Page 30 of Cruel Heir

“Stay right there,dolcezza,” he murmurs, his hand pressed against my lower back. For a moment, I could almost believe that it’s desire keeping him there, that he wants me in his arms. But I know the truth. I know he doesn’t want to let me up because he wants me pregnant, because he thinks that the longer he can keep his cum inside of me, the more likely it is to take root.

I have no idea if that’s true, but I want him to stop touching me. I can’t bear to be so close to him any longer. I hate him, and myself, and everything that’s happened here tonight. I hate that I was stupid enough to think I could run, and I hate that I lost control of myself again, that I forgot more than ever that Andre is my enemy.

That I can never, ever trust anything he says, or anything he makes me feel.

“Just let me go to bed.” I twist away from him, reaching for the door handle. His hand closes over mine, his grip suddenly hard and punishing, reminding me of the way he held it before the wedding. I remember how it felt as if he might break my fingers, he gripped it so hard.

“Fine,” Andre says, his voice deceptively quiet. “Get dressed,principessa, and go up to bed. I promise that you won’t be leaving your room tomorrow. I’ll be keeping averyclose eye on you after this.”

