Page 85 of Ruthless Royalty

My stomach drops, and a wave of nausea washes over me as his words sink in. “Who sent you?” I ask, my voice trembling.

He doesn’t answer right away, just reaches out to trace a finger down my cheek, his touch sending a shudder of revulsion through me.

“That’s not important,” he says finally, his tone dismissive. “What’s important is that I get what I want before I hand you over.”

“Leo, please,” I beg, my voice breaking as I struggle against the restraints, desperation clawing at me. “Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it. I’ll do whatever you want—just please, don’t do this.”

He hesitates for a moment, and for a fleeting second, Ithink I’ve gotten through to him. But then he shakes his head, a cold smile curling his lips.

“You don’t get it, do you, Chiara? This isn’t about money. This is about taking something that belongs to someone else, and making it mine.”

“No,” I whisper, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “No, please…”

But he ignores me, his gaze drifting to the ropes around my wrists. “I’ve always been the nice guy, haven’t I? The one who listens, who’s patient. But you never wanted that, did you? You wanted someone who would take control, someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

He stands up slowly, his movements deliberate, and walks over to the side of the bed, looking down at me with that same unsettling calm.

“I wondered if maybe that’s why you chose him. If I’d been more like Giovanni, more … assertive, would you have chosen me instead?”

My heart is racing, every instinct screaming at me to get out of here, to get away from him, but I’m trapped, tied down and helpless.

“Leo, please … stop. We can talk, we can figure this out. Just untie me, and we can talk.”

He shakes his head slowly, as if disappointed. “You’re not listening, Chiara. I’m done talking. Talking never got me anywhere with you, did it? You never took me seriously. But maybe now you will.”

He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and pure terror courses through me when I see the knife in his hand. I thrash against the ropes, panic making me stronger, more desperate.

“No! Leo, stop! Please, stop!”

But he doesn’t, his hands moving with a cold precision thatmakes me feel sick. I kick out, trying to shove him away, but my legs are too weak, too slow, and he easily avoids them.

“Stop fighting, Chiara,” he says softly, his voice almost tender as he cuts through my shirt and removes it. “It’ll be easier if you just accept it.”

“No!” I scream, my voice raw with fear and desperation. “Leo, please! Stop!”

But my pleas fall on deaf ears, and I feel the cold air hit my skin as he cuts my bra from my body. I struggle harder, my mind racing with a thousand horrible possibilities, but the ropes hold tight, and I can’t move.

“Leo, don’t,” I sob, my voice breaking. “Please don’t.”

He pauses, his hands stilling for a moment, and for a brief, fleeting second, I think maybe I’ve gotten through to him. But then he looks down at me, and I see something in his eyes that sends a wave of cold terror through me —He’s made up his mind.

“I want Giovanni to know I was here,” he says with a dark smirk.

“No! Please, God, no!” I scream, thrashing wildly, but it’s no use. He’s too strong, and I’m too weak, too groggy from whatever he drugged me with. “Please! Let me go and I won’t tell Giovanni what happened.”

He leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear as he murmurs, “You really think Giovanni’s going to save you? That he’ll swoop in and play the hero? He can’t protect you, Chiara. Not from me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out his words, trying to keep the terror at bay. But it’s no use. The reality of the situation crashes down on me, and I’m suddenly drowning in it, gasping for air, for some way out of this nightmare.

But then, something in me snaps—some last shred of defiance, of strength that refuses to let him see mebreak.

I open my eyes, staring up at him with as much steel as I can muster. “Giovanni will come for me,” I say, my voice steady despite the fear thrumming through me. “And when he does, you’re going to wish you never touched me.”

Leo’s smile falters for just a second, and I see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that cold, cruel gleam that makes my skin crawl.

“Maybe he will,” Leo says, his tone almost bored as he pulls down my jeans and panties. “But by the time he gets here, it’ll be too late. For both of you.”

He stands up, moving away from the bed, and I feel a moment of relief as he puts some distance between us. But it’s short-lived, replaced by a sickening dread as he starts rummaging through a bag on the table, pulling out a syringe.

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