Page 16 of Power
I eat like someone might take it away, wiping the plate clean before reaching for the clothes. Soft fabric, casual but expensive. A fresh start, or another way to make me comfortable in my cage?
The door creaks open, and I tense, muscles coiling tight.
Dario leans against the frame, watching me.
“Good girl.”
Rage and something worse churn in my gut, but I say nothing, and I swallow them. They don’t belong here, not in front of someone like him. I have to keep my head, play my part, and keep him in control.
My mind slips away from the moment, and I think of the reason I’m here.
My husband.
I met him when I was barely more than a girl, swept up in his charm before I even understood what it meant to be wanted by a man like him. He had this way of making it seem like nothing else mattered when he looked at me. It wasn’t just his confidence—it was the way he carried himself, like he already owned the world and was only deciding what to do with it.
I remember the first time we met. Some women talk about love stories set in bars, restaurants, places drenched in candlelight and charm. Mine wasn’t like that. My husband found me, or maybe I pulled him into my life by daring fate. Either way, when we met, I was drowning in debt, newly homeless. He’d just walked out of a business meeting, heading somewhere important—until his car ran me over.
It wasn’t even serious. A few scrapes, nothing more. But he insisted on taking care of me.
That’s how he is. Or how he used to be. Caring. It’s been weeks since I’ve felt that side of him, but things can change, can’t they? If I try harder, if I make him see me again, he’ll save me. That’s what he does.
He’s my anchor, the one constant in my life.
Not every woman gets to be with a man like him. He’s the one who knows how to make everything right, even when it feels like the world is spinning out of control.
The way he looks at me... it’s like I’m the only one who matters in his eyes. Sure, he can be demanding, but it’s only because he cares so much. He’s just so passionate abouteverything, and I’ve always admired that. Sometimes, I think maybe I’m the one who needs to try harder. He’s taught me so much about strength and confidence. Without him, I wouldn’t be the person I am now.
No one understands him the way I do. People can judge him all they want. They don’t see the man I do—the one who’s always there when I need him, who’s never truly let me down.
There are times, of course, when his temper gets the best of him, but that’s only because he loves me. He’s protecting me, even if I don’t always see it at the time.
Maybe they don’t see how much he’s given to me, how much he’s made my life better. But I do. I’m grateful. I’ll always be grateful.
I just need to do this one thing for him. Do what he asks of me.
And then, he’ll come for me. He’ll pull me out of this like he always does. Because he always keeps his promises. He will save me. He will make everything right again.
I have to believe that.
Chapter 5
Dario
I’ve been watched before. Exhibitionism has always turned me on, especially when there’s more to it and the endgame is a rocking orgasm. My body recognizes this so well that when I’m being watched, I feel a ripple effect inside me—like walking on ice, the thrill of doing something so magnetic. That’s why, when Vittoria is dragged into my home office, my body fires up immediately.
It strikes me how much I’ve been thinking about her, how I’ve been trying to memorize the fine lines of her face. Damn, she has a body that leaves a man wanting nothing else. Today, she’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt—ones I know she borrowed from Dannika. I know this because I personally asked Dannika for them, just until my assistant finds more suitable provisions for this feisty woman.
Standing at the edge of my desk, I watch her.
“I don’t know how you can do this,” she says, dropping her hands to her sides and flattening them against her creamy skin. My eyes follow her movements, imprinting the sight of her naked flesh in my mind. She meets my eyes, and it feels like I’ve been struck at point-blank range by something sharp—both fatal and beautiful.
“I can’t help you out. My husband never tried to rope me into his business.”
“I hate when you say that.” My eyes snap back to her face, finding her lips slightly parted.
“Hate when I say what?” She sounds genuinely surprised and confused.
“Talking about your fucking husband as if he’s the only reason I brought you here.” I don’t intend for my voice to come out harsh, but it does. She doesn’t know my plans or my intentions. Yet all she seems to think about is how he’s somehow the reason for this, as if she isn’t an incredibly beautiful woman any man would kill for or kidnap.
