Chapter 5
Nora
I awoke with a start, instantly sensing that something was wrong. The masculine scent that saturated my senses didn’t belong in my bedroom. This wasn’t my bed. The sheets were a softer texture, and the duvet was heavier than mine.
I sat bolt upright, and cool air kissed my chest. I was naked. I never slept naked.
Oh, god. I was in Luca’s room. In his bed.
No. Our bed. I was married to Luca Vitale, and he’d sealed our union when he’d taken my virginity so ruthlessly last night.
I glanced around wildly, taking in my surroundings for the first time; I’d been too terrified to focus on the décor yesterday.
The bedroom was a study in rich shades of red—from the burgundy walls to the Persian rug that covered most of the dark hardwood floor.
A black leather armchair dominated the far corner of the room, set beside a drinks cabinet.
A decanter filled with amber liquid sat atop it, along with heavy cut crystal glasses.
Everything about the room exuded masculinity and wealth.
My attention turned to the bed. I’d noted the black metal slats that made up the headboard yesterday—when he’d cuffed my hands above my head, rendering me helpless to resist him as he claimed my body. My cheeks flamed at the memory, and I tugged the sheets up to my chin, covering my nakedness.
I yelped and clutched the sheets tighter when a door opened to my right.
Steam rolled out of the bathroom, and Luca appeared at the threshold.
He wore nothing but a towel slung low over his hips, his powerful body on display.
A dusting of hair darkened his defined chest, tapering into a trail that led down his rippling abs before disappearing beneath the white towel.
He leaned against the doorjamb, and my gaze snapped to his. I flushed all the way up to my ears, knowing that he’d caught me staring at him. He truly was magnificent, even more powerful and imposing that I’d imagined in my most wicked fantasies.
I shook my head slightly, tearing my eyes from his. Those fantasies had brought me low and made me more vulnerable to him than I could’ve imagined. The pleasure he’d wrung from my untried body was mortifying, especially my arousal when he’d spanked me in the car.
It was horrifically wrong that I’d felt such bliss when he’d claimed me without my full consent. I’d chosen the pleasure over pain, but he hadn’t given me a choice when it came to surrendering my body to him.
My husband.
He’d forced me into this marriage. He’d kidnapped me and taken away my freedom.
My stomach dropped at the memory of my sister’s screams as I’d been carried off by the brute like I was his prize of war. Giana must be terrified for me.
I took a breath and skewered my new husband with a defiant glare. Better me than her. Giana was far too gentle and sweet for this beast of a man. I could endure his ruthless demands, but she would break beneath his onslaught.
His dark brows drew together at my glower. “In a bad mood this morning, kitten?”
“My name is Nora,” I snapped, not caring for the diminutive nickname. It reminded me of how I’d melted in his hands last night, and the shame of the memory was almost unbearable.
He cocked his head at me. “You prefer Nora over Elenora?” His deep voice caressed the more familiar version of my name, and I suppressed a shiver.
I shouldn’t have revealed that. He didn’t deserve the intimacy of my true name.
He blew out a sigh, clearly frustrated by my prickly demeanor. “I thought we were past this antagonism. Things don’t have to be difficult between us.”
“As long as I honor and obey you?” I asked, repeating my forced vows with venom.
“Yes,” he replied simply. “You will obey me, Nora.”
It was so much worse when he used my name. My gnashing teeth cut the inside of my cheek, and I tasted copper on my tongue.
He sighed again. “I have things to do, and so do you. The wedding planner and decorator will be here in less than an hour. You will help them set up.”
I blinked at him. “We’re already married.” I couldn’t keep the trace of bitterness from my voice.
He tipped his chin back, making his strong jaw appear even more forbidding. “We’re hosting a reception tonight. Try to look less miserable about the arrangement, darling.”
Anger heated my chest at the mocking endearment. “And what will you be doing to help, dear?” I shot back.
His lips quirked at the corners for a fraction of a heartbeat, as though I’d amused him. “I’m going to invite the most important members of our organization personally. Including your father.” His expression darkened. “His scheme with Dante is over. You’re mine now.”
I stiffened at the possessiveness in his tone. “I’m not an object to be traded,” I insisted. “I’m not your property.”
