Page 20 of Immoral

His lips curl. "It's not your concern. But make no mistake, Cara, you are my property. And I'm a man with needs. I'm only going to tolerate this attitude of yours for so long, so know this. Whatever I've done up until now, it's a mere fraction of what I'll do going forward to keep you safe and as mine."

My blood charges through my veins. I seethe, "You don't own me, Gianni."

Satisfaction surges into his expression, making my gut dive. He opens his mouth then snaps it shut. In a quick move, he releases the leash and collar from my neck. He rolls off me and jumps off the bed. "We've landed. It's cold outside, so make sure you wear all the layers." He motions to the end of the bed.

I sit up and glance at the pile of clothes before aiming my glare at him. Everything about the wedding dress and designer attire pisses me off. "How long were you planning this? Did you know what Uberto was going to do to me?" I fire at him.

He crosses his arms over his chest. "I told you he was an Abruzzo. I warned you to cut it off with him. Did I have any previous knowledge that he would drug and auction you off? Not anything specific. But it doesn't even matter. In the future, when I tell you to stay away from someone, you listen. You obey me. Are we clear?"

Sharp rage intensifies within me, digging into my bones. I lift my chin. "I'm not your child, nor will I ever obey you. The days of me trusting you are over."

His nostrils flare. "Do you wish I didn't rescue you, then?"

I look at the blanket then close my eyes. My stomach pitches. If Gianni hadn't saved me, where would I be right now?

Not married to him.

It's better than the alternative.

Is it though?

Jesus, how can I even ask that?

It's Gianni Marino. King of breaking my heart too many times to count.

"That's what I thought. Get dressed. You're Mrs. Gianni Marino now. It's how it always should have been and isn't going to change," he orders.

Sure. Until you're bored with me again,I think but don't voice it out loud.

When the sound of the door shutting hits my ears, I open my eyes, taking several deep breaths. I reach up and hold the spot on my neck Gianni bit, wondering how he can still physically affect me after he's hurt me so much.

I slowly pick up all the clothes stacked on the bed, debating whether I should wear the sexy gold and black bra and panties. Normally, I'd love them, but it's Gianni's taste. I'm sure he has lots of visions about what he wants to do to me in them.

It again makes me wonder how long he knew about my kidnapping. Was this planned? Did he allow me to be drugged and sold so he could get his way?

I swallow hard, not putting it past him. He'll do anything without hesitation if it's a means for taking what he wants. So I can't trust anything he says about that situation or anything else.

I stare at the lingerie, still contemplating whether to wear it or not. I finally decide I'm going to use it to my advantage. I'll wear it then prance around him later tonight, only to torture him.

If he wants me to be Mrs. Gianni Marino, I'll show him what that means. Only, I'm not going to be the dutiful wife who dotes on him. He'll see what he gets for tricking me into marrying him.

I get dressed then go into the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face then study myself in the mirror.

I can do this.

I just need to keep my pants on where Gianni Marino is concerned.

I give myself a pep talk then leave the bedroom. Gianni is waiting right outside the door. He gives me a look of approval then tosses the collar and leash on the chair. His arm slides around my waist. He dips down so his breath hits my ear. "Don't worry, tesoro. I'm getting you a new one."

I turn to him, hold my breath, and reprimand myself for the adrenaline rushing through my body. I shouldn't want anything from him—especially not a collar.

His cocky expression grows. He slides his hand over my ass, palming my cheek.

My knees weaken. I lean into his support, cursing myself again.

He sniffs hard. "It took me by surprise, too. But, hey, maybe it's what's been missing between us all these years."

"What's that?" I ask, even though I shouldn't.

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