Chapter 110 The Mafia's debt (6)

Chapter 110 The Mafia's debt (6)
Angelo
I leaned against the cold stone of the cell, watching her collapse. My chest tightened. I’d spent years hardened to this life, but seeing her huddled on that wooden frame, wrapped in a robe that was too big for her, made the anger from her betrayal disappear.
Her father was a terrible man. I had always known it, but she was only just finding out.
I walked over and sat on the edge of the frame. She flinched, pulling away, her face red and wet with tears.
“Don’t,” she choked out.
I didn’t listen. I reached out, my hand steady as I gripped her shoulder and pulled her toward me. She resisted for a second before she slumped against my chest, her forehead resting against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling the frantic beating of her heart against my ribs.
“They’re gone, Luce,” I murmured, my hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. “Forget them. They don’t deserve the air you’re wasting on these tears.”
“He’s my father,” she sobbed into my shirt. “How could he just... leave me?”
“Because he’s a coward who only values what he can sell. And right now, he thinks you’re a liability.” I pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. I wiped a stray tear with my thumb, my touch far gentler than the whip I’d used on her hours before. “But I don’t.”
She looked at me, her eyes searching mine, trying to find the lie. “What happens now? Am I just going to live in this basement?”
I looked around at the grey stone walls. The dungeon felt wrong for her now. The fear was gone, replaced by a dark, possessive need to keep her close, not as a prisoner, but as something far more intimate.
“No,” I said, standing up and pulling her with me. “The basement is for enemies. You’ve proven you’re not a threat, and neither is your family, at least for now.”
I led her back up the stairs, my hand never leaving the small of her back. We bypassed the guest rooms and went straight to my wing. I pushed open the double doors to my bedroom.
“You stay here,” I commanded. “In my room. Under my eye, where I can watch you closely.”
“Angelo—”
“No more talking.” I pointed to the massive bed. “Sleep. I have things to finish at the docks. When I get back, we’re going to discuss the new terms of your stay.”
“New terms?” She gripped the ends of her robe, her eyes wide with fear.
I stepped into her space, my height looming over her. I leaned down until our noses brushed, my gaze dropping to her mouth. She had the most kissable lips I had ever seen, even now when they were dry and cracked. The air in the room felt heavy and more dangerous than before.
“The debt isn’t just about money anymore, Luce,” I whispered, my voice dropping. “You tried to sell me out. Now, the price for Maria’s life and yours has gone up. You’re going to earn your keep in ways your father never imagined.”
I didn’t wait for her to argue. I turned and walked out, locking the door behind me.
As I walked down the hall, I checked my watch. The Sicily shipment was handled, but the real war was just starting. Her father thought he could discard her and walk away. He didn’t realize that by throwing her away, he’d given me the only weapon I needed to destroy him.
And I intended to use every inch of her to do it.

I came back to the room at 2:00 AM; the hallways were dimly lit. I didn’t knock on the door; I never do.
Luce was exactly where I’d left her, but she wasn’t hiding under the covers. She was sitting on the edge of my bed, bathed in the amber glow of the bedside lamp. She’d shed the heavy robe. Now, she wore only the black silk dress, the one I’d sliced open earlier. She’d tried to pin it together at the shoulder, but the fabric hung dangerously low, revealing the pale swell of her breast and her inner thighs.
She looked fragile sitting there, finally realizing that these walls were the only thing keeping her safe from the storm outside.
“You’re still awake,” I said, stripping my coat and tossing it onto a chair.
“I can’t sleep in a room that’s locked from the outside,” she whispered. Her eyes followed the movement of my hands as I unbuttoned my cuffs.
“Get used to the feeling of a locked room, Luce. It’s the only thing standing between you and the men who want to trade your head back to your father.”
I walked toward her. She didn’t flinch this time. She just watched me, her breath caught in her throat as I stepped between her knees. I reached down, my fingers hooking under the silk strap she’d tried to save. With a light tug, I snapped the pin. The dress slid down, pooling at her waist, leaving her completely naked in front of me. My eyes darkened as I looked over her.
“Angelo—”
“Quiet.” I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Your father threw you away. You are payment for the debt now. And I’m here to collect.”
I turned her around, my hands firm on her waist, and forced her to lie chest-down across the foot of the bed. I didn’t say a word to her. I reached into the nightstand and pulled out a pair of fur-lined leather restraints.
“Hands behind your back,” I commanded.
She obeyed, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. I clicked the locks into place. The sound was loud in the silent room. I followed it by looping a secondary cord from her wrists to the heavy mahogany bedpost, pulling it until her body was arched, her breasts pressed into the silk sheets, and her hips tilted up toward me.
I stood over her, taking in the view of the red marks I’d left earlier. They had darkened into a deep, flushed rose color. The contrast against her pale skin was striking.
“You said you’d do anything for Maria,” I reminded her, my voice dropping. I picked up a weighted leather whip from the bedside table.
“I will,” she choked out into the mattress.
“Then show me how much her life is worth.”
I didn’t start with a strike. I dragged the cool, flat side of the leather along the back of her thighs, watching the goosebumps break out across her skin. The atmosphere in the room was heavy. I could almost taste it.
I brought the whip down against her already sore cheeks.
She shuddered and let out a pained cry. I didn’t stop. I kept the rhythm steady, marking the soft skin until it was a vibrant crimson.
“Please,” she whimpered, her body bucking against the restraints.
“Please, what, Luce? Please stop? Or please remind you that I’m the only one who didn’t throw you away tonight?” I whispered.
I dropped the whip and leaned over her, my chest pressing into her back. I buried my face against her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin. My hand slid in between her legs, finding her soft flesh, soaking wet and slick.
I slipped a finger into her and worked my way in and out. It was warm against my hand; I added another finger, relishing the feel of her walls clamping tightly around me. My fingers moved in a way that left her no room to pull away.
She started to wail, her head thrashing against the sheets as she fought the climax. When it finally hit, she screamed into the pillow, her body going limp against the restraints.
I stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily against her skin. I didn’t unbind her.
“Wait here for me,” I whispered into her ear.
I stood up, adjusted my trousers, and walked toward the shower. I didn’t look back, but I could feel her eyes on me—needy, and utterly mine.