Page 19 of Darkest Sin

My gaze sweeps to my cousin, and I don’t need to say a word for him to feel the wrath of my displeasure. She is certainly no whore, and while I may enjoy calling her as such when I finally get to sink into her sweet cunt, no other man shall be rewarded the same honor.

Sergiu visibly swallows and inches back, pressing his lips into a hard line. “Chiara is not some cheap prostitute offering herself up on the street,” I inform him. “And if you call her that again, I will see to it that you are made to understand the nature of that term. Perhaps Monica shall be offered up to every man of the family and you can gain a true understanding of what it means.”

Sergiu shakes his head, anger flashing in his eyes. “That’s not what I—”

“She was an innocent woman going about her day when she was stolen and caged,” I continue. “She’s spent the last few days terrified of what was to become of her, and now she’s been thrust into a world where she has to adapt quickly. That doesn’t make her a whore. It makes her a survivor, and if you are ever allowed the pleasure of meeting her, you will treat her as such. Do I make myself clear?”

Sergiu clenches his jaw, but knowing exactly who holds the power here, he quickly relents and nods. “Of course, cousin. It was an innocent slip of the tongue. I didn’t realize she meant so much to you.”

I narrow my gaze on my cousin, not trusting him for one moment, but he knows if he crosses a line with me, I won’t hesitate to take him out. “She does not mean anything to me,” I counter. “However, that does not mean that she is not entitled to some respect. She is a guest in my home, and she shall be treated with the same respect in which I offer your wife in her home.”

Sergiu watches me far too closely. “Are you sure, cousin? She seems to have you in a bind. You’ve had many guests in the past, none of whom you’ve cared to defend before.”

I simply shrug my shoulders and right myself in my seat, focusing my attention out the front windshield of the SUV, calling an end to the conversation because honestly, I don’t like what he’s implying. The blonde bombshell that’s currently residing in my guest suite really has been taking up a lot of my attention today. Every moment I’ve wondered about her, wanting to know what she is doing, what she’s feeling about being here in my world, and if she fears me the way she should.

Just as Sergiu said, I’ve never cared for those who’ve ventured into my home before, so why now? I’m all too aware that I require an heir, and the fact that I’m even considering her to be the woman who bears my children tells me more than enough—I care.

But why?

I have no fucking idea.

I’ve become infatuated with a woman I know nothing about.

Any child would be lucky to inherit her beauty and backbone. She’s stronger than I think I’ve even realized, and for some reason, I fully believe that she will surprise me. In fact, I really hope she does, and it’s that thought alone that has me excited to get home, more than ready to see her again.

9

CHIARA

My hands shake as I approach the master bedroom, my fingers curling around the handle. I hesitate, swallowing hard and trying to ease the anxiety pulsing through my veins. I shouldn’t entertain this. I should be locking myself in my bedroom and figuring out how the hell to get out of here.

But I’m intrigued.

He wants to fuck, and goddamn, in the space of a day and a half, I’ve become a needy whore for this man. He’s barely touched me, barely even spoken to me, yet the overwhelming need to please him has me in a violent chokehold. Is this some kind of intense Stockholm Syndrome, or am I just as fucked up as he is?

Either way, I have to see this through. I have to know exactly what he’s going to do to me. How he’s going to touch me, how he’s going to use my body, and goddamn, I have to feel him slamming deep inside of me. I can take it. If anything, my Romanian jailer has finally met his match.

Ever since I spread my legs for him on his fucked-up little stage last night and felt the weight of his stare on my pussy, I’ve been craving his touch. The second the thought of him fucking me entered my brain, it was over for me. All sense of survival burned to ashes at my feet. If only he knew what kind of devil he’d unleashed.

Despite this roaring need burning inside of me, I’m still incredibly aware of his rules. Instead of pushing my way through the door and demanding he hurries up and fucks me, I find myself hesitating. Do I knock? Or does he expect me to welcome myself in and settle on the ground with my knees spread, hoping to play out a bit of kinky Christian Grey fuckery? Because if that’s the case, he should know I can’t braid my own hair, and I’ll have more than enough trouble allowing myself to be dominated in that way. When it comes to getting down and dirty, I’m the furthest thing from submissive.

Letting out a shaky breath, I rap my knuckles against the door before hearing that smooth accent call out. “Come in.”

Gently pressing the handle, I ease the door open and ready myself for a whole world full of new possibilities.

His room is dimly lit, and there’s just enough light for me to make him out across the room. He’s shirtless, and my mouth waters at the sight of his strong torso. Those perfectly wide shoulders and defined pecs lead down to chiseled abs and a deep V that points right to the promised land. His dark pants are riding low on his hips, and I greedily take him in, more than ready to discover what he has in store for me.

My hands shake, and while I feel ready, the fear of the unknown still grips me.

Hunger flashes in his eyes, dark and disturbed, and pride tears at my chest, knowing he likes what he sees. And damn it, I do too. I went all out for him tonight. Black lace lingerie, suspenders, and thigh-high stockings. I don’t know what he likes when it comes to stuff like this, so I kept it simple. Safe. I dressed up in natural makeup, just enough to accentuate my features, and I left my long hair down so that he can wrap his hand around it if the desire strikes.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, slowly moving across his room. I track each of his steps like a vulture, but in reality, he’s the predator tonight. His eyes are like beacons, capturing me, drawing me in, and demanding obedience. “Go to my bed.”

Swallowing hard, I divert my gaze toward the big bed. A huge king-size mattress sits atop four steps at the head of the room, like the main attraction. I hastily make my way toward it before stopping at the bottom step, waiting for his next instructions.

He moves toward me until he stands only a foot away, his gaze sailing over me, taking in the subtle curves of my body. “Strip for me, Sweet Angel.”

Oh, dear God.

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