13

13
Six

I would have been impressed if I weren’t terrified for her life.

She walked in wearing nothing but a long silk nightdress with a thin robe draped carelessly over her shoulders, her damp hair twisted up in a towel like she’d just stepped from the shower.

Marco had explicitly ordered her to dress up, and she had done the exact opposite, deliberately, defiantly.

She had kept him waiting, all these dangerous men waiting, and then sauntered in wearing what amounted to lingerie.

The men around the table exchanged knowing smirks. Marco’s face darkened with a rage I could feel radiating across the room.

“Arabella!” he roared, shooting to his feet, his chair scraping violently against the floor.

“Yes, Marco.”

Her voice was cool water over hot stones, steady, unruffled, as if completely blind to the murderous fury in his eyes or the pack of predators around her, salivating, just waiting for his signal to tear her apart.

“Do you have a death wish, Arabella?” His voice dropped to something more dangerous than his shout had been.

“I don’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have—”

The crack of his hand against her face echoed through the room. The force of his backhand made her head snap sideways.

I flinched involuntarily. Francesco caught it, his eyes narrowing as he studied me with new interest. I forced my hands into fists under the table and compelled myself to stay seated, to appear unmoved.

Christ, didn’t Arabella understand who she was taunting? Had no one warned her what these men were capable of? Did she not know they’d killed for far less than this deliberate disrespect?

Marco’s fingers dug into her jaw, wrenching her face upward until she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

My stomach turned at the sight of the fresh cut blooming on her lower lip, a thin trail of crimson trickling from the corner of her mouth.

“It was a rhetorical question,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You weren’t supposed to answer. Did Maria not convey my message to you?” The last words exploded from him like bullets.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

He released a dry, humorless laugh that raised the hair on my arms. “And you chose to disobey?” His grip on her jaw visibly tightened until his knuckles whitened.

She yelped then, a small, pained sound that stabbed through my chest as she twisted in his grasp. But his hold was unbreakable.

My nails bit into my palms beneath the table. Every muscle in my body screamed to move, to act, but I forced my expression to remain neutral, bored even. I pretended I wasn’t affected.

Pretended I didn’t want to leap across the table and break every bone in his face. That would be suicide, reckless stupidity that would get us both killed in seconds. I exhaled slowly, fighting to steady my breathing.

I couldn’t understand why I cared this much. She was supposed to be just another girl from the club. Yes, the sex had been mind-blowing. Yes, she was stunning. But that should have been it, one night, forgotten by morning.

I should have walked away clean, like she never existed. Yet here she was, the worst kind of complication. And now, for some fucked-up reason I couldn’t explain, I cared.

I never cared about anyone, that was how I’d survived in this business.

Yet here I was, seriously contemplating starting a bloodbath just to snatch this dark-haired beauty from the lion’s den.

“Maybe it was cute when you acted feisty when we were alone,” Marco mused, his voice suddenly playful as he addressed his men. “I could brush it off as sexual, couldn’t I?”

They whooped and jeered like animals, the bloodlust rising in the room.

“I thought maybe Bella here needs to be bound up in bed and fucked senseless until her pussy is sore, eh?”

The men erupted in laughter, the sound scraping against my eardrums like broken glass.

My throat constricted. I ground my teeth so hard I thought they might crack, my grip on my glass nearly shattering it. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I control this rage?

“But to disrespect me in front of my men...” The artificial smile on Marco’s face evaporated, leaving behind something cold and murderous. “That’s another matter entirely, and that means you have a death wish.” He shoved her backward with sudden violence.

She stumbled, losing her balance before crashing to the floor.

Marco turned away dismissively, walking back to his throne-like chair at the head of the table. “Strip,” he commanded.

Fucking hell. Every fiber of my being was screaming. Francesco kept throwing sideways glances at me, his suspicion growing. I couldn’t afford to give him, or anyone, the slightest hint of my turmoil.

