Chapter Seventeen
Damiano
I rake my hands through my hair, uncertainty hitting me for the first time in my life. Was I too rough with her last night? She must be sore.
Fuck.
Last night had been…everything. After I collected her from the club yesterday evening, I had us flown directly to the heliport on top of my building.
It took less than an hour for her to arrive safely in my bedroom, in my bed.
At last. I don’t care I had to drug her to force her compliance.
The outcome justifies the deed. I don’t care if I have to chain her to my bed to make her stay, either.
She is mine.
‘I hate you.’ Her words play in a loop in my head.
Is she crying right now? Hating me? Hating what I did? I tell myself I don’t care, that she can loathe me all she wants, as long as she stays mine. The knot in my chest says otherwise.
But she needs to eat. When was her last meal anyway?
I don’t think she’d want to see me yet, not after everything. That’s why I sent Rosa. I thought maybe a gentle, feminine voice would soothe the fire in her. Foolish hope, maybe, but I’m trying.
What’s taking them so long? I let out a breath, sharp and impatient, and drag my fingers through my hair for what must be the hundredth time today. The longer she hides from me, the more the tension coils inside me like a live wire.
I’m not a patient man. No one makes me wait.
“Mr. Santaluccia.” Rosa’s voice is tentative and her tone says it all.
I suppress a growl. Of course she defied me.
“Ms. Lily says she…uh…doesn’t want to come out of the room,” she says delicately.
That’s probably not what she said, but I can’t blame my cook. She has tried.
I press my lips together and exhale slowly through my nose. She is testing my limits.
“I understand,” I say evenly, though my jaw tics with restrained irritation. “I’ll take care of it. Please have everything ready. We’ll be there shortly.” Even if I have to carry her to the table myself.
I stride down the hallway like a man possessed, every step fueled by frustration and a raw, pulsing need I can’t seem to rid myself of. When I reach the bedroom door, I don’t bother to knock. I open it…and stop cold.
She’s standing there with her back to me, motionless, spine straight, head held high. Regal, defiant, like a fucking queen surveying her stolen kingdom.
And she’s wearing my shirt.
My shirt.
What the god-fucking-damn hell?
Sunlight spills in from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, turning the thin fabric sheer. The light is outlining every curve I’ve memorized, every inch I’ve ached for. The swell of her hips. The slope of her back. The bare hint of skin where the hem rides too high.
My pulse slams through me like a battering ram. I’m instantly, painfully hard.
“I am sorry that you have to run back and forth, Rosa, but you can tell his royal darkness to eff off and to get over it. I won’t be gracing him with my presence.”
My urge to spank her is so intense, my hands shake. “Why don’t you tell him yourself?”
She whirls around, surprise written all over her face.
Fuuuuuck.
The air punches out of my lungs. Her nipples are visible through the material and they are hard.
My throat is suddenly dry. My gaze slides down her body to her beautiful legs and I grit my teeth.
I want to pounce on her, rip that shirt off of her and throw her on the bed to feast on her pussy before I fuck her sass right out of her.
But when my gaze snaps back to her face, I find her glaring. Unapologetic. Daring me.
Food. She needs to eat, I remind myself.
I am hanging on by a thread and it takes every ounce of my restraint not to launch myself at her to claim her again. Because Lily, standing in my shirt and staring me down like she’s not the one trapped here, might just be the death of me.
I give her a smile but it feels more like a snarl.
“Very well,” I say, voice low and dangerous. “We can stay in here and spend some more time…getting to know each other, if you’re not hungry.”
I take a step toward her, slow and threatening, and the flicker of panic in her eyes nearly makes me laugh. She tries to mask it with a scowl, but I see right through her.
“Wh-what?” she blurts, backing up a little. “No. Wait, I’ve changed my mind. I am hungry.”
The desperation in her voice is fucking adorable.
Victory tastes like her lips—sweet, sharp and addictive.
She realizes she’s lost this round and makes a dramatic show of stomping past me, chin held high like she’s not retreating.
I let her have the illusion of control. It makes the game so much more fun.
I hold back a chuckle and follow her, trying not to ogle her ass. In my shirt.
But damn, I am no saint.
