Chapter 22
22
NICOLAS
Aria cried for nearly an hour before finally settling into an exhausted silence.
During that time, I imagined a hundred ways to kill her brother. Each more brutal than the last. Each one more deserving of the pain he’s caused. But none of them feel like enough. I don’t know exactly what happened when she saw him, but I know this—she left to meet Marco and returned in tears. That’s all I need to know.
He’ll pay for this. One way or another.
The room is quiet except for the steady rhythm of her breathing. She’s curled up against me, her body small and fragile, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
I run my fingers through her hair, the soft strands slipping between them. Now that her sobs have stopped, I can finally think—strategize, plan, figure out how to fix what’s broken. But more than anything, I need to make her feel better.
I shift slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She lets out a small sigh, her fingers tightening for a moment before loosening again. I wait, letting the silence settle between us before I speak.
“I can make you feel better if you let me.” My voice is low and steady. “Do you trust me, Bambina ?”
She lifts her head, blinking up at me. Her eyes are still red, but the raw, broken look has faded slightly. She swallows hard, then nods. “Yes.”
Relief spreads through my chest, but I keep my focus. “Trust isn’t something that stays still,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her jaw and then tracing the curve of her lower lip. “It grows. It strengthens. Just like love.”
She watches me closely, searching my face like she might find the answers buried there if she just looks hard enough. I press a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead, then shift away.
Her brows knit slightly as I stand, but she doesn’t say a word. She only watches as I move across the room to the drawer where I keep the things that matter. The things that teach lessons. The things that build trust.
When I return to the bed, she’s sitting up, the sheets pooling around her waist. The bedside lamp casts a soft glow on her skin, making her look fragile and untouched. But she’s not untouched—not by life, not by pain.
Her gaze flickers to what’s in my hands. A small glint of silver catches the light.
Her lips part slightly when she realizes what I’m holding. Handcuffs. But there’s no fear in her eyes—just curiosity.
I move toward her slowly, letting the silence stretch, letting the tension coil tighter between us.
“This is the first thing that taught me control.”
She exhales softly, her gaze locked on mine. I sit on the edge of the bed, running my fingers along the inside of her wrist before taking her hand. “It also taught me trust,” I murmur, pressing a small kiss to her skin. “The two go hand in hand, you see.”
She watches me, listening intently, her breathing steady but deep. I guide her back against the pillows, trailing my lips over her collarbone before lifting her wrists above her head. The cool metal clicks softly into place, locking her in.
She doesn’t resist
Her pulse flutters at the base of her throat, fast and unsteady, but when I look into her eyes—dark, heated—I know it’s not from fear.
Yes. Forget the pain. Focus on me.
I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be gentle or cater to someone else’s needs. I’ve never had to. But I know what I want to achieve with this.
I want her to know she’s wanted. That she’s safe here, with me. That no matter what happens outside these walls, she has this— us . So, I focus on that thought and let it fuel my movements.
“I want to teach you a lesson,” I murmur, slowly peeling away her clothes until she’s left in nothing but her panties. Her nipples are tight, begging for my touch, and I don’t deny myself the pleasure of drinking in the sight of her.
“I thought you wanted to make me feel good?” she asks, finally breaking the silence. It’s the first thing she’s said since she came back home in tears, and damn if I haven’t missed the sound of her voice.
I smirk, trailing my fingers over the curve of her waist. “I do want to make you feel good. But more than that, I want you to feel good about yourself . You don’t see how incredible you are. That changes tonight.”
She tilts her head, studying me. There’s something softer in her eyes now, a flicker of amusement as if she thinks I’m teasing. But I’m not.
I reach down, cup her bare breasts in my hands, and squeeze. Her breath catches, her back arching ever so slightly in response.
“Say it,” I murmur, my thumbs circling her nipples before pinching them just enough to make her gasp.
“Say, I’m a badass.’”
Her lips part, a shiver running through her as I roll the sensitive peaks between my fingers. She bites her lower lip, trying to hold back a reaction.
I tug a little harder, and a sharp, breathy moan escapes her.
“Say it, Bambina .”
She swallows, her voice a shaky whisper. “I’m a badass.”
“Not convincing enough.”
I lift my hand and bring it down hard on her breasts, the sharp smack echoing through the room. Her eyes widen in shock, her body tensing as she instinctively tugs against the cuffs. But it lasts only a moment before she stills. Her gaze lifts to mine—dark, trusting, full of surrender. It’s as if she’s acknowledging that she’s completely at my mercy… and she likes it.
I rub the reddened skin, soothing the sting. “Every time you doubt yourself, you’ll be punished,” I murmur, my fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over the warmth of her flesh.
Shifting, I lean back against the headboard and pull her across my lap in one smooth motion. She lands with a soft gasp, her chest pressed against the bed, her cheek resting on the back of her cuffed hand.
