Page 21 of Immoral

His lips curl. He drags his finger over the spot on my neck he bit, making me squirm. "You in the risqué outfits I choose, wearing a collar representing that you belong to me, kneeling and waiting for my command."

I glare at him, hating how much that statement makes my pussy pulse. I fume, "Never. I will never kneel for you."

His expression tells me that he doesn't believe me. He traces my lips with his thumb. As if he has zero doubt, he declares, "You will. In fact, you're already craving it. I see it in your eyes, my tesoro. And no matter how pissed at me you are, you're never going to stop wanting or needing what I give you."

"Fuck you," I whisper.

His grin widens. He says nothing else and leads me off the plane and into the car that's waiting on the runway. As soon as the door shuts, his phone rings.

I ignore him during the drive, staring out the window and trying to drown out his voice. He barks orders in Italian at whoever called. More irony hits me. I used to love listening to him exert his authority over others. Something about it made me fall harder for him. Now, it reminds me how much more power he has than me.

When his hand slides over my thigh, I don't even attempt to move it. Deep down, I know everything he said is correct. I've always craved what only Gianni can give me. All I ever wanted was to be his. And damn the truth, because I always needed it like a drug addict needs a fix. But now, I can't give in to my desires. Whatever I do, I need to remember that Gianni Marino, my husband, is nothing but a snake—a cold, venomous snake who will stop at nothing to destroy me when he gets bored again.

5

Gianni

"Your papà calleda family meeting and brought me into it," Luca states, as if he's slightly bored.

I study Cara. She's been staring out the window the entire trip. I slide my hand on her thigh, watching a blush creep up her cheek. Satisfied I wasn't wrong and she still responds to my touch, I hold myself back from tossing my phone on the other seat and taking her in the car. Instead, I tell myself to be patient. I speak in Italian and ask, "What did he order?"

Luca grunts. "He wanted me to tell him where you're going."

My cousin is a few years older than me. While he respects my father, he's not scared of him. It drives my father nuts, even though he's never admitted it. But I also know he's loyal to Papà. And I am aware of how skilled my father is at getting the information he wants from men. So I didn't trust Luca with any information on where I was taking Cara. I state, "Good thing you don't know."

Luca doesn't respond to my comment. He informs me, "Dante argued with your papà for quite a while. He's ordered a hunt for Uberto."

I squeeze my fist, taking a deep breath. I told my brother not to go after him. I want every bit of satisfaction when I capture him and he begs for mercy. However, I should have realized Papà would get involved. I ask, "How mad was Papà?"

Luca yawns. "Oh, the usual. You didn't miss much. I got assigned to Tristano's team."

I run my hand through my hair, tugging at the back, and slide my other palm to the inner part of Cara's thigh. She takes a deep inhale but still doesn't look at me. I tell Luca, "Make sure it's clear no one, and I meanno one, lays a finger on him until I get home."

He replies, "Already done."

I hang up and dial Dante.

He answers after one ring. "Where the fuck are you?"

I count to five in my head. For some reason, numbers have always calmed me. I keep my voice at a level I feel is in control so I don't freak Cara out. She's fluent in Italian, so she can understand everything I'm saying, but I've never worried about her listening in on my business calls. There's always been an inherent trust between us, even though we've never discussed my dealings. I continue speaking in Italian and reply, "None of your business. And I told you to wait until I got home."

Dante hurls back, "Fuck off, Gianni. You knew Papà would decide what to do about this. And he wants you to call him and get your ass home."

I'm not doing either of those. My papà already left a voice message that I've not listened to and several nasty text messages. "What did you tell him?" I question.

Tension fills the air. I count to fifteen before Dante replies, "Nothing. He knows I'm lying to cover your ass again."

I cringe inside. I hate that Dante is constantly going to bat for me lately. Yet, I can't seem to stop getting into these predicaments. But now that I have Cara as mine, hopefully, I'll be able to get back on the same page as my papà.

Dante sniffs hard. "Did you force her to do it?"

I don't have to ask how he knew I married her. We've always had a sixth sense when it comes to each other. I rub my thumb over Cara's thigh, an inch from her slit, and more heat flushes her cheeks. I'm tired of this conversation and reply, "Why are you asking me things you already know the answer to?"

"Jesus. You didn't have to do that. You know we could have protected her without forcing her to marry you," he states.

I count to ten then respond, "Nothing makes a statement to other crime families more than paying for a woman and then marrying her. You know this."

Cara's head snaps up. She gapes at me then her eyes turn to slits.

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