Page 9 of Brutal Vows

Dario takes her wrists in his hands and pulls them in front of her, quickly securing the cuffs before he takes a step back and heads to take his seat again. Anger burns inside me at seeing his hands on her, but I tamper it down. He only followed my instructions; it was her disobedience that forced him into that position.

I reach between our bodies and with quick fingers unlatch my belt and pull it from the loops. A scream tears through her lips when she sees me folding the leather in half.

“No!”

Not heeding her cry, I let the leather fly, striking it across her backside in steady strokes. Ten strokes later, she is a sobbing mess, tears falling from her eyes as I deliver lash after lash. The strokes are hard enough to redden her ass, but not hard enough to bruise or permanently damage. That isn’t what this is about. I’m not doing this to torture her like I would other prisoners who disobeyed me, but to teach her who is in charge.

And that is me.

Disobedience will not be tolerated.

My men watch with bored expressions on their faces. They are soldiers who understand what happens when one of them doesn’t obey. Gia will learn as they did.

“Please”

“I warned you,” I remind her. “I warned you what I would do. You are not a guest here. The only reason you arealive is because I chose to have mercy.” I strike her again. “We are not equals. This is not a vacation. You will tell me what I want to know when I want to know it. I saved you and therefore I own you. Disobedience will be met with swift discipline. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she sobs.

“Yes, sir,” I inform her. “Say it.”

When she remains silent, I give her another two strokes.

“Yes, sir,” she gasps.

I won’t lie, I am glad she gave me a reason to punish her, but I hate the effect it has on me. I’ve punished women before and none of them made me anywhere near as hard as I am right now. There is something about having this small waif of a girl strewn over my lap, her ass baring my marks beneath her thin legging, that has a beast roaring inside of me. I told her if she disobeyed, I would strip her from the waist down, but when it came time to do it, something inside of me clawed against the idea of anyone but me seeing her skin on display, reddened with my lashes.

I’m a sick fucking bastard, and Gia Nardoni has become my newest obsession.

Carefully, so she doesn’t end up dizzy with the blood rushing to her head, I stand her up and face her toward my men.

“Apologize to them for your disobedience.”

Her jaw clenches but she straightens her shoulders, her chin in the air as she stares them down. “I’m sorry.” Despite the slight hiccup that interrupts her words, her chin remains high and her gaze unwavering. Her spine is straight, her chin lifted, and her eyes hold a steady gaze as she faces them. The room is thick with tension, yet she maintains an air of grace that few women manage to uphold after the sting of humiliation.

Gia will learn to obey, and if she doesn’t, there are many more punishments that will come her way. I have no doubt that she will earn another belting before long because I have made a decision.

Gia Nardoni belongs to me.

At least until I kill her brother.

If not longer.

Five

I’m embarrassed.

Humiliated.

I can’t believe the monster of a man spanked me in front of all his men. No, not spanked, belted. As if I was some errant child in need of discipline. The one thing I am grateful for is that he did not follow through on the threat of baring my ass. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if he did.

Currently, I am contemplating murdering the man next to me, whose name I still don’t know. The only name I’ve heard him called by isDon. But it doesn’t make sense. There is only one leader of the Italian mafia, and this isn’t him.

“Rest,” he instructs me as he lifts the armrest between us. “Scoot over and put your head on my shoulder.” The muscles in my body stiffen at his demand. His sudden change from domineering master to whatever this current mood is, gives me whiplash.

“I’m not tired,” I tell him.

“I didn’t ask if you were,” he says, one arm snakingbehind my back and pulling me toward him. “I told you to rest and that will be easier by putting your head on my shoulder. Now do it. I’m not going to ask again.”

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