Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
That isn’t going to happen.
When it comes to flight or fight, I’m going to fly far away from here. Without thinking about the consequences, I bolt for the door, but Vitali is faster. With a dark chuckle, he lunged at me, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward one of the leather chairs sitting in the office.
“Bend your ass over the back of the chair.” He gently shoves me toward where he wants me.
Nope. Absolutely not. No way in hell am I allowing him to punish me again. Last night one was one thing but fuck him if he thinks I am going to let him belt me like some errant child.
A pained gasp leaves my lips when his hand wraps mercilessly in my hair, wrapping around the smooth strands, and forcing my neck as back as it will go. His eyes are narrow slits of anger, and they are fixated on me.
“You have no idea the kind of danger you put yourself in by coming here tonight,” he snarls. “Anything could have happened. Rapists. Muggers. Your father’s men.” His free hand comes up to wrap around the delicate column of my throat. “This could have gone so much better if you had listened to me, Gia.” He tightens his grip, squeezing just enough to get his message across.
“I won’t be made a fool of,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. Fuck, I hate crying, and no matter how hard I try to keep them from falling, a traitorous few escapes.
“I already explained what I was doing here. You simply don’t want to listen,” he chastises me. “If you would have come home with me without the tantrum, we could have talked it over.”
He releases my hair but the hand on my throat moves to the back of my neck. He pushed me forward, bending me over the low-back leather chair.
“Now you get to learn that I am a man of my word, Gia.”
I press my hand into the worn cushion before me, the fabric crinkling under my grip as I long to hide my face in an avalanche of shame. Deep down, I know Vitali’s words have a trace of truth, yet a stubborn part of me refuses to face that truth. I took a risk tonight—my mind clouded by desperation—and all I could see was the image of Vitali wrapped up in some blonde club bimbo while I sat alone in our dim apartment, abandoned.
The harsh reality of the mafia world rings in my ears. Men like him chase fleeting pleasures without a trace of loyalty. He doesn’t love me. Our union is nothing more than a revenge plot. Where does that leave me when he is done taking back his throne? Just because he took my virginity and made a show of being loving this morning doesn’t mean he won’t cheat on me.
“I’m sorry, Vitali,” I whisper hoarsely.
“I accept your apology, little deer,” he replies, his tone deceptively gentle, but it is laced with an undeniable finality. “But that won’t get you out of your punishment. Now, lift your dress.”
When I don’t immediately comply, he tugs sharply on my hair.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he commands, his grip firm enough to erase any thought of defiance.
Tears blur my vision as I reluctantly gather the fabric of my dress, scrunching it around my waist. I flinch with every jangle of the belt buckle—a sound that cuts through the silence like a cold warning. Vitali’s hand glides down my back in an odd moment of tenderness, as if to soothe the storm gathering within me even as I brace for the coming pain.
I take a shaky, uneven breath as silence falls between us. I wonder if he has changed his mind. That maybe he is just making a point, or he knows he is going to regret what he is about to do.
Then, the air shatters with the sound of leather slicing the space as it descends. A searing lash lands across both cheeks and a harsh scream bursts from my throat, raw and desperate. Each subsequent blow sends torrents of burning pain radiating along my skin, transforming my soft flesh into a canvas of agony. I go limp, crumping against the back of the chair, sobs wracking my body as I plead desperately for him to stop.
“Shit! Please, Vitali, stop!” I rasp between my gasps, each word laced with pain. “It hurts.” My cries for mercy spill out. A broken litany of apologies and admissions of fault that blend with the harsh, stinging swats landing on the tender skin where my thighs meet the curve of my ass.
In a frantic bid for relief, I lift my hand instinctively to delay the next strike .
“Move your hand,” he orders, his voice low and uncompromising, echoing through the charged atmosphere.
A small, choked whimper escapes me as I shake my head. “Please, Vitali. Just stop. It hurts.” My voice is little more than a tremulous plea amid the unrelenting symphony of pain.
“It’s a punishment, Gia. It’s supposed to hurt,” he replies, every syllable clipped and devoid of sympathy. “Now move your hand.”
“Please—” I beg, but my words are cut short as he clamps my wrist and presses it mercilessly against the small of my back, obliterating any chance of resistance.
“Vitali!” I scream, my cry breaking through the haze of agony, yet it vanishes into the cycle of relentless strikes. Each lash blurs into the next, stitching together a continuous stream of white-hot pain that floods my senses until an oppressive warmth, born of torment, sweeps over me.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it stops.
He lets go of my wrist, stepping back with a sigh. Not ready to face him just yet, I pause, taking a deep breath to steady myself and wiping the back of my hand across my tear-streaked cheeks. The metallic jingle of his belt being threaded back through the loops of his pants fills the silence, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple through me, a reflexive anticipation of another blow.
Gently, he tugs my dress back down, the fabric brushing against my skin, soothing the sting of my burning backside.
“Stand up,” he instructs, his voice firm yet unexpectedly gentle. I push myself upright, swiftly turning away from him, fingers fumbling to smooth out the wrinkles in my dress and tame my disheveled hair.
He cups my chin with surprising tenderness, guiding my face until our eyes meet. His mouth is a stern line, but his eyes have softened, a contradiction that leaves me wondering who the hell I married.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I sniffle, my voice trembling with disbelief and residual hurt.
“Believe it, sweetheart,” he replies, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Do something like this again and you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
“I’m not a child, Vitali,” I whisper, my voice laced with a quiet defiance. “You can’t just spank me because I don’t follow your rules.”
Vitali shakes his head, a wry smile curving his lips, catching me off guard. “Remember what I said on the plane, Gia. Good girls get rewarded. Bad girls get punished.”
“I didn’t like this punishment,” I mutter, my voice petulant as I scuff the floor with the toe of my shoe.
Vitali shrugs, one shoulder lifting casually. “Last night wasn’t a true punishment. I don’t mind sass, but I won’t tolerate disobedience. You put yourself in danger by leaving the hotel.”
“I wouldn’t have left if you hadn’t been such an ass,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.
Vitali takes a deep breath, the rise and fall of his chest visible, and nods, his agreement surprising me.
“You’re right,” he concedes, pulling me into his chest and wrapping his arms around me in a warm embrace. Despite my anger and the fiery sting still lingering on my skin, I find comfort in the safety of his hold, a confusing mix of emotions swirling within me. “I’ve never been in a relationship, Gia. Never had a woman for more than one night.”
I really did not need to know that.
“This is all new to me, and I am bound to fuck it up,” he continues. “But I didn’t intentionally mean to hurt you. Liam and I have been here all day going over Salvatore’s security footage. That is all. I swear it to you.”
Knowing that if I open my mouth to say anything I’ll just sob, I nod my head against his chest where I’ve buried my face. We stay that way for a few more minutes, relishing the silence around us. When Dario knocks on the door, telling him the driver is ready, he surprises me again by picking me up in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and rest my head in the crook of his neck as he carries me out into the back hallway.
I’m tired and can barely keep my eyes open.
By the time we get to the SUV, I’m already halfway asleep.