Chapter 3
ISLA
When the John Legend song ended and a familiar piano solo began, I instantly stiffened. I knew Ciro had seen me dancing with the charming and funny Italian. No surprise, just as I’d seen him kiss the leggy bimbo.
But how could he ask the DJ to play the song with dozens of people around to hear it? The action only meant one thing. Ciro was about to lose his mind.
Terror burst inside me, fearing the worst.
The end was looming above us. I’d knowingly set off a devastating chain reaction, and I couldn’t take it back or stop the train wreck heading straight for me.
How could I have been so stupid?
When the stranger had asked me to dance, I should have said no. I always politely declined out of respect for the man I loved, and I just didn’t care to dance with other men.
But this time, I’d accepted the invitation with ill intent to give Ciro a taste of what I had endured at these damn events. Now, severe regret flooded my veins.
My heart hammering against my ribs, I discreetly turned my head from one side to the other searching for him. “No One” was the song I had deemed as our song, after Ciro had bought us tickets to a very expensive private charity concert Alicia Keys had sponsored.
That night at the concert had been magical. I’d believed Ciro’s feelings for me were deeper than he’d alluded to, but by the next morning, he’d gone back to his usual indifferent self.
I must have been a glutton for punishment to allow a man, no matter how handsome and rich, to emotionally abuse me. From day one, Ciro had been stand-offish and cold. I wasn’t sure why he had kept me around if he never planned to share his life with me.
Foolish optimism, I suppose. I’d prayed for him to be open to marriage and children… with me.
Sensing his presence, I refrained from looking for him. Why give him the satisfaction of seeing me unnerved?
Suddenly, my dance partner’s hands were forced off me, and Ciro’s lightly touched my hips, brushing up my sides. They glided smoothly over the silk fabric of my strapless dress, up to the gentle curve of my neck.
My body sizzled with desire, yet my pulse thundered with fear. There was no question in my mind that he was furious. And a furious Ciro was merciless and deadly.
He gave my sensitive skin an open-mouthed kiss, swirling his tongue just the way I liked on my clit. It was evil of him to do. He always could make me crumble at his feet.
The man standing in front of me glared. I imagined Ciro’s cocky, victorious grin. He was probably thinking, That’s right, motherfucker. She’s mine.
The thrill I had being Ciro Remotti’s possession was unhealthy. I knew as much. But not once had he physically abused me. He had never lied to me about his expectations or intentions.
I had stayed with him out of love and hoped that one day he would be able to love me back.
As always, Ciro melted me. He swept me off my feet with his dominance and lulled me into submission. My head fell back against his chest. “Ciro,” I whispered his name in a breathy tone, showing how I struggled to resist him.
I could never resist him. Some days I believed he couldn’t resist me, too.
The day we met rushed back to me as we swayed to music. I’d never forget how Ciro had acted like a lovestruck man…
I bounced my leg under the conference table, feeling wholly exposed and vulnerable. Why was he staring at me? His rich mahogany-colored eyes twinkled with something… Desire? Hunger? Vexation?
It was like he couldn’t take his eyes off me. Like it was literally impossible to look at anyone else. Like he’d lost control of those piercing eyes, pinning me in my chair.
I kept my head down and picked at my nails while my boss did all the talking. I hadn’t heard a single word, and wagered neither had Mr. Remotti, behaving as if he was totally captivated by me, the young intern.
My heart raced and my leg bounced more violently. No man had affected me like the darkly handsome man in front of me.
As it was, this was my first time attending a meeting where billions of dollars were discussed. Talking about massive amounts of money made me uncomfortable.
My skin itched and my armpits were wet. The way they threw around dollar amounts in the millions like they were quarters being tossed into a fountain was more than a little disturbing to me.
I’d grown up poor and only had three dollars in my wallet.
My bank account was in the negative. Payday was still five days away.
I didn’t know how I would put gas in my beater car or food in my belly.
After the ramen and loaf of cheap bread was gone, I’d have to get creative with my survival skills.
But Mr. Remotti, in his expensive suit and manicured nails, and multi-billion-dollar budget, had me twisted into knots beyond anything I could comprehend.
When our gazes connected, a freakish bolt of something sliced through my core and made me jolt in my chair. A glimmer sparked in his brown depths, telling me he’d felt it too.
At that moment, I knew I was in trouble…
Ciro spun me around, jerking me out of my reverie. His hardened depths met mine as if questioning my intentions. It gutted me not to see an ounce of jealousy or love on his face, only a rigid jaw and possessiveness. I wasn’t the love of his life, only a disposable asset.
“Dance with me, My-la,” he demanded, in a low, throaty voice. Damn him for calling me by the nickname he’d given me the first night he’d made love to me.
Made love? Don’t be so ridiculous, Isla.
He’d ravaged my body with every touch and kiss, claiming and ruining me for other men, while muttering My-la, My-la, My-la.
“Yes.” Unable to refuse, I hooked my arms around his neck. In my five-inch strappy heels, my head barely grazed his chin. He stood tall and strong, like a Roman gladiator.
“So fucking petite, but with curves in all the right places,” he said as he pulled my body against his and wrapped his muscular arms around my frame.
The world faded away around us. The stars in the inky sky brightened as we danced in quintessential harmony.