The position must be slightly uncomfortable, but she doesn’t complain.
Her bare ass is now raised before me, an offering I don’t take lightly.
I run a hand down the curve of her spine, watching as a shiver rolls through her. She has no idea just how much power she holds—not just over me, but the whole fucking world if she wanted.
“So try again,” I murmur, my hand resting gently on the small of her back. Tell me what a badass you are.”
She hesitates, her breath hitching slightly. “I… guess I’m okay.”
I shake my head, leaning down so my lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Not good enough, Bambina .”
“Wrong answer.” I bring my hand down, spanking her ass.
“You are strong. You are fierce. And you deserve to know it.”
A shiver runs through her as I run my palm over the curve of her body. “Say it,” I whisper.
She swallows hard, giving a little hiss, the pain dancing across her curves, before finally breathing out. “Okay! I’m badass.”
A satisfied smile tugs at my lips. “That’s my girl.”
“And tell me why you should be treated like a queen.” I rub my palm over her round curves, ready to punish her again.
She shifts slightly against me. “I don’t know… why would anyone treat me like that?” Her voice is quiet, almost unsure.
I don’t know if she’s saying that to get punished or if she actually believes it. The whole world should worship at her feet. “Then the panties will have to come down.” I hook my finger in the waistband of her panties, tugging them slowly down till they rest at the tops of her thighs. I spank her ass, once on the right side, watching a pink handprint bloom on her skin. I give her a matching spank on the other side.
She moans softly, shifting her hips, her voice barely above a whisper. “They should worship me.”
A slow smile spreads across my lips as I run my hand over the curve of her body, my touch reverent.
“That’s right,” I murmur as I smooth a hand over her naked ass. “And so should I.”
Gently, I guide her up from my lap, helping her onto her knees before me. Her gaze flickers to mine, searching, hesitant yet undeniably drawn in. I reach for her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear my fingers lingering against her skin.
“Please. Do me the honors of having a goddess suck my cock.”
Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for my waist, undoing my belt and unzipping my pants, her movements unhurried, deliberate. I help her free my cock from my clothing, since the restraints limit her movements. It stands proud and tall, waiting for her. Her breath catches as she looks up at me, a soft, teasing smile curving her lips. She wets her lip, the tip of her tongue flicking out as she takes in the effect she has on me. And I let her. Because in this moment, she holds all the power.
“Fine. I’ll grant you, mere mortal, that honor,” she teases, her voice light but laced with something deeper. Once again, I don’t know if she realizes how true that is.
The moment her lips wrap around my cock, my breath catches. My head tilts slightly, eyes fluttering shut as a deep groan escapes me.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur, reaching for her, my fingers tangling in the ends of her long ponytail. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.”
She moves slowly, her touch deliberate, her lips soft and warm, as she wraps those full, rose-red lips around the head of my cock again. The heat and wetness of her mouth on me, the way she looks up at me through her lashes, almost make me come. I take a slow breath, my fingers gliding down the silky strands of her hair.
“There's a good girl. That feels so fucking good,” I whisper, my voice rough with need.
She continues, her touch growing more confident, and takes my balls in her hands, stroking them as she lowers her mouth further down my cock. Her tongue’s tracing gentle patters over its head, sending a surge of electricity down my spine. She’s really giving it her all. Every movement, every flicker of sensation, pulls me deeper into her spell.
I clench my jaw, trying to hold back. If she keeps going like this, I’m going to lose control.
And I have plans for her—ones that last much longer than this moment.
Gently, I tug her hair, tilting her face up toward mine. “Why don’t you ride me? My voice is thick with desire, rough around the edges. “Sit on top of me and show this mere mortal how sexy you are when you fuck your man. I want to watch you take what’s yours.”
Her breath hitches. My cock stands tall and ready for her. Slowly, she slips off her panties, her movement both shy and bold. My eyes stay locked on hers as she straddles me, her knees pressing into the mattress.
The moment she sinks into me, a deep groan rumbles from my chest. She lowers her sex down onto mine, her muscles gripping my cock tight. She’s warm, tight, and utterly perfect. I grip her hips, holding her still for a second, just taking her in—the way she bites her lip, the way her body molds against mine.
The look on her pretty face is sweet and shy but so fucking sultry; heat rushes into my core. She’s more confident now. More sure of herself. And damn, it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever seen. She has an idea of what power she has and she intends to use it.
I give what I can reach of her ass a slap. “Ride me, Bambina. Fuck me good.”
She starts slow, moving up and down gently, her breath hitching with each rise and fall. A soft whimper escapes her lips as her pussy tightens around me, already on edge.
She closes her eyes, letting herself go. Surrendering to the pleasures. Her movements grow bolder, more certain, her confidence building with each roll of her hips.
