Page 25 of Savage Union
"Why did you stop?" I ask, hating how breathless I sound.
"Because punishment should never be pleasurable." His gaze is knowing, seeing right through me. "For either party."
The admission hangs between us, heavy with implication. This wasn't just about discipline—it affected him too. The realization shifts something in my understanding of Vito Rosso. He's not just cold calculation; there's fire beneath that ice.
"I'm not afraid of you," I say, though my racing heart suggests otherwise.
"You should be." He steps closer, crowding me against the desk. "But not because I'll hurt you."
"Then why?"
His hand cups my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone with unexpected gentleness. "Because I understand you, Caterina Gallo. Better than you understand yourself."
I want to deny it, to pull away from his touch, but my body betrays me again, leaning into his hand. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know you crave control because you've never had any." His voice drops lower. "I know you push boundaries to see if they'll hold. I know you're stronger than you believe and more vulnerable than you admit."
His words strip me bare, seeing through my defenses with terrifying accuracy. "Stop it."
"I know that part of you hated what just happened." His eyes lock with mine, intense and searching. "And part of you didn't."
Heat floods my face. "You're disgusting."
"I'm honest." His hand drops away. "Something you might try sometime."
I step to the side, putting space between us. My body still thrums with confused energy—anger, humiliation, and something darker I refuse to acknowledge.
"Are we done here?" I ask, voice steadier than I feel.
"For now." He adjusts his cuffs, mask of cool control back in place. "Your punishment isn't over, though."
"What else could you possibly do?"
"You're confined to your room for three days. Meals will be brought to you." He moves back to his desk, already dismissing me. "You'll have plenty of time to think about your choices."
"House arrest within house arrest? How creative." The sarcasm is reflexive, a shield against the confusing emotions still swirling through me.
"Would you prefer I continue where we left off?" He doesn't look up from the papers he's organizing, but there's a new edge to his voice.
"No." The answer comes too quickly.
"I thought not." A hint of smugness colors his tone. "Go to your room, Caterina."
I move toward the door, desperate to escape the charged atmosphere, but pause with my hand on the knob. "This doesn't change anything. I'm still not your property."
Now he looks up, those dark eyes burning into mine. "No, you're not my property. You're my future wife. The future Donna Rosso." His smile is cold and knowing. "And today was just the beginning of your education."
The threat—or promise—follows me out the door and down the hallway. My body still burns where his hand landed, the sensation a constant reminder of what just happened. Of how I responded.
In my room, I lock the door and slide to the floor, just like after the disastrous dinner party. But this time, the emotions churning through me are more complex, more troubling. Humiliation. Anger. And something else—a dark, unwelcome heat that I can't seem to extinguish.
Vito Rosso had punished me, as promised. But what terrifies me most isn't the punishment itself—it's that some traitorous part of me hadn't wanted him to stop.
I press my hands to my burning face and make a silent vow: I will never, ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that. I may be forced to marry him, but I'll never fully submit.
Not to Vito Rosso. Not to anyone.
CHAPTER 7
