Vows of Pleasure (The Sovrano Mafia Empire #6)

Chapter 1

Francesca

And then—before I even knew it—he was whisking me out of the kitchen and down a hall I'd never been before.

A moment later, we stood in front of two large doors.

After he pulled me inside, we headed toward a large desk.

This must be his office. It smelled of his cedary musk cologne.

“Oh, you're going to bend me over your desk, Stefan?

That's original,” I said in my best snarky tone.

A loud laugh burst out of him. He glanced at me. “You wish it was only my desk,” he said cryptically. Once at the desk, he wrenched open the top drawer and snatched a large skeleton key from inside. It had a red ribbon tied through the top of it. He slammed the drawer shut and walked us back out.

We trekked down the endless hallways in silence. Stefan was so focused on something—probably my behind—that he seemed like a man on a mission.

A mission to spank me.

Whatever.

I'd bend over.

He'd cop a feel and smack my behind a few times. If that was how this guy got his jollies—then so be it. Deep down, I knew Stefan would never hurt me. He'd called the doctor twice for me. There was no way this man was about to do anything stupid.

So, he had some kinks.

Lots of people did.

He obviously had some kind of deal going on with feeding me.

I didn't mind that, though. Not at all. I'd never had anyone besides my granny care if I ate or not.

It was nice to have someone do that for me.

And yes, maybe I got off on it, too, a little bit.

Mostly because I could tell how much he enjoyed it. Or, like he said—needed it.

What felt like miles later—we walked into a living room of sorts.

It surprised me a bit because the furniture in here was so different from the rest of the house.

There were a few sectionals along the walls.

And they were big and comfy-looking. There were also a few large, square ottomans scattered here and there.

Ah. So, this was where Stefan was going to spank me. I mean—it looked cozy and comfortable. I wouldn't half mind bending over his lap and—

But he didn't stop walking. He pulled me to an intricately carved wooden door. Whoever made it must've spent a billion hours on it. I let my fingers skim over the carefully crafted design. I hadn't noticed the lock in the door until Stefan shoved the key inside the black iron lock.

It turned with a loud click.

And then he turned the large, black iron doorknob and opened the door.

A red glow greeted us as he pulled me into a small stairwell. A small, winding, spiral staircase led down to—somewhere.

I stopped moving, and grasped the iron handrail and held on. “Where are you taking me?” I asked, for the first time, wondering if I was going to end up on a serial killer news exclusive.

And then I laughed internally. Because who would even report me missing?

No one.

Stefan didn't answer. He just turned his head and frowned.

“Are you taking me to a dungeon or something?”

He let out a small, amused laugh. His eyes raked up and down my body. “Or something.” Then he tugged on my hand and made me walk in front of him.

And stupidly—I did.

Down.

Down.

And.

Down the winding stairs. My head began to spin and grow dizzy. Thankfully, we got to the bottom before I got nauseous. When I looked up—I had to grab the railing even tighter. “What is this place?” I asked unnecessarily.

Because at just one glance—anyone would know exactly what this was.

And what went on here.

And that was—kinky, kinky sex.

“I think that's rather obvious, Francesca. Don't you?” He pulled me through his sex dungeon as my eyes tried to take in—and make sense—of everything I was seeing.

Rows and rows of long instruments. Probably used to hit or spank with.

Various sizes of black leather cuffs with chain links on them.

A large four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room. Black satin—or silk—sheets covering it.

And many different setups around the room. A large X stood in the corner. With metal rings at each end.

“Are—” I said over my dry throat, “are you chaining me up down here?”

Stefan chuckled and stopped beside a flat, table-like thing. It wasn't something where you'd serve food, though. The top of it was soft, brown leather.

“First of all,” he said, pushing me gently toward the edge of the table. “I will never chain you up. Restrain you? Yes. Absolutely.” He walked up behind me, his body flush against my back. “Because you need to be restrained, Francesca,” he whispered into my ear, making me shiver.

Then, he set his hand on the middle of my back. “But this time—your first time—you'll lie down for me.” He pushed me down, so the upper half of my body lay flat against the cool leather tabletop. “Because I need you to fucking listen to me.”

His hand dragged from my back to my behind. He rubbed one cheek before squeezing it. “Now, let's start with a few questions. Shall we?” He removed his hand from my skin. “First question. Are you my wife?”