I match her rhythm, lifting my hips, driving deeper, shoving the full length of my naked cock inside her. The sensation is intoxicating—skin against skin, heat melting into heat.
She gasps, tilting her head back, lost in the moment.
Her hands reach up, fumbling briefly before tugging the tie from her hair. The dark strands cascade over her shoulder, catching the light, and silver threads woven into the braids shimmer as she moves.
She’s breathtaking.
Her hair swings with her motion, wild and untamed, just like the pleasure pooling between us. A deep moan spills from her lips as she presses her hands against my chest, her nails dragging across my skin.
“Oh my God, Nicolas,” she breathes, her voice trembling. “I love this… I love how you make me feel.”
I reach up, cupping her breast, squeezing until a moan spills from her lips. “Every man out there would beg for the chance to be fucked by a goddess like you.” I release her, my fingers trailing down between us, gliding along her slick folds. I find her clit, pressing firmly as I growl, “But you’re mine. All fucking mine.”
She whimpers, her body shuddering as another orgasm crashes over her. This one is stronger—her walls clench around me, her pussy clamping down on my cock until I, too, know I will come soon. I keep rubbing, keep stroking, pushing her higher, milking another orgasm from her as she fucks me. She cries out my name, her voice breaking through the silence of the night.
“Nicolas!”
She moves faster, her hips grinding against mine, riding me harder, desperate for every last wave of pleasure. My body tightens, the pressure building, my control unraveling. I grab her hips, thrusting deep one last time, holding her against me as my climax overtakes me. My cock pulses, spilling inside her, hot and wet, filling her with my cum. The heat of it is spreading between us, leaking down on her thighs.
For a long moment, we just breathe, our bodies tangled, our hearts pounding in sync.
I kiss her damp shoulder, my voice low and satisfied. “You did good, Bambina. So fucking good.”
She stays on top of me, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts as she recovers. A lazy, satisfied smile spreads across her lips. “Oh my God. That was so sexy and incredible. I loved it.”
She leans down, her hair cascading around us like a curtain, brushing over my skin as she presses a slow, lingering kiss to my lips.
“Thank you, Nicolas.”
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my fingers tracing her cheek. “For what?”
“For making me feel good.”
I reach into my pants pocket, fingers finding the small key. With a quiet click, I unlock the handcuffs, freeing her wrists. She rubs them lightly, but there’s no hesitation, no fear.
I have her trust. Completely.
It’s delicate, something I have to hold carefully and protect fiercely. But I won’t let it break.
I’ll show her with every kiss, every whispered word against her skin—that she’s powerful. That she’s wanted. That she deserves the world. That she’s more valued than she knows. And as long as there’s air in my lungs, I will stop at nothing to show her.
She sighs softly. “And thank you… for being here for me.”
I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “Even if the world disappears, I’ll still be here, Bambina .”
Her lips curve into a tired smile, and I pull her in for a slow, lingering kiss. My body already aches for her again, but her eyes droop as my tongue explores her mouth's sweetness. Sleep claims her.
I watch her for a moment, peaceful and vulnerable in my arms. And then, unable to resist, I spread her legs and let my tongue take its time, savoring her pussy. I lap at the remnants of our lovemaking, teasing her with slow, deliberate strokes. She moans in her sleep, her body shivering beneath my touch, drifting between dreams and the edges of consciousness.
When I’m done, I pull her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.
The next morning, I wake before she does. She’s still curled up in the sheets, her hair spilling across the pillows, her breathing steady and soft. I let myself watch her for a moment, memorizing her quiet beauty.
Then, reluctantly, I slip out of bed and make a call.
By the time she wakes, breakfast is already waiting downstairs.
She blinks sleepily at me as I sit on the edge of the bed, my hand brushing over her hip. She sniffs, her voice still thick with sleep. “Breakfast is ready?”
I nod. “From the restaurant where we had our first date.”
A slow smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “You remember?”
I lean in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I remember everything.”
She flushes slightly but doesn’t argue.
We eat together, and she looks lighter for the first time since yesterday. Not completely healed—not yet—but a little less weighed down. A little more like herself.
After breakfast, I don’t let her retreat into the house, into solitude.
Instead, I take her with me—to every meeting, every discussion. I let her see the world I move through, the weight I carry. If she’s going to be part of this life, she needs to understand it.
She sits beside me at the long conference table, quietly observing as my men report on shipments, negotiations, and shifting alliances. Her fingers rest lightly against the polished wood, her expression unreadable, but I can see how she’s absorbing everything, piecing it all together.
I glance at her at one point, and she meets my gaze. There’s no fear in her eyes. No hesitation. Just understanding.
She knows who I am now. What I do. And she’s still here.
Under the table, I reach for her hand, my fingers brushing over hers.
She doesn’t pull away.
She stays.