Page 7 of Savage Union
"You're crazy."
"I'm forced to do this to protect everything I’ve built. Do you understand? We're both prisoners," he says, and for a moment, I glimpse something like resignation in his eyes.
The tension thickens, becoming something else entirely. My heart pounds against my ribs, but beneath the fear stirs something I can't control, something I don't want to name. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch burns against my skin like a brand.
No.
I slap his hand away. "You wouldn't be so ruthless. If you hurt them, you will go against the Mafia code," I challenge, grasping at straws.
His hand closes around my throat—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make his point. His grip says everything his words don't: I'm at his mercy.
"Don't make the mistake of thinking you're in control," he warns, his voice low.
I swallow hard, my pulse racing beneath his fingers. He leans so close I taste the sweet mint on his breath. The darkness in his eyes should terrify me. He's trying to intimidate me, and it's working. But I can't let him see that. If he senses my fear, he'll always have the upper hand.
"I'm not some puppet you can?—"
His mouth crashes into mine, cutting off my words. For one traitorous second, I forget why I'm here, why I should hate him. My lips move against his—the only soft thing about him. Thenreality returns with a vengeance. I bite down on his lip, hard. The taste of iron floods my mouth.
He releases me instantly. "Feisty." Amusement colors his tone as he wipes blood from his lower lip. "Let's go over the rules you must obey."
"I don't understand," I begin, but he moves closer, crowding me with his presence.
"I expect nothing less than absolute obedience. My word is law, and my orders are final. You will remain confined to this penthouse. Your only freedom will be granted with my presence or explicit permission. This is not a marriage. It is a contract. Do not mistake this for love because there is none and never will be. You are here to fulfill your role as Donna. You will be punished if you dare to break my rules."
“Oh, is that all?” The disdain drips from my tongue.
His smile turns sadistic. "Not quite. The most important rule is that you can't say 'no' to me."
"So let me get this straight. Not only did you kidnap me, but you expect me to be your slave? Who the hell do you think you are?" Anger burns through my fear.
"Your Don," he states simply, as if it explains everything.
"This is ridiculous. You can't keep me prisoner."
"Bambola, this is your new reality."
"Do you think you can just snap your fingers, and I'll fall in line like some obedient pet?"
"I don't expect you to fall in line,bambola. I know you will." His confidence is maddening.
I back up, mind racing. "Stop calling me ‘doll.’ I don't care who you are. No one owns me."
"Do you think you're free?" His voice is dangerously calm, like the eye of a hurricane. "You're in my world now."
I fight the knot of fear climbing my throat. "Do you think you can break me?"
"I don't need to break you." He takes a slow step forward, closing the distance I tried to create. "Because I own you."
"I'll never, ever accept being your possession."
"Oh,bambola, I don’t need your acceptance."
I try to hold my ground, but my stomach twists with something darker I can't name. The pull between us isn't just him. It's me, too. The realization chills me to the bone. Vito isn't playing games. This is his world—and now, I simply exist within it.
"You're already mine," he says, certainty ringing in every word.
"I will never be yours," I insist, my voice weaker than I want it to be.
