Chapter 4
Four
Her full lips open on a pout. Even with them being chapped and the skin peeling, they still look delicious. The beautiful chestnut color of her eyes is on full display as they widen with surprise.
Interesting. She doesn’t think we were there for her brother. Does that mean she believes we were there for her?
“I’m not going to ask you again, piccola cerva .” It amuses me the way her eyes darken and her jaw clenches when I call her a little deer. Some women find nicknames endearing, but it seems the little fawn I’ve caught in my grasp believes it to be condescending.
In this case, it might be a bit of both. I like seeing that fire in her eyes.
A beat passes, then another. My men throw glances at one another as they sip on their drinks and watch the scene play out before them. There aren’t many in my world that would dare defy me. Even these men, the ones I keep closest to me, rarely question or ignore my orders.
“Where is Elio, Gia?”
She sits up straighter in her chair, chin tipping back, giving her a holier-than-thou attitude that might work if it wasn’t dampened by her hollow cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and tired expression. Her lips purse and she stares straight ahead, past my men, refusing to say a word.
That won’t do at all.
“I will punish you, Gia,” I warn her. “Right here, in front of my men. If you don’t start talking, I will push those leggings down to your ankles and bare your ass before taking my belt to it until you are begging me to stop.”
Her gaze eyes to mine, and I can see the question there. She’s asking herself if I will really do it. Yes. Yes, I will. Her throat bobs, gaze pinging from one man to another before setting back on me.
“I don’t know.”
A muscle in my face twitches and my eyes narrow on her.
“You don’t want to play this game with me, Gia.”
She huffs a breath. “I’m not playing with you,” she protests. “Do you think that if I know where he is I would be starving in a cabin in the middle of fucking redneck valley?”
That is something I’ve been thinking about. Why did she never leave when the food ran low? Doesn’t mean she isn’t lying, however.
“Watch your language,” I chastise her. She’s appalled at the reprimand, her eyebrows puckering in the middle and her little button nose scrunching in distaste. “Tell me why he had you hiding in the middle of nowhere.”
Gia shifts in her seat, her eyes lowering to her lap where she is fiddling with her hands.
“He saved me,” she admits quietly. Her statement is so quiet, in fact, I barely hear her. “Helped me escape my—” she pauses for a moment before continuing. “—our father.” She corrects herself. Thinking back to the DNA tests, I recall that the date they were tested was nearly six months ago
“Why did you need to escape, Fino?” I’m curious why Gia would want to escape her father. From what I recall, he doted on her as a baby. Her mother as well.
Gia’s eyes find mine again, her head tilting curiously when I say her father’s name.
“You don’t know?” She eyes me suspiciously as if she suspects me of lying to her.
“No,” I say dryly. “I came looking for Elio. Not you.”
The rush of relief that visibly runs through her fascinates me. It is like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders and she can finally breathe.
“You didn’t come for me?” There is timid hope vining through her words and the dullness of her eyes begins to melt away.
“No,” I tell her. “I couldn’t care less about you. If my sottocapo hadn’t informed me that you were Elio’s biological sister, I would have left you out in the cold to die.” She reels back as if I slapped her, the hard truth not something she wants to hear. But that is the way I work. I don’t keep things that aren’t useful to me. Gia, for the moment, is useful. The moment she ceases to be is the moment I get rid of her.
“Good to know,” she mutters.
“Now answer my question,” I growl, tired of repeating myself. “Why did you need to escape Fino?”
Another beat of silence but I let it hang between us. From the way she is fidgeting with her fingers and biting her lip, she is working up to tell me. It piques my interest, which is rare. Whatever caused her to run from her father must be bad if it makes her afraid to say it out loud.
“He sold me,” she whispers, the words shaky as they leave her lips. My men’s faces darken. If there is one thing we don’t deal in, it is sex trafficking. My father refused to bend to the flesh trade, something that put an even bigger target on his back when he was Don because he refused to allow anyone within his boundaries to do so either. It meant he took apart many gangs and other mafia who tried to set up shop.
“To who?” I questioned further. Who would Fino sell his daughter to and why?
“Salvatore Romano.”
Motherfucker .
Why the hell would Fino sell his daughter to his own Don? By right, Salvatore could have just taken her…unless he is already married. A married Don or made man does not have the authority to simply demand a mafia princess. They must purchase one as their goomah , or mistress. It isn’t common, especially among virgin mafia princesses. Most fathers aren’t willing to sell their virgin daughter to someone who is already married because it doesn’t help them climb the ladder. They aren’t bound by a marriage contract. The only daughters worth selling were those they couldn’t marry off because they weren’t ‘pure’ any longer.
