8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Serena
E milio is gone when I wake up the next morning. He didn't come back to bed and hold me or spend a tender moment with me. After I asked about the scars on his back, he totally shut me out. He didn't give a fuck and had no regrets about what he did. What I did notice though were the dark circles under his eyes. It makes me think he doesn’t sleep much; either that or he’s out all night sticking his cock in other women.
God, his cock; it’s huge and pierced. Just remembering that I came while he was fucking me ignites a rush of heat in my cheeks, causing them to burn with a fiery intensity. It's as if the shame itself has taken on a tangible weight, pressing down on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
The reaction isn't because Emilio hurt me. It's because I really enjoyed it, and I shouldn't have. This is someone who's kidnapped me and taken my freedom away. But there’s no denying how hot I felt when he touched me, like I was going to physically combust, and I didn't want him to stop. Enjoying having sex with the man who took me to hurt my family feels like I'm betraying them.
When Josephine brings in my breakfast tray, she keeps her eyes down. I can't imagine what his staff think of me, especially if any of them heard what we did last night. Pushing down my shame and refusing to show her my vulnerability, I try a different tactic.
"Can you ask Emilio if I can have some art supplies, Josephine? Please?"
"Yes, ma'am, I will ask." She leaves, locking the door behind her. I am surprised she didn't gloat or comment. I'm sure his staff thinks I got what I deserved.
After hearing Emilio call me Serena Martinelli-Esposito last night, something has been niggling in the back of my mind. As soon as he said the name Esposito, it sounded familiar, so I rack my brain, trying to figure out where I've heard that name before, and suddenly I remember. He was an associate of my father's. Not only that, Carla, that nutjob Gio was supposed to marry, was an Esposito. Those people were trafficking human beings and took Everly and Samirah. My brothers tore their empire apart, killing them all. I'm still not clear on exactly why Emilio is out to get my family, but he said Mario was his father.
Normally, I stay out of mob politics, so I didn't realize at first who he was talking about. Now I'm remembering bits and pieces of things I've heard from Sam and Everly.
The men in my world don't really tell their women anything. I know my brothers had to rescue both of their wives from that creep. It stands to reason that Emilio takes after his father.
Wondering about my next move, I think about Gio and Marcello. My brothers have always protected me, and I know they will kill Emilio for what he’s done to me. The problem is, it will start a war that could decimate my family. The outfit normally sides with the husband, and even though I didn't willfully choose him, in the eyes of the law, Emilio is my husband. If the other mafia families side with him, it would mean that my family would be held accountable for any retribution they take.
That means my nieces and nephews could be in danger if I go to my brothers. A tear flows down my cheek as I make peace with the fact that I'm alone in this. It’s down to me to rescue myself.
Just as I wonder if Emilio had anything to do with everything that's been happening around me for the last six months, there's another knock at the door.
"Come in."
Antonio, the guy who Emilio cut so savagely last night, walks in holding several bags. "Boss said you asked for some art supplies. I didn't know what to get, so I grabbed some of everything."
This man was hurt because of me. Looking at him contritely, I decide I owe him an apology. "I'm sorry I got you into trouble. I didn't realize he would go that far."
The man continues through the room and sits the bags down. He doesn't respond, nor does he look in my direction, which pisses me off.
"I know what I did got you punished, but you helped him hold me down to brand me. That's fucked up too."
He shakes his head, purposefully avoiding my stare, and leaves the room.
I huff out a frustrated breath, deciding the apology is all I owe Antonio; if it's not good enough for him, it's not my problem. Keen to see what art supplies he’s brought, I shuffle off the bed and begin to unload the bags.
This man is a complete idiot. He brought me sewing needles, thread, yarn, and knitting needles. How the fuck is this art? Then I pull out embroidery thread. Tilting my head, I try to figure out what the hell Emilio's dumbass guard was thinking. I bark out a laugh as I pull out a pair of scissors.
"Emilio, hire smarter staff," I mutter to myself. I was expecting paper, paint, drawing material, but this will work out even better. Oh, I’m going to have such fun with these items and hopefully piss Emilio off in the process. The best part is, he arranged for me to have access to them, so it's his own fault.
At Emilio's dresser, I open drawers to find the socks. I pull each pair out, cutting them right where the big toe would be. Laughing uncontrollably, I replace all the socks in the drawer exactly as they were before.
Removing his underwear next, I think about what to do. He branded his name on me. Maybe I should put my name on him. Making sure when he goes to find whores to fuck, they know who he belongs to. Not allowing myself to analyze why I think of Emilio as belonging to me, I try to push the thought aside.
Slowly and methodically, I embroider my name into each pair of underwear he owns. I do it as Serena Esposito because I want those women to know you don't fuck my husband and get away with it.
Feeling like I need to smack myself, I don't understand why my heart does a little pitter patter when I think of him as my husband. Have I lost my fucking mind?
Then I think about the jealousy that's raging through my veins and my cheeks burn from embarrassment. No way am I jealous of that monster.
What the fuck is wrong with me? He's a stranger who kidnapped me, and I don't even like the asshole. The brutal look of him shows he's lived a hard life and is a dangerous man, but I've been around dangerous men my entire life. That doesn't scare me. What scares me is that he's gorgeous and just thinking about him makes me wet.
His dark olive skin, short black hair, and sun-weathered complexion are all part of his allure. The scar on his eyebrow makes him even more attractive. My cheeks heat at the thoughts and images that bombard my mind. Emilio is the kind of man I've fantasized about bending me in half and fucking me raw. Though, I'll never admit that to him because I think he'd like it too much.
A thrill surges through me as I delight in the mischief I've caused. And when I spot the closet in the corner of the room, a wicked grin stretches across my face.
As I walk over to the closet, my hands tremble with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. My fingers run along the soft fabric of the suits, the smoothness of the ties, and the crispness of the white button-down shirts. Each touch intensifies the emotions swirling within me.
With a mischievous glint in my eyes, I reach for the scissors, feeling the cool metal against my fingertips. As I cut, the sound of the buttons popping off echoes in the room, a satisfying snap accompanying each one. The physical act of destruction brings a strange sense of power, fueling the rush of adrenaline even further.
As I gather up the scattered buttons, a frisson of doubt ripples through me. The weight of my actions presses down on me, a heavy feeling that intertwines with the thrill I feel. I carefully conceal the buttons under the cushion of the chair, making certain they are hidden from prying eyes.
I’m overrun with excitement and adrenaline. It's a heady mix, overwhelming and yet strangely addictive. These little acts of rebellion against Emilio make me feel alive, more than I've ever felt before.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ve found the challenge I’ve been seeking my whole life, because one thing is certain. Emilio isn’t the type of man to back down just because of who I am.