I let out a sigh and shook my head. “Not really, no.”

Smack.

Right on my behind.

I gasped at the shocking feeling of it.

“I'll ask you again. Francesca, are you my wife? My real, honest to God, legal wife?”

What was he trying to prove? This was ridiculous. “You were forced to marry me, Stefan. That doesn't count as a real marriage. No matter how—legal it might be.”

Smack.

I inhaled sharply—but I also felt my lower belly clench.

Dammit.

I could feel myself begin to drip between my legs.

“I married you because I wanted to. Since the first fucking time I laid eyes on you. I knew you'd be my wife.”

This time, I gasped for a whole other reason. His words spun around in my head. I wanted what he said to be true.

“Now, tell me why you left me in your apartment. With only a shitty fucking excuse for a letter as a goodbye?” His hand squeezed my other cheek.

I swallowed and answered him, “You didn't need me anymore. And you were having a hard time separating from that truth, because I helped you in the hospital.”

Smack.

“Bullshit, Francesca.” I couldn't see him, but I could tell he was gritting his teeth. “Tell me the truth. Tell me why you left me in the middle of the night without a word.”

When I stayed silent—

Smack.

And then—

Smack.

Fine.

If the big jerk wanted to know—

I'd tell him.

“Because I'm not pretty and sophisticated like Giselle and Eve. Okay? I knew you'd get tired of me soon enough. So, I left. Because staying and knowing one day you'd leave me—” my voice cracked then—along with my heart, “just hurt too much.”

Stefan's hand stilled on my behind. I heard him let out a frustrated sigh.

I braced myself.

Waiting for another smack.

Another spank that never came. Because before I knew it—I was being pulled up and spun around.

And lifted up in Stefan's arms. He carried me to a black, oversized chair that I hadn't seen.

He plunked down, and we sank into it. It wasn't leather like most of the furniture in here.

Instead, it was a soft, fluffy material.

Stefan pulled an even softer black blanket around us and lay back with me still on his lap.

A minute or two later, he turned his head to me and spoke,. “Thank you for finally telling me why you left.”

A sarcastic laugh bubbled out of me. “I didn't really have a choice. Did I?”

“Ah, shit.” He let his head fall back against the chair. “I forgot to give you a safe word.” He looked at me. “I'm sorry. And yes, you will always have the power to stop things. My brain goes into overdrive when I'm around you. Fuck. I'm sorry. That was reckless of me.”

Did he just say—safe word?

“We'll decide on one later. Before we come down here next time.”

My eyebrows nearly shot off my face. “Next time?”

His hand cupped the side of my face, and he drew me closer.

“There will be many, many next times, Francesca.

I'm going to do all kinds of things to that curvy, beautiful body of yours.

You have no idea the things I'm going to make you feel.” His lips touched mine in a devastating kiss.

“And if you ever compare yourself to Giselle and Eve again, you're going to end up in exactly the same place. Do you understand?”

I moved back a bit and said, “But—”

And that was all he let me get out. “No fucking buts, Francesca. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed while he kept talking.

“And part of that appeal is that you have no fucking idea how stunning you really are.

Yes, Giselle and Eve are pretty in their own right.

That's obvious. Anyone with eyes can see that.

But you have something different. Something they don't have. I felt an immediate connection to you the second our eyes met. And that would have happened whether I was bleeding out on a metal table or not.”

He held my head with both of his hands. “I love you, Francesca.

With my whole fucking heart. And I've wanted to marry you from the first moment I saw you.

I knew you weren't on the same page. But we were definitely in the same book.

You just had to catch up to me. That's all. I was always going to make you my wife. Raul simply sped up the process.” His eyes stared deeply into my soul.

“You were always mine, Francesca. And you know it.”

I couldn't have held back the tears that began streaming down my face. This man had made my heart explode. “But you saw where I lived. My horrible apartment.” I sniffled. “Do you know that I had to rely on the food bank for half of each month?”

Stefan nodded slowly. “I know.”

Oh, gosh.

He knew.

Of course he did.

“You found a way to feed yourself. And me. I'll always be grateful. You have no idea how much you healed me.”

The tears kept falling down my cheeks. “You would have healed up anywhere.”

He vehemently shook his head. “Not here.” He grabbed my hand and placed it over his heart. “Only you could have healed me here.”

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

This man.