Chapter 15
Sofia
I jumped over.
The railing was wide enough for me to take a running start before launching myself over to Elena’s side.
I didn’t think I was capable of it, but the rage I was feeling gave me the kick in the ass I needed to clear the distance.
The thought of falling to my death didn’t cross my mind once—I was fueled by only three words: rule number one.
As if last night hadn’t even happened. He didn’t want to check in and see how I was doing or even try to act remotely polite.
So, I felt pretty fucking done with this whole ordeal.
My feet hurt when I landed on Elena’s balcony, but luckily, her sliding door was unlocked and she was still sleeping. This allowed me to quietly put on some of Elena’s clothes as a disguise and walk out without the guards noticing.
But someone caught me outside of what appears to be Alessandro’s office, and now he’s standing over me, seething with rage.
“How. The hell. Did you get out?”
“I walked.”
I’m not technically lying, just omitting which door I walked out of.
He prowls forward, pinning me against the wall.
His face flushes with anger as he rips off the hat, the sunglasses, and then finally the coat.
He cages me against the wall with one arm while analyzing the tag on the coat.
If he were acting like this early in our marriage, I’d probably be shaking in fear.
But as time has gone on, I honestly don’t think he’ll harm me.
“How did you get this?”
“From Elena.”
“She helped you?”
“Not directly.”
His hand clasps around my throat, not hard enough to restrict my breathing but enough to make me question if maybe I should fear him. I think about his rules and how getting caught trying to escape means a ticket to the dungeon. But he wouldn’t. Right?
His face is an inch from mine. I can feel the heat coming from his body. And while I’d rather be out of the castle, making progress with my escape, part of me enjoys this closeness—this attention he’s finally giving me after the icy routine this morning.
My left arm is free, and instead of attacking or trying to break away, it rests on his arm as if it has a mind of its own. He looks down at it—at my oddly familiar touch. Then leans in even closer. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me instead of going through this charade of trying to punish me.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asks in an accusatory tone, then touches the side of my face with his other hand, tracing his thumb on my lower lip.
“I don’t know.” My voice surprises me with how steady it is. “I think you’re all talk and you’d never do anything to hurt me. You’d never put me in the dungeon, would you?”
He laughs without humor. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
I glare at him, but I know he has a point. Even having someone else tortured near me would make me panic.
“So, how should I punish you? Extract information from you? Hmm?” He asks these questions more to himself than me.
He puts his hand beneath my hair at the back of my head, so that I’m forced to look him in the eyes.
This closeness. This being manhandled is something I’ve never experienced before.
It feels like I’m in a trance as my breath quickens.
I squeeze my thighs together and curse my body for reacting to him in this way; I’m desperate for his touch when I should be devastated at getting caught.
He takes his other hand and reaches up the back of my shirt, unhooking my bra with one fluid motion. My knees feel weak, and my nipples pebble.
“Are you going to be a good girl and tell me how you got out?”
I shake my head, wanting to keep that advantage to myself in case I want to give this another shot. And a part of myself doesn’t want this to end.
His hand finds my breast as he presses himself closer to me. I can feel his length through his pants, and it takes effort to restrain myself from grinding against him, from touching him.
“You won’t tell me,” he coos, pinching my nipple just enough to make me jolt. “I bet you’re so wet for me right now.” I can feel the blood rushing to my face. “Are you?”
I shake my head, no. Even though we both know that’s a lie. I don’t want to give him the verbal satisfaction.
He smirks as he pulls my shirt up over my head and then pulls my unclasped bra onto the floor.
This time, it seems like he’s the one in a trance.
His green eyes are dilated as they fixate on my chest. He drops to his knees and puts one of my breasts in his mouth.
I bite my lip hard to avoid moaning to give him the satisfaction.
He sucks so hard that it almost buckles my knees then pulls away with a pop.
“If you tell me how you escaped, I’ll reward you like the good girl I know you are. If not… I’m going to have to punish you.”
Punish.
Why is that my gut reaction for the answer?
And what is this? Are we playing, or is this a legitimate attempt to get this information out of me?
Impulsively, I shake my head, trying to turn off my racing and confusing thoughts.
A chuckle escapes his lips. “You’re going to make this fun for me?”
He pulls my leggings down so they fall to my ankles. His hand cups my pussy; I’m sure my arousal is coating him.
A cocky smile forms on his lips. “Liar. You are dripping for me.”
He unzips the boots I’m wearing, helping me walk out of them as I stand there, feeling vulnerable: naked, in front of him.
This is all moving so fast. We haven’t kissed.
Hell, aside from yesterday, he’s barely shown me any affection.
But this is what I crave. He’s smart; maybe he’s purposefully curated this reaction out of me—to become desperate for his touch and his attention.
He’s probably read an entire book about Stockholm syndrome.
But then I look at his face, and I can tell from his expression that he is in little control of himself.
“Bend over my desk.”
For the first time in this whole charade, I do as he says. My body seems to have a mind of its own.
