Chapter Five LEO #3
“Oh, like the one where you supposedly took my virginity?” she hissed.
“Exactly,” I smirked. “It may not have happened yet, but it will. We both know it, don’t we?”
She remained defiantly silent. I walked over to the vanity table and patted the chair in front of it. “Come here and sit down for me.”
She hesitated, but ended up doing it anyway. I didn’t fool myself into thinking it was because she craved me yet. No, she was simply too afraid. And as I looked down at my hands and realized I was still wearing the now blood-stained white cotton gloves, I quickly realized why.
I peeled the gloves off, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Why is your hair not down?”
She didn’t answer, and my lips pressed together with dissatisfaction. I reached for her hair, and quickly undid all the braids she’d forced her glorious, silky blonde hair into. She stared at the floor, too afraid to fight me.
I didn’t have to tell her what had happened in the meeting, but I knew I would. I needed to say it to someone. Needed to hear it out loud.
I picked up a hairbrush and started going through her pretty locks, forcing myself to be gentle. If it were up to me, her hair would be fisted in my hands, and she’d be moaning my name right now. But I still didn’t want to force myself on her. I wanted her to come to me willingly.
“My father left me a problem,” I said, brushing her hair until it shone like liquid gold. “A big fucking problem.”
Chiara let out a short, humorless laugh. “Let me guess. You’re not getting enough money?”
I smiled. “You think this is about money?”
“What else would it be about?” she hissed.
I leaned in slightly. “Control, of course. Isn’t it always?”
That landed. I saw it in the way her posture shifted, just a fraction.
“Everything I should have inherited,” I continued, voice steady, “is locked behind a condition.”
She crossed her arms, eyes finally meeting mine in the mirror.
“And?” she said.
“And I have a year to meet it.” I put down the brush and ran my fingers through her glorious hair. “And you’re going to help me.”
She got up and huffed, a look of disapproval on her face. But she didn’t look away. “What is the condition?”
There it was. Curiosity.
I watched her for a second longer than necessary, just because it turned me on to make her deeply uncomfortable. I did my best to ignore my hardening cock as I delivered the blow that would change us forever.
“To inherit my father’s legacy, I must marry,” I replied.
It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. Chiara’s expression didn’t change at first. Then finally, her eyes filled with fear. Slowly. Like the meaning was catching up.
“I don’t see what that has to do with me,” she said quietly.
“Everything,” I smiled. “You’re going to be my wife. Remember?”
Her head shook, once, like she could physically reject it. “I don’t care. Whatever twisted family issue you have, it has nothing to do with me.”
I stepped closer, and she stepped back this time. Hit the edge of the table behind her. Cornered. Again.
“It has everything to do with you,” I said. “Because I took a risk to make you mine. You fucking owe me for getting you out of that house with your abusive father.”
Her breathing changed. Faster now. “I never told you Papa was abusive.”
I smirked. “You didn’t have to. Those bruises you try so hard to hide are proof enough.”
Chiara blanched, then tugged at the sleeves of her dress. As if that was going to fix anything.
“It would be more enjoyable for both of us if you stopped resisting,” I suggested. “I can make you feel pleasure you have never even imagined.”
She scoffed. “I sincerely doubt that.”
“Do you?” I smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She stared at me, contempt in her eyes. “Didn’t you enjoy having my mouth on you that first night? I still remember how desperate you were. Fingers in my hair, pushing me closer.”
She glared. “A moment of weakness doesn’t define me.”
“No,” I agreed. “But the moment you break will.”
“I’m never giving you what you want,” she hissed.
“It’s not up to you,” I reminded her. “It’s happening one way or another. What did you think would happen? Even if you run away, I’ll have you brought back. Then, I’ll punish you.”
“You can’t force me to marry you,” she said, stronger this time.
“Oh, I won’t be forcing you,” I said. “You’ll come willingly.”
Her eyes flashed with rage. “I’m not a body for you to abuse. You don’t get to use me for some sick breeding fantasy.”
Use. The word echoed. Something darker flickered in my chest. Not denial. Not guilt. Just a deepening desire to put Chiara Ventura on her knees.
“I don’t get to?” I repeated softly. She held my gaze, even as her hands clenched at her sides.
