Chapter 21
Sophia's POV
Even seated in his wheelchair, Vito radiated raw power that made my skin prickle with awareness. His long legs were spread beneath the expensive fabric of his charcoal suit, the material stretched taut over what I could see were solid, muscular thighs. Despite his supposed disability, there was nothing weak about the man before me.
I perched on his lap, my body moving restlessly as I tried to process the impossible situation I'd found myself in. The heat of him burned through his clothes, and I could smell that intoxicating scent of cedar and bergamot that seemed to cling to his skin.
I've never done anything like this before.
The thought hammered through my mind as I pressed closer, desperate to accomplish whatever it was he wanted from me. David's life hung in the balance. Alfonso's future depended on the next few minutes.
When I realized he wasn't reacting to my tentative movements—no quickening of breath, no physical response beneath me—panic began to claw at my chest. The seconds were ticking away, and I was failing spectacularly at this twisted test.
What if he really can't? What if the accident...
Desperation made me bold. I slid down to kneel between his legs, my hands reaching for his belt with trembling fingers. Maybe if I could just touch him directly, maybe if I could—
His hand shot out, catching my wrist before I could reach my target. The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm—his skin was burning hot against mine, the grip strong enough to bruise.
"Touch yourself."
"What?" I stared up at him from my position on the floor, certain I'd misunderstood.
Touch myself? What does that even mean?
His face was a masterpiece of cold beauty—sharp cheekbones, perfectly sculpted lips, skin like pale marble. Even with those dark sunglasses hiding his eyes, I could feel the weight of his gaze dissecting me, cataloguing every tremor, every flush of humiliation that painted my skin.
"I said," he repeated with deliberate slowness, "touch yourself."
Understanding crashed over me like ice water, and I felt my face flame scarlet. He wasn't talking about innocent contact. He was demanding that I... that I pleasure myself. Here. In front of him. Like some kind of live pornography for his entertainment.
Oh God. Oh God, no.
The realization brought a twisted kind of relief mixed with fresh mortification. At least this meant I didn't have to figure out how to arouse a man who might not even be capable of physical response. But what he was suggesting instead was infinitely worse.
"But this office—it's completely transparent," I whispered, gesturing frantically toward the floor-to-ceiling glass walls that surrounded us.
Anyone walking by could see in. Anyone could witness my complete degradation.
Without a word, Vito reached into his desk and withdrew a sleek remote. One press of a button and motorized blinds began descending from hidden recesses, sealing us away from prying eyes. The transformation was swift and complete—in seconds, we were enclosed in intimate privacy.
The sudden isolation made my heart hammer against my ribs. Now it was just the two of us, alone with his impossible demand and my desperate need to save the man I loved.
"Take off your clothes," he commanded, his voice carrying the same casual authority he might use to order dinner. "Sit on the desk in front of me."
"I... I can't," I whispered, my voice fracturing.
"You can. You will." His tone was absolute, unyielding. "Unless you'd prefer to leave David to rot wherever my men have stashed him."
David's name was like a knife twisting in my chest.
I have to do this. For him.
My hands shook violently as I reached for the buttons of my white blouse. Each one seemed to take an eternity to unfasten, my fingers clumsy with shame and terror. The silk whispered against my skin as I slipped it off my shoulders, leaving me in just my plain white bra and pencil skirt.
"Continue."
The single word cracked like a whip. I fumbled with the zipper of my skirt, the sound abnormally loud in the silent office. The fabric pooled around my ankles, leaving me standing before one of the most dangerous men in New York in nothing but my practical cotton underwear.
This is insane. This is absolutely insane.
But the cool air against my exposed skin was brutally real, as was the weight of his hidden gaze cataloguing every inch of newly revealed flesh.
"The rest," he said quietly. "All of it."
My breath hitched. With shaking hands, I reached behind my back to unclasp my bra. The straps slid down my arms, and I let it fall to the floor. My breasts felt heavy and exposed in the cool air, my nipples hardening from cold and humiliation.
My panties were next—plain white cotton that slid down my thighs to join the growing pile of clothes at my feet. I stood there completely naked, more vulnerable than I'd ever been in my life.
"The desk," he reminded me, his voice patient but implacable.
The wood felt shockingly cold against my bare skin as I hoisted myself up to sit on the edge.
The distance between us felt both too far and not nearly far enough. He remained perfectly composed in his wheelchair while I sat naked and trembling, my legs pressed tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.
"Spread your legs," he ordered softly.
The command sent molten shame flooding through my veins. I hesitated for a heartbeat, then slowly let my thighs part, exposing myself completely to his view.
"Wider."
I bit back a whimper and obeyed, spreading myself obscenely before him. The position left nothing hidden, nothing private. I was completely at his mercy.
"Now," Vito said, his voice dropping to a dark whisper, "show me how you touch yourself when you're alone at night. When you're thinking about the things that make you wet."
The crude words made me flinch. I'd never been spoken to like this before, never been treated like some kind of sexual object for a man's entertainment.
"I don't..." I started, then stopped, not knowing how to finish.
"You don't what? "
"I've never... not like this. Not for someone to watch."
"Then consider this your education. The first lesson in becoming my wife."
"Start with your breasts," he instructed, his voice clinical. "Cup them. "