In the living room, she pauses, her gaze sweeping across the space, eyes sharp and curious, cataloguing every detail like she’s searching for a weakness, an exit, a way out. I let her look. Let her feel the cage, even if it’s gilded.
I wordlessly take the lead and head toward the dining room.
Rosa has outdone herself. The table is overflowing with enough food to feed ten people. Pancakes dusted with powdered sugar, freshly sliced fruit, eggs in every style, cured meats, cheeses, warm bread still fragrant from the oven and various yogurts.
Lily steps in behind me, and I catch the moment her breath hitches.
Her eyes widen, a mere flicker, before she reins it in.
I move to a chair and pull it out for her silently.
For a second I think she’ll ignore it, push past me out of spite, but she sits, slow and careful like she’s playing chess and doesn’t want to tip her queen too early.
Good girl.
I sit on the chair to her left, not bothering to wait for her response as I begin to fill her plate with a little bit of everything—eggs, pancakes, charcuterie, fruit. A feast, as it should be.
Before I can get far, she snatches the plate from my hand with a scowl.
“Stop,” she mutters, looking at the pile of food like it’s a mountain she has no hope of conquering. “It’s too much. I can’t possibly eat all this.”
I shake my head. “Eat up,” I rasp, my voice low and firm, tinged with something darker.
“You’re way too thin.” She snorts in disbelief but starts digging in, fork in hand.
And as she does, I find myself watching her, transfixed.
There’s something so…satisfying about it.
It’s the primal part of me, the part that wants to claim every inch of her, that wants to watch her consume what I’ve provided.
The caveman in me wants to pound his chest in satisfaction.
My nostrils flare and the scent of her, sweet, intoxicating like vanilla and cherry blossoms, hits me hard.
I can’t help but breathe her in, making a mental note to stockpile that goddamn body wash she favors.
Maybe I should just buy the whole fucking factory, so she never runs out. I’ll ensure that—
The thought is cut off when I lean in to pour her a glass of freshly pressed orange juice, my eyes drifting to her throat. The collar of the shirt she’s wearing has fallen slightly open, and I freeze, staring. A dark, blooming mark—my mark—is visible on her collarbone.
A possessive fire erupts in me, and I can’t resist the pull.
Slowly, almost reverently, I reach over and push the collar of the shirt farther to the side.
I trace the hickey’s outline with my finger, almost groaning from the possessiveness it ignites in my gut, my touch gentle but laden with something dangerous.
The sight of her wearing my mark, clad in my shirt, sets something ablaze deep in my chest. My mouth goes dry. Mine.
From now on, she’ll wear one of my shirts every damn day, whether she likes it or not. Even if I have to force her.
Her body is mine to mark, mine to claim, and I’m not about to let her forget it.
I look up into her eyes. They are hooded and her breath comes in short, shallow gasps, her lips slightly parted as she watches me with a mix of defiance and something darker.
Something that’s starting to crack under the surface.
Heat radiates between us, thick and electric.
Without thinking, I lean in, my lips mere inches from hers.
Her breath stirs against my skin and I close the distance, finally tasting her.
She tastes sweet, like orange and strawberries, an intoxicating blend that I can’t get enough of.
I gently stroke her tongue with mine, and her body responds, soft and eager under my touch.
She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t fight me.
And it makes me want more, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.
I’m getting harder by the second, my control slipping a little more.
I could devour her right here, right now.
My hands itch to pull her closer, to claim her fully.
But I have matters to take care of and I reluctantly lean back.
“I will be away for a few hours. Teo will bring your bag and a personal shopper will bring you more clothes.” My voice sounds gruff but I am not the only one to be visibly affected by our kiss. Her pupils are blown and she clearly struggles to regain composure.
“Does that mean that I will have to stay here?”
I frown at her and nod. Of course, where else would she go?
She sighs. “Look, I don’t need new clothes. Why don’t we go to Father’s house and I can pack some more clothes for my…stay?”
“We can go get the things you want this weekend. You don’t need to pack your clothes, though. I will buy you a wardrobe fit for a queen, and that is nonnegotiable.”
She merely shrugs and starts eating again while I watch her in silence. Her face is so expressive I can read every thought that goes through her mind, and right now she is planning to escape again. I smirk.
Game on, little flower.