So I sat there, a statue of indifference, sipping my drink with ease, maintaining an expression of boredom while my insides burned with an unfamiliar protective fury.

For the first time since she’d entered, real fear flashed in Arabella’s eyes. “Marco...” she called out, her voice breaking, panic finally cracking her facade.

“I won’t repeat myself.”

She glanced around at the men behind her. They were grinning, eyes hungry, already undressing her in their minds.

I downed the rest of my drink in one desperate gulp. The alcohol scorched my throat, but it was nothing compared to the acid churning in my gut at the thought of these men seeing Arabella exposed; her full breasts, her pale pink nipples that had responded so perfectly to my touch just days ago...

The muscles in my jaw ticked.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Marco, I’m your bride…” her voice broke.

“If you don’t take off your clothes, I’ll rip them off you!” he swore.

She knew from the look in his eyes that he was not bluffing. My heart clenched.

I felt helpless; a feeling I hadn’t experienced in so long, and it was because I had let myself be vulnerable.

She looked behind her at the men; most of them wore eager smiles. Francesco had a wide grin that I wanted to knock off so badly. “In front of everyone?” she whispered softly.

“You disrespected me, and you disrespected my men, Arabella. Take off your damn clothes. Let my men see. You’re not all that, Bella. You’re just another woman with a pussy. You’re not special, and I need you to know that…” His smile was maniacal. “You’re just a hot body…”

She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Marco. I’d never disobey you again. I’ll strip if you want me to, but for your eyes only, Marco…”

“I want my men to see what you look like naked, Bella. I want them to see the prize I have won. The prize that was offered to me on a platter,” he snickered.

The rage I felt was maddening. I was furious at everyone, at Arabella’s father for brokering the deal, at the don for making such a suggestion, at Francesco for bringing her up, at her for not showing up early and wearing the dress Marco had asked her to wear.

I was mad at everyone just to avoid being mad at myself. The state of helplessness was killing me.

“Marc—”

“Come on, Arabella, if you’re feeling shy, one of the men could do it…”

She clutched her robe tightly and fell to her knees, reaching for his foot, but he kicked her away. “Francesco, would you like to do the honors?”

He was already on his feet before Marco finished his sentence. Great! Yet another reason to despise the motherfucker.

As he approached her, she scurried closer to Marco and slipped off her robe. “I’ll do it myself, please…” she sobbed.

“Stop, Francesco!”

The disappointment was evident on his face. She let the robe fall to the floor beside her.

Facing Marco, who sat at the head of the table, she ensured the men could only see her back and side profile, except, of course, for Marco.

Slowly, she pushed down the sleeves of her pink nightdress.

I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured myself a full glass. Francesco turned to meet my gaze again.

She slid the other sleeve down, and just before she pushed her dress further, she turned to look at me.

It was the first look we’d shared since she walked into the room. I couldn’t tell if she was pleading with me; her eyes were sad.

The moment was brief but didn’t go unnoticed. Marco looked up at me, and though it was hard to tell what was running through his mind, I knew he saw something.

Whatever it was, it made him turn his attention back to her the moment she pulled the dress down.

I swallowed hard; my throat was dry. My jaw ached from how tense it was. My fists clenched. My eyes were glued to the creamy skin of her bare back.

All the men were staring at her. She was like prey in the wild, waiting for these vicious men to pounce.

Images of her bouncy breasts flashed in my head; how they had felt in my mouth and in my hands. I wanted to kiss them again until they were red and sore.

I wanted to tweak those puckered nipples between my fingers until she moaned my name, my real name.

I watched as Marco’s gaze darkened, his eyes clouding with instant lust. He swallowed hard, gawking at her body for a long moment.

Arabella remained kneeling before him, her head bowed.

Then Marco looked up at the men; their eager eyes, and then his gaze shifted to me. I could see the struggle in his expression.

I didn’t know exactly what he saw when he looked into my eyes, but I knew I was the reason.

“Cover up, Bella,” Marco’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes still boring into mine.