“You don’t. I’m not…” Her voice caught, then hardened. “I’m not some pet you can just order around without consequences. I’m not something you can own.”
“I own this building,” I cut in. “This city bends when I tell it to. And you think you’re the exception?”
“I know I am,” she shot back. “Don’t you think I see the way you look at me?”
I smiled. “I’m glad you noticed you make my cock throb, bellissima.”
She flushed, a soft red color spreading all over her ivory skin. God, I liked that. She was still fighting. I wanted her to submit, but it would be that much sweeter the longer it took to break her.
It almost made me regret what came next.
Almost.
“I’m giving this a year,” I said, quieter now. “That’s how long I have before everything changes.”
“And then?” she hissed. “What will you make me do next?”
“Then… Nothing. You’ll be useless to me,” I shrugged, looking down at her. “We can get a divorce… after.”
For the first time, I saw hurt register in Chiara’s expression. I didn’t show my pleasure over it, but I felt it. She was in pain because I’d just made her feel worthless. But if she truly hated me as much as she said she did… wouldn’t she just feel relief?
“How can I trust you?” she asked softly. “You’ve given me nothing so far. Why should I believe you?”
“Because you don’t have a choice,” I reminded her.
“Why me?” she demanded. “You could have any woman. Someone willing to carry your child. Anyone but me.”
The words hit. They were ugly, but honest.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I reached out. Caught her wrist firmly in my grip, but not hard enough to bruise her. She sucked in a breath, trying to pull back, but my grip tightened just enough to stop her.
Still not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind Chiara of her place.
“You’re special,” I said. “You… made me feel something. I simply couldn’t let you go after that.”
Her eyes went wide, but not with fear. Not exactly. Something closer to fury breaking open.
“I never had a choice,” she whispered. “My father took it away, and then you did. I thought my husband would be better than Papa.”
I laughed. “You thought you’d get married for love in a world like ours?”
“Don’t laugh at me,” she said. “You keep implying I’ll change my mind about you. Like it’s supposed to make it true.”
“It already is coming true.”
“No,” she snapped, yanking against my grip. “It’s not. I still get to decide what happens to my body. You don’t get to take that from me too.”
That was new. Not just defiance. A line. Drawn clearly.
I drank her up with my gaze. The shaking hands she was trying to hide so desperately, yet so unsuccessfully. At the anger holding her together. At the fact that even now, when she was clearly terrified, she was still pushing back.
My grip on her wrist loosened, but she didn’t pull away.
“You think this is about taking?” I said.
“What else would it be about?” she shot back.
I stepped closer. Close enough that her back pressed fully into the table. No space left now.
“Not taking,” I said quietly. “This is about inevitability.”
Her breath hitched.
“I don’t care how long it takes,” I continued. “A week. A month. The full year.”
My thumb brushed once against the inside of her wrist. Her pulse jumped under it.
“You will marry me,” I said. “When you do, after a year, you will be free to leave.”
She shook her head. “No.”
I leaned in just enough for my voice to drop. “I suggest you start thinking about how much you’re willing to lose before you agree. There are plenty of things left to take away from you.”
That hit. Hard. Her expression cracked. Just for a second.
“Your little sister, for example,” I added, almost thoughtfully. “Sienna, was that her name?”
Chiara’s entire body went rigid. “Don’t you dare.”
I watched her carefully. “Your siblings are your weak spot. We both know it.”
“You will never hurt them,” she snapped, real fear bleeding through now. “You don’t get to use them, or even say their names.”
“I don’t?” I tilted my head. “Because from where I’m standing, they’re the only thing you care about more than your pride. Which makes them… useful. A weapon, if used correctly.”
The silence between us was heavy, but she still didn’t pull back.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered. “I didn’t believe the stories, even while I was telling them. But you are every bit as bad as your reputation.”
I straightened slowly, releasing her wrist completely. “Maybe.”
I stepped back. Gave her space. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to think about the repercussions of her actions.
“But you’d better get used to the idea,” I added, adjusting my cuffs like this was just another conversation. “You have a year to change your mind.”
Her eyes snapped to mine. “I will never change my mind.”
I paused at the door. Looked back once. “Trust me. Once we’re there, you won’t even want to leave. It will be your biggest fear to lose me. And I can’t wait to show you how much you need me.”