Another disgusting tradition my father did away with when he took over.
“Why?”
Gia shakes her head, her chest heaving as she struggles to control her breathing. Her hands are clenched into fists on her lap, one knee bouncing. What is she remembering that makes her this scared to speak up ?
Lifting my gaze away from the girl, I glance at Dario who shakes his head.
“I’ll let that one go. For now,” I say, my gaze turning back to her. “But you will tell me.”
Fire lights her eyes when she turns to me, her face tight with incredulity and anger. Maybe her nickname should be little spitfire, instead.
“I’m not telling you anything,” she hisses. “Not why I ran. Not where my brother could be. Nothing. So go ahead and kill me if that is what you plan on doing, but you won’t get anything out of me.”
“We shall see.”
Her lower lip trembles with the fear she is attempting to hide, no doubt remembering the warming I gave her not just ten minutes ago. A promise I am going to uphold because I am nothing if not a man of my word.
When I rise from my chair, panic paints itself across her face. She knows what is coming. My cock aches with the thought of what I am about to do with her. I don’t share with my men, but as Don they expect me to be able to control my woman. Gia may not be mine, but she is my prisoner and under my control. Her outburst cannot go unpunished.
Leaning forward, I take her firmly by the arm and yank her toward me. Gia squeals in protest when I shove her across my lap. None of my men say a word. They aren’t hooting and hollering at her punishment. This isn’t what that is about and they know that.
No one bats an eye when I slam my palm across her ass. This is what they expect, as they would do with their women if they were to disobey.
“Stop,” she protests, her hands reaching back to block my next blow .
“Move your hands, little deer,” I warn her.
“Please—” She keeps using her hands as a shield.
I tilt my head at Dario who grunts as he stands from his chair with the pair of cuffs dangling from his fingers.
“Not here,” she begs as she shakes her head from side to side.
Dario takes her wrists in his hands and pulls them in front of her, quickly securing the cuffs before he takes a step back and heads to take his seat again. Anger burns inside me at seeing his hands on her, but I tamper it down. He only followed my instructions; it was her disobedience that forced him into that position.
I reach between our bodies and with quick fingers unlatch my belt and pull it from the loops. A scream tears through her lips when she sees me folding the leather in half.
“No!”
Not heeding her cry, I let the leather fly, striking it across her backside in steady strokes. Ten strokes later, she is a sobbing mess, tears falling from her eyes as I deliver lash after lash. The strokes are hard enough to redden her ass, but not hard enough to bruise or permanently damage. That isn’t what this is about. I’m not doing this to torture her like I would other prisoners who disobeyed me, but to teach her who is in charge.
And that is me.
Disobedience will not be tolerated.
My men watch with bored expressions on their faces. They are soldiers who understand what happens when one of them doesn’t obey. Gia will learn as they did.
“Please”
“I warned you,” I remind her. “I warned you what I would do. You are not a guest here. The only reason you are alive is because I chose to have mercy.” I strike her again. “We are not equals. This is not a vacation. You will tell me what I want to know when I want to know it. I saved you and therefore I own you. Disobedience will be met with swift discipline. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she sobs.
“Yes, sir,” I inform her. “Say it.”
When she remains silent, I give her another two strokes.
“Yes, sir,” she gasps.
I won’t lie, I am glad she gave me a reason to punish her, but I hate the effect it has on me. I’ve punished women before and none of them made me anywhere near as hard as I am right now. There is something about having this small waif of a girl strewn over my lap, her ass baring my marks beneath her thin legging, that has a beast roaring inside of me. I told her if she disobeyed, I would strip her from the waist down, but when it came time to do it, something inside of me clawed against the idea of anyone but me seeing her skin on display, reddened with my lashes.
I’m a sick fucking bastard, and Gia Nardoni has become my newest obsession.
Carefully, so she doesn’t end up dizzy with the blood rushing to her head, I stand her up and face her toward my men.
“Apologize to them for your disobedience.”
Her jaw clenches but she straightens her shoulders, her chin in the air as she stares them down. “I’m sorry.” Despite the slight hiccup that interrupts her words, her chin remains high and her gaze unwavering. Her spine is straight, her chin lifted, and her eyes hold a steady gaze as she faces them. The room is thick with tension, yet she maintains an air of grace that few women manage to uphold after the sting of humiliation .
Gia will learn to obey, and if she doesn’t, there are many more punishments that will come her way. I have no doubt that she will earn another belting before long because I have made a decision.
Gia Nardoni belongs to me.
At least until I kill her brother.
If not longer.