His eyes flashed. “And what alternative would you prefer? Dante Torrio? This marriage has saved you from him. I’ll keep you and protect you, Nora, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not a possession to be kept. I might be your wife, but I don’t belong to you.”
He prowled toward me, and I shrank back against the headboard. The cold metal drew a shiver to the surface of my skin, contrasting with the heat of my anger. Despite my fear of my husband’s raw strength, I lifted my chin and allowed my glower to clash with his.
He loomed over me, leaning in close as his arms bracketed my waist, his hands pressing into the pillows on either side of my hips.
He caged me in, close enough that the heat of his own anger rolled off his body to tease over my pebbled skin.
He didn’t stop until his lips were an inch from mine, his blazing eyes filling my world.
“You are mine, Nora. And after tonight, everyone will know it. No one will take you from me. Not your father. And not Dante. You do belong to me, kitten. Not him.”
As he spoke his intense declarations, his features tightened into something fierce and terrifyingly possessive. In that moment, I realized that he hated my father and Dante, and taking me was more than a power play for him; it was a vicious triumph. I truly was a trophy to him, conquered and owned.
Before I could find the words to express my horror and rage, he crushed his lips to mine.
I lashed out, shoving at his solid chest. He didn’t seem to notice my fury.
Or maybe it simply didn’t matter to him.
He nipped at my lips, demanding that I open for him.
I resisted, so he fisted my hair and pulled sharply, forcing a gasp from me.
His tongue surged into my mouth, claiming me mercilessly.
Heat flooded my cheeks, my chest, my stomach. It bloomed between my legs, and I hated that my anger was tinged with traitorous arousal.
Before he forced me to melt for him, he released me from his savage kiss, satisfied at my surrender.
“Go get ready,” he ordered, his features stern and forbidding. “You have a busy day ahead of you.”
He finally pulled away completely, giving me space to breathe. I hesitated, clutching the sheets to cover my breasts. He was staring right at me. If I got out of bed, he’d see my naked body.
“Go on.” His deep voice resonated through the room, brooking no argument.
Hating him, I tossed the covers aside and got to my feet. I didn’t look at him as I stalked toward the bathroom. When I passed him, stinging pain bloomed on my bottom, and a loud smack reverberated around us. He’d spanked me again. Like a naughty child.
My entire body burned with humiliation and something darker that I refused to acknowledge.
I scooted away from him and slammed the bathroom door between us, leaning against it to heave in several deep breaths.
The bathroom smelled like his cologne; it saturated the humid air that was still heavy from his shower.
The man filled my senses, was under my skin. I was still sore where he’d buried himself deep inside me. My husband had staked his claim, and tonight, he would show off his trophy. Everyone would know that I was his: Nora Vitale.
One of Luca’s guards, Gabriele, had watched me all day, ensuring I was a good little wife and planned my forced reception.
I’d performed my tasks with poise and dignity, not betraying an ounce of the fear that made my insides squirm every time I caught sight of the menacing mountain of a man.
Just like my father’s cruel guards, I was certain Gabriele wouldn’t hesitate to beat me if I disobeyed.
So, I had helped plan a beautiful wedding reception.
By the time I’d left the ballroom, it was festooned with pink and white roses, and the band was setting up for the evening.
Now, I was putting on the last brushes of my makeup, making myself perfectly presentable in my tea length white dress.
It was lovely, covered in delicate lace and seed pearls, with a sweetheart neckline that barely hinted at my cleavage.
The whole image maintained an illusion of modesty.
It was too late for that. Luca had already claimed my innocence.
The white, demure design was a mockery, a pretty lie.
I fisted my hand around my makeup brush and studied myself in the mirror. I looked flawless, a beautiful doll for my new husband to own. To keep.
I pressed my petal pink lips together, swallowing the sourness on my tongue.
I rolled my shoulders and straightened, gathering my resolve.
Just like yesterday, I could endure this.
I could endure anything Luca threw at me; I wouldn’t allow him to break me.
He could treat me as a possession for the rest of our lives, but I wouldn’t lose myself, my identity.
What he did to me didn’t matter. He wouldn’t alter the core of who I was.