Page 59 of Twisted Vows

Stinging pain travels up my arm as she creates fresh gouges on my wrist with her nails. Even with my hands clamped around her throat and jaw, she scoffs and lifts a brow.

“Do you know your brother at all? His goal is never to just win; he always needs to decimate his opponent.”

I can’t negate her statement, but making a mafia princess a communal sex slave seems too outrageous, even for my brother. It makes little sense financially either.

“What would my brother gain from hurting you?”

She wrings her hands, destroying the skin on my wrist, but I grind my aching cock against her softness and dare her to lie to me.

“Who better to make heel than the stubborn, outspoken daughter of Ciro Lanza?” Her sardonic sneer slices my heart into tiny pieces. “No one would doubt his capabilities if he had me cowering at his every move.” Pure hatred shines from her eyes as she no doubt recalls my brother’s cruelty. “With one Lanza daughter kneeling at his feet and the other on his arm as a trophy wife, he’d have all the clout he needed to make menacross the country respect him and flock to him for their sex slaves.”

I cover her mouth with my hand and drop my forehead to the wall beside her temple, needing a moment to rein in my fury. The mere suggestion of her suffering under another man’s hands is too much. Add in the image of her kneeling at my brother’s feet, and I’m a hairsbreadth away from launching into a cross-country killing spree.

The scars on her back flash through my mind’s eye. Bile surges in the back of my throat. My brother gave them to her.

An even worse realization spears through me. The blood splatters on the wall and floor in Seppi’s private dungeon the last saw him were hers. In the brightly lit room, with dozens of men leering at her, she survived hell on earth as my brother humiliated and hurt her.

Even if it means stealing a plane or driving over forty fucking hours to reach my brother, I’ll beat the literal shit out of him before slowly skinning and dissecting him alive for what he did to her. He’ll never touch her again.

She’s my woman. My wife. Mine.

With every ounce of my doubt shredded, my obsession with her multiplies.

My anger shifts inward. Doubting her was stupid, even though logical. The probability of us meeting again, especially in an alley after I murdered Narciso’s goon, is so astronomically tiny it’s laughable, yet here we are. Add in my failure to recognize her and the situation takes on a wry comical edge.

My scoff morphs into a chuckle of self-disgust. I lift my head from the wall and flex my fingers around her throat and her face, enjoying the way her eyes spark at my display of dominance.

“My brother will never touch you again,mia caramellina.”

She squints in obvious disbelief.

“You’re mine, Emma.”

Lust and longing flash in her eyes, but she buries them with her fury. She shakes her head as much as my hold will allow.

“Mia Rivera or Emma Lanza, I don’t give a fuck what your name is. You’re mine,amore mio. Only mine,” I snarl.

She clenches her teeth, shifting her jaw under my grip. Her defiance only makes me want to push her further.

“Fine. Mia Rivera isn’t enough for me. I’m marrying Emma Lanza first thing tomorrow.”

She jerks her nails through my flesh and rips her face out of my grip with a vicious twist of her head.

“No! That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Are you trying to paint a big red x on my head? Sure, if your brother kills me, you don’t have to worry about disposing of me yourself, right? Now that you’ve found Katherine, you don’t have to put up with me any—”

I cut off her tirade by capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss. When I pull back, all the oxygen in the room is gone, but I don’t need it. I need her.

She tries to turn her head away, but I clamp down on her jugular and dive back into her mouth. When she bites my tongue, I growl and squeeze her throat until she relaxes her jaw.

The taste of blood coats the roof of my mouth. I grimace and frame her face with both hands as I shift my entire body over hers, highlighting her helplessness. Her stiff nipples draw jagged lines on my abs as her hands smear blood over my sides and arms. I brush her hair away from her temple and tease her earlobe with my fingertips.

“You’ve got it all wrong,mia caramellina. When I say you’re mine, I mean you’re the only one for me. You’re stuck with me. Like I said before, I’m never letting you go. Ever. Not even my brother can make me walk away.”

When her eyes shift behind me toward the door blocking her sister, her true worry snaps into focus. I shift my hand up herthroat and curl my fingers behind her ears, spending the least amount of effort while exerting the most control over her face and throat.

“What’s yours is mine now,mia caramellina, which includes your sister. I’ll protect her just as fiercely as I protect you.”

Anger flashes in her eyes.

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