Our mouths connected, tongues twisting and playing to the rhythm of the song. There in his arms, sorrow burrowed into my heart.
I couldn’t do this anymore.
Ciro would never give me what I needed. He would never be mine, my forever and always.
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered against his mouth. “So much.” Might as well enjoy what could be our last dance, right?
“I’ve been here, baby. Who’s the fucker putting his hands on you?”
I sighed, tilting my head up and rolling my eyes. “Be nice.”
“I’m serious. Who is he?”
“He’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Not because you want me but because another man was paying attention to me. Nice, Ciro. Let me go.” I reared back, but he wouldn’t release me.
“I asked you a question. Who the fuck is he? He obviously doesn’t know that you’re mine.”
“Really, Ciro? I’m not your property. You don’t own me.” I pressed my hands flat against his chest and tried to get out of his hold. “You don’t deserve me. He’s probably some politician’s cocky son. Now, let me go!”
“Come with me.” He grabbed me by the hand and tugged me through the crowd of people toward the house.
I didn’t want to go inside.
I didn’t want to be alone with him.
I didn’t want the end of us to come.
But I had no choice. I couldn’t refuse his demands, because making a scene was not my style. Maddening as all get out, I loved Ciro and would never disrespect him.
My heels clacked on the stone flooring, echoing throughout the main floor. He didn’t appear at all concerned that I was practically running to keep up with his quick, long strides.
“Stop, Ciro. Please.” I twisted my hand, fighting to get free.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Roman hollered from behind us.
“Roman, make him let go of me,” I begged, emotion thick in my throat. Soon I’d be crying like other times.
“Nobody makes me do anything,” Ciro growled and tightened his grip around my wrist.
“You’re hurting me,” I whimpered, trying to hold it together, but I could tell my pain fell on deaf ears.
Roman darted in front of Ciro with his hands up.
He stopped, hard and seethed. “Move out of my way.”
“What in the hell are you doing?” Roman shook his head in disgust. “Can’t you see you’re hurting her?”
I continued struggling to get free from Ciro’s grasp. Why was he acting this way? He never gave a damn about me at parties. But then no one had ever danced with me before.
Guests and catering staff turned our way. Their stunned expressions sliced through me. In all my life, I had never felt so exposed and humiliated, with a front row seat as Ciro lost his composure.
What was stranger was it seemed I was the object of his undoing. Color me shocked.
“You’re causing a scene,” Roman told him.
“I don’t give a flying fuck if I’m being a dick in front of everyone! This is my goddamn party!”
“If?” Roman snapped. “No if about it. You are a dick!”
This was not how I expected the evening to unfold.
Yes, I’d sensed Ciro and I were nearing the end of our relationship.
I’d even told his sister, Rosa, that I didn’t think we’d make it at lunch the other day.
She’d been so sweet and understanding, but she’d known her older brother would never commit to me the way I desired… Marriage and a family.
However, I hadn’t thought my house of cards would come crashing down tonight. Especially after the mind-blowing sex we’d had. Leave it to Ciro to control everything… as always.
Ciro leveled his gaze at Roman. “Brother, why do you sound surprised? Now, move out of my goddamn way so I can talk to Isla.”
I shook my head. “No. There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t know who you are.”
“Yes, you do,” he hissed.
“How can you treat me like a possession? An object without feelings? You don’t really want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me either.” Registering the words I’d spoken put a lump in my throat. How could I have been so foolish to believe he’d make all my dreams come true?
Ciro whirled around, making me flinch and striking terror in me.
“Did you say I don’t want you?” Not waiting for a reply, he swept me off my feet, tossing me over his shoulder. He took the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom.
The mortification I felt being carried like a disobedient child was indescribable. His outrageous, primitive behavior was the final straw for me.
I. Was. Done.
Never had I ever felt so unheard and disregarded.
Ciro Remotti might have been the love of my life, but he was the devil in an Italian suit. Everyone bowed before him. Worshipped the ground he walked on. Feared his wrath.
Until now, I’d believed he would never physically hurt me. Sadly, I’d prefer a beating, then him shattering my heart.
Why had I given into his relentless flirting? The early days and weeks with him had been like my wildest fantasies coming true. No man had ever chased after me like Ciro Remotti.
I’d held strong, too afraid to lose my intern job with the design firm, but he’d found a way into my heart, and I wasn’t the least bit sorry.
Because Ciro Remotti wore two masks.
Most people saw the coldhearted, ruthless businessman, while I got to see a passionate and protective man behind closed doors. And sometimes possessive.
I’d fallen deeply in love with the man nobody knew. The one with scars from his past tattooed on his heart, wounds that had never healed. Though he had hidden it well from everyone, Ciro had been living in fear—the fear of losing those he loved most.
My fight or flight kicked in. I squirmed to get out of his hold and beat my fists on his back, but my efforts didn’t faze him.
No matter what he thought, I wouldn’t let him charm his way back into my heart.
I was finally done. Finally strong enough to resist him and ready to pave my own way and make my dreams come true.
“Jesus Christ, Ciro. Stop!” Roman followed us, of course. I was more than grateful to him for interfering.
Like a selfish bastard, Ciro ignored his brother and picked up his speed, storming down the hallway toward his bedroom.