice.
He isn't playing a game. He isn't mocking me.
He is stating a terrifying fact. Cassio Vellutini doesn't love me in any traditional, healthy sense.
He is obsessed with me. He views me as his ultimate, untouched possession, a treasure he accidentally stole from his greatest enemy.
"It changes nothing," I say, but the words lack conviction. They sound hollow, desperate. "I will still hate you. I will still fight you every single day I am trapped in this house."
Cassio lets out a low, dark chuckle. He releases my wrists and reaches up, his large hands cupping my face. His thumbs stroke my cheekbones, his touch surprisingly, agonizingly gentle.
"Fight me all you want, moglie," he murmurs, his dark eyes burning into mine. "Scream at me. Throw things at my head. Tell me you hate me until your throat bleeds. But do not ever try to tell me that last night changes nothing."
He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine, forcing me to look directly into the pitch-black abyss of his eyes.
"It changes everything," he vows.
"How?" I challenge, a tear finally escaping and tracking down my cheek. "How does it change anything? You’re still going to lock me in this house. You’re still going to cut me off from the world."
"Yes," he agrees without a single ounce of hesitation. "I am going to lock you in. I am going to surround this estate with a hundred armed men. I am going to put a bullet between the eyes of any man who looks at you for longer than three seconds. But you aren't going to live in this wing anymore."
My breath catches. "What?"
"Your things are being moved into my room as we speak," he states calmly, as if he is discussing the weather and not completely upending my entire existence.
"You sleep in my bed. You eat at my table.
When I have meetings in my study, you will sit on the leather couch and read your books where I can see you. "
"You can't do that!" I gasp, genuine panic flaring in my chest. "I need my own space! I can't be around you twenty-four hours a day, Cassio! I will suffocate!"
"You will breathe when I tell you to breathe," he counters, his grip on my face tightening just enough to be a warning. "You are not a ghost haunting the hallways of my home anymore, Noemi. You are the Lady of the Vellutini family. You are my wife. In every single sense of the word."
He tilts my head up, capturing my lips in a deep, bruising kiss. He explores my mouth with his tongue, tasting my tears, swallowing my protests, reminding me of exactly what my body felt like when he was buried deep inside me.
Despite my anger, despite my fear, my traitorous body instantly responds. My toes curl against the cold hardwood floor, a heavy, liquid heat pooling low in my belly. My hands, which should be pushing him away, remain curled uselessly against his chest.
He breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at my flushed, devastated face.
"The rules have changed," Cassio whispers, his thumb brushing over my swollen lower lip.
"You wanted to know if last night was a mistake?
It was the exact opposite. It was a revelation.
I know what you are now. I know exactly how you taste, I know how you sound when you break, and I know that no other man on this earth has ever possessed you. "
He drops his hands from my face and takes a step back. The sudden loss of his body heat leaves me shivering.
"Go take a shower," he orders, his tone reverting to the crisp, commanding authority of the Don.
He turns and walks toward the bed. "Use the hot water to ease the soreness. Matteo’s wife is bringing over a new wardrobe for you this afternoon.
The conservative bullshit your mother packed for you is being burned. "
"I don't want a new wardrobe," I argue, crossing my arms defensively, clinging to the last shreds of my rebellion. "I want my phone back. I want to speak to my sister."
Cassio pauses, he turns his head, looking at me over his shoulder. The look in his eyes is chillingly calm.
"Lucia is safe in your father’s house," he says flatly. "And as for your phone, you lost those privileges the second you dialed Lombardi’s number. You want to communicate with the outside world? You do it through me."
"You are a tyrant," I whisper, the fight draining out of me, replaced by exhaustion.
"I am your husband," he replies, as if the two words are entirely synonymous. "And I protect what is mine. Shower, Noemi. We have breakfast in thirty minutes."
I look at the unmade bed that he just sat on. I look at the dark stain on the charcoal sheets.
I wanted to believe I could survive this marriage by building a wall of ice. I wanted to believe I could live in his house, ignore his existence, and eventually fade into the background like I did in my father’s home.
But Cassio doesn't allow things to fade. He doesn't ignore his possessions.
I wrap my arms tighter around myself, a violent shiver racking my body. The door to my cage hasn't just been locked, Cassio has completely removed the hinges and bricked over the exit. I am trapped in the epicenter of his world.
And the most terrifying part isn't that he claimed me.
The most terrifying part is the treacherous whisper in the back of my mind, the lingering heat between my thighs, telling me that a sick, twisted part of my soul doesn't want to leave.