Chapter 5 #2
I had years of practice at hiding my emotions behind a composed mask.
My passion for dance had granted me poise and elegance that I used to shield my true self.
If cruel men saw only a pretty, docile girl, they wouldn’t try to crush my hidden spirit.
I’d slipped up and allowed Luca to see my defiance several times, a mistake I couldn’t afford to repeat. Not if I wanted to keep my soul intact.
Mostly, men left me alone because I didn’t give them reason to rebuke me.
I was able to indulge in my books, ballet, and piano, and I had my sister: my best friend in the world.
I wasn’t sure what kind of life my new husband planned for me, but I would do everything in my power to keep my individuality.
If that meant obeying his commands, so be it.
Obedience didn’t mean true submission. I would never succumb to him completely.
“Nora.” I stiffened at the command in Luca’s tone, the way he said my name with such familiarity. “Come in here.”
He was waiting for me in the bedroom. I straightened my shoulders and schooled my features to a calm mask before stepping away from the bathroom mirror. I was finished getting ready, anyway, and it was probably time to start receiving our guests.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw him standing in the center of the bedroom, right beside his—our—massive bed.
He wore a tux that fit him perfectly, the powerful lines of his body enhanced by the tailored jacket.
His sable hair was pushed back off his brow in an effortless sweep, and his dark stubble roughened his refined appearance ever so slightly, making him appear rakishly handsome.
He held out his hand to me, beckoning me toward him. I realized that I’d stopped in my tracks, staring. I swallowed hard and crossed the room to join him, placing my hand in his.
It was only when his fingers closed around mine that I noticed the syringe in his other hand. Alarm thrilled through me, and I immediately jerked away, but he held me fast.
“It’s just a birth control shot,” he said, his tone low and soothing.
As though that was meant to ease my panic.
Righteous anger spiked my fear. He was taking my choice away from me, taking control of my body and my future.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he rebuked, his dark brows drawing low over his rich brown eyes.
“Like what?” I tossed back before I could stop myself. “Like you’re a monster?”
His jaw ticked. “It’s too dangerous for you to get pregnant right now.
” He spoke with strained calm, as though trying to explain something simple to a small child.
“My father is dying, and Dante won’t be the last man to try to take what’s mine.
We have to wait until I’m the boss and no one will dare to challenge me again. Then we can try for an heir.”
“An heir?” I spluttered. “You mean a baby. A child that I will bear and will be expected to raise.”
His expression darkened to something utterly forbidding. “You will provide our child with a loving home.”
“Of course I’ll love my child, even if his father is a monster.” I wanted to be a mother. I wanted someone to love unconditionally, someone to protect and cherish.
And Luca was trying to take that right from me, at least temporarily.
“I won’t make our family even more vulnerable by risking a pregnancy right now,” he said, voice brooking no argument. “I will protect you, Nora. Don’t make that more difficult than it needs to be.”
I scoffed. He kept telling me not to be difficult. When he was the one making insane demands of me, twisting my life into something that suit his desires.
His eyes glinted with warning. “Are you going to bend over the bed for me, or am I going to have to make you?”
Hands shaking with rage, I turned from him stiffly and braced my elbows on the mattress.
My cheeks flamed when he lifted my skirt and tugged my underwear aside.
It took all my willpower not to whimper with humiliation when the needle stung my bottom.
I bit my lip and refused to bury my face in the duvet in an attempt to hide from him.
I wouldn’t cower. I wouldn’t break.
He stroked my skin like he was reassuring a pet. My fingers flexed into the sheets, and I swallowed a growl.
My anger spiked when he dipped two thick fingers between my legs and brazenly rubbed my clit. I tried to bolt upright, but his free hand pressed down on my lower back, pinning me in place.
“Stop that!” I insisted, my voice vibrating with indignant rage.
He slapped my sex, awakening a stinging burn on my tender flesh. I gasped and went utterly still, mind blanking with shock at the casual way he was handling my most intimate areas.
“You will behave tonight. I won’t have my wife glowering at me in front of our guests.”
He started rubbing my clit again, reaching beneath my underwear this time. It tingled after the sharp slap, and sparks danced through my core as he firmly stimulated the pleasure point. I squirmed to get away from the mortifying sensation, and he pressed down harder on the small of my back.
I was totally helpless in his domineering hands; there was nothing I could do to stop him from touching me however he wished. A shudder rolled through me, a wave of bliss rippling out from my clit to flood my body with tingling warmth.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I hate you,” I whispered, loathing him with every fiber of my being.
“That’s your choice,” he growled, rubbing me in a demanding rhythm that sent pleasure zinging up my spine to flood my mind, overwhelming me. “Be good, and I’ll reward you later.”
His fingertips swirled in the wetness between my lower lips, and then he withdrew his cruelly erotic touch entirely. A strangled sound caught in my throat at the sudden loss of sensation, and he released a satisfied hum.
I shoved up off the mattress, finally freed from his restraining hand. I whirled to face him, unable to compose myself and hide my glare. Hatred was a toxic heat that churned in the pit of my stomach.
He met me with a steady stare and lifted his fingers to his mouth. They were wet with my arousal, and he lewdly licked it off like he was sampling his favorite candy.
My body was incandescent with embarrassment, and I tore my gaze from his. I took in a deep, fortifying breath and drew upon all my willpower. Somehow, I managed to school my features into a composed mask, crushing all my volatile emotions into a tight ball and shoving them deep inside my chest.
I straightened my dress with as much dignity as I could muster, then breezed past my cruel husband, making my way toward the bedroom door.
“Our guests are waiting,” I told him coolly, not glancing back to acknowledge him or the filthy thing he’d just done.
I would behave myself. Not for some perverse reward, but to ensure that he had no reason to humiliate me like that ever again.