19. Margot
Chapter 19
Margot
M assimo strides into the kitchen when I’m halfway through my breakfast. I didn’t see him again yesterday after he told me what had happened to Aurora and the attacks on him and his men. He should have told me sooner, preferably before we got married, instead of blindly bringing me into his life.
In some ways, I’m grateful that I didn’t see him again because I was so mad and I definitely would have pushed him further. I probably would have made demands I didn’t mean, like wanting to know who they suspected and then we’d have fought more at his unwillingness to tell me.
I feel his presence as he heads for the table, but I don’t acknowledge him. He sets down a plate of eggs and a cup of espresso before sliding into his chair. The tension around us is almost suffocating, but I refuse to break the silence.
Only the sound of cutlery scraping across china fills the room and when Massimo finishes his plate, he uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. He stands, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. My gaze is fixed on his corded, thick forearms, watching his every move. A needy ache forms in my gut, and I bite back the whimper that nearly slips from my lips when he picks up my plate and clears the table.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished,” I protest, turning in my chair.
He places the plates on the countertop, quietly saying something to Alma. She darts a concerned glance over at me before lifting her gaze back to Massimo and dipping her chin. My mind races and I try to understand the scene unfolding in front of me as she scurries from the room.
I turn my attention back to Massimo and find him cracking his neck, eyes fixed on the ceiling before he shifts his focus to me. Panic flares in my chest as I notice the intent in his gaze. I stand, moving around the table as he stalks toward me.
“You can’t escape this, Margot.” There’s a thread of something in his tone that weaves a web of trepidation up my spine.
This is it .
How ridiculous that I’m going to die because I couldn’t control my annoyance. Again . Dread unfurls inside of me, sinking deep into my bones and colliding with the panic at what is to come. I should have known I wouldn’t get away with what happened at the club so easily.
I hold up my hand as he moves closer, before inching away and trying to keep a distance between us. “You don’t have to do this,” I plead, my breath shaking with every inhale.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He pauses, his steps slow and deliberate. “You’ve left me with no choice.” Another beat of silence as fear and excitement pulse through my body. “I warned you and you chose to ignore me.” His tone is low and laced with an edge of warning. “Clearly, I need to follow through with actions to ensure you don’t make the same mistake again.”
I stumble over a chair, knocking it into the table, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. Massimo uses my momentary distraction as I attempt to steady myself to his advantage, banding his arms around me and pulling my body flush against his. The air is knocked from my lungs at the sudden movement before I sink into the heat of his body, with my back pressed to his front.
Instinctively, I relax into him before I catch myself and stiffen. I refuse to make this easy for him. My fingers scratch at his arm, trying to pry myself out of his hold as I wriggle against him.
Unfazed, he dusts his nose up the exposed column of my throat and I curse myself for having tied my hair up. I swallow thickly and close my eyes, trying and failing to fight against my arousal. It’s hard, especially when it’s so consuming. His teeth graze my earlobe, the brief jolt of pain sending a bolt of lust to my core.
“Hands on the table,” he grates.
I lean away from him, my question hanging between us. When he doesn’t speak, I do as he demands, slowly resting my hands on the wooden surface and bending at the waist, even as my mind screams at me to run.
Massimo steps behind me, one hand on the center of my back and the other on my hip. I feel his power without him needing to speak and the anticipation of what’s to come sends a rush of wetness between my legs. He steps closer until I can feel his hard cock, pressing against my ass.
He’s a monster .
I wonder if he can feel the heat of my pussy through the fabric of my dress. Is he turned on by the thought of whatever he’s about to do?
I want to lash out and call him sick for getting turned on by hurting me, but that would make me a hypocrite and I can’t trust my voice not to give me away. Yet I’m so turned on by him that I fear I’m addicted, that only he will be able to make me feel this way. And what does that say about me?
“You’ve defied me four times, Margot.” Smoothing a hand over my ass, Massimo lifts my dress, exposing me to him. “That’s four punishments,” he murmurs distractedly.
I wait for him to move, anticipation replacing the uncertainty.
“If you thought I wouldn’t punish you for your little outburst yesterday or all the things you have done since you became mine, then you don’t know me at all. Actions have consequences, Margot. These are yours.”
I’m too caught up in my shock to fully process what he’s saying. He draws his hand back and I tense, bracing myself on the table.
The first thwack of his hand on my ass cheek sends me jolting forward and crying out at the unexpected pain that shoots through me and leaves my skin tingling. “One,” he counts, his voice controlled and smooth.
I try to move, to turn away from him and protect myself before the next assault comes but he holds me still, his power no match for me. His hand lands in the same place, the intensity still there, but the pain that follows quickly morphs into pleasure.
“Two.”
My fingers claw at the wood beneath me and a low growl vibrates in my chest. I hate him . The next two slaps come in quick succession, but both equally as painful as the last, as he counts each one of them like he’s committing them to memory. Shame prickles under my skin, mingling with a dangerous heat that is impossible to ignore as moisture pools between my legs. Once again, my body is betraying me in a fight I’ve already lost.
Heat fills my chest, the cool surface beneath me doing nothing to ease it. I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much his ‘punishment’ is actually my pleasure.
Massimo rubs his hand over the spot where he’s hit me. I know it’s got to be hot to the touch because his palm is cool and soothing. When he presses his hip against my other cheek, I feel his hardness again.
His fingers graze my bare flesh as he straightens my skirt. There’s a gentleness to his movements, but it’s almost mocking. Without a second glance, he steps away, returning to his seat and picking up his espresso cup. “What do you have planned for today?”
I straighten, my eyes widening as I look around the room. What the fuck? The sting of his hand lingers on my skin, but it’s the casual note to his voice that throws me. I’ve got whiplash from how quickly he’s shifted gears. My heart still beats an erratic rhythm in my chest as I stare at him, trying to figure out what has just happened. Is this his idea of normal?
“Nothing. I—” My mind is completely gone, the delicious ache spreading through my body all I can focus on. I shouldn’t be turned on by what he’s done, I should be angry and demanding an apology. But all I can think about is the release my body is craving. What the hell is happening?
Standing, Massimo takes his wallet out of his slacks. He pulls a black card from the folds, chucking it down on the table. “Why don’t you get out of the house and do some shopping? I’ll have someone waiting for you in the entryway in an hour.”
Then, he strides from the kitchen, leaving me to deal with the aftermath of whatever the hell that was.
With my skin still burning from his touch and my mind reeling with a cocktail of anger and desire, I stare at the black card. Its presence is a reminder of the control Massimo continues to have over me.
Will I ever be free?