I take a few steps towards it, then lean forward, putting my palms on the surface.
“All the way,” he says. “I want your chest flush with it. Your ass up in the air.”
I do as he says, and I’ve never felt so vulnerable before.
I can feel the cool air on my throbbing pussy.
I can even feel his gaze as he stands behind me.
I crave his touch in a way I can’t comprehend.
It’s not like I’ve had much experience—I always knew I’d be married off to someone, so I never got too attached. But still…
A cracking sound followed by a stinging pain in my cheek breaks me out of my train of thought.
“That was for the lie,” he says while standing behind me. I instinctively try to stand up, but his strong hand pins me back down against his desk. He chuckles. “You’re not going anywhere. Not now.”
My legs quiver beneath me as the desk drives into my hips.
“Now.” His hand massages the cheek he just smacked. “How did you get out?”
“N…no.”
Smack.
“How?”
I remain silent.
He spanks the other side this time.
“Please,” I whimper.
“Please, what?”
“I… I don’t know.”
He chuckles darkly at this. “You like being bent over my desk, don’t you?”
I don’t answer him, and that earns me another spank.
“How about now? Tell me how you got out?”
“No...”
I instinctively flinch, but he holds me in place, this time three times in quick succession.
A low moan escapes me as he presses his finger against my clit. “So wet for me. You are a kinky little thing, aren’t you?”
I grind against his finger, hoping he’ll help release the pressure. But his finger stays agonizingly still.
“Please.” My voice comes out as barely a whisper.
“Not until you tell me how you got out.”
Another spank makes my body jolt, and I wonder if I can come just from this alone.
He leans over me, and I can feel him through his pants. I wonder how his pants even contain that thing anymore; he must be suffering just as much as I am. Two of his fingers slide inside me, and I hear him suck in a breath as I can’t help the moan that escapes me.
“Tell me.” His whisper in my ear sends a chill down my spine.
Unable to take it anymore, it’s not that I’m in pain, that I’m humiliated, but I can’t take the arousal without getting a release anymore.
“I jumped to Elena’s balcony, grabbed her coat to disguise myself, then walked out of her apartment.”
Alessandro continues to lean over me, frozen.
“Alessandro, please…”
“Wait, you’re not serious, are you?”
“Please! I’m telling you the truth. I really did jump—”
He pulls his hand out and takes a step back, helping me stand and then spinning me around. I lick my lips, expecting him to kiss me and take me, but genuine rage covers his face.
Suddenly, I feel completely naked. I try to squirm away from his grip, but he holds on firm.
“You jumped that far? You could have died, Sofia.”
“It was a risk I was willing to take! You know you guys are kind of holding me hostage?”
Anger boils in my chest at his change in mood.
“You could have died,” he hisses, repeating himself.
“And why do you care?”
“I…” He closes his mouth and looks away, as if he doesn’t know the answer to that question. “Because Marco would kill me.”
I know that reason isn’t completely true. There’s a part of him that wants to keep me alive.
I instinctively cover my chest with my free arm, not able to meet his eyes anymore.
What is happening? I question why I even played along with his little game in his office. My family is probably worried sick, and instead of getting upset about getting caught, I become excited? Aroused?
“I want to put my clothes back on.”
He lets go of me and then gestures to the pile of clothes with his head. I hurry and get everything back on, though I’m still annoyingly itching for relief despite hating him again.
He grabs me by the arm again, his demeanor cold and unattached, as he leads me back to his place silently.
I keep my eyes down at the floor as he parades me back to his wing. No one looks our way. The staff members don’t want to get in between our weird relationship. The lower soldiers don’t want to disrespect him. And luckily, we don’t run into Marco on the way back up.
The guards look utterly terrified outside his door as we walk towards them.
“She jumped over to Elena’s side. Be sure to watch her door as well until I get a cage installed over the balcony.”
“A cage?” I snap.
He yanks me closer to him, pointing a finger in my face. “You should be grateful I don’t install a cage in the living room to put you in. How else am I going to be sure you don’t find a way to kill yourself?”
He unlocks the door, pulling me in with him. I’m dragged all the way to the bedroom. “Now, you stay in here for the rest of the day. I need to make some calls and plan what I’m going to do with you.”
Alessandro storms out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I jump onto the bed, burying my face in a pillow.
I almost made it.
And I almost voluntarily had sex with Alessandro. Hell, if he didn’t act like such an overprotective asshole, I was primed to beg for his cock. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to him—then a cold thought washes over me.
I can use that to my advantage. Seeing that he’s going to install a cage on the balcony and that there probably isn’t any way out of this place now, seducing him might be my ticket home.
I didn’t think I’d be someone capable of this sort of thing, but desperate times, right?
And it’s not like I’d have to force myself to flirt with him; clearly, I’m genuinely attracted to him, and his personality will prevent me from falling in love myself.
I can hear him spit commands into his phone from the kitchen to what I assume is a construction company, and a smile forms on my face.
I finally feel like I’m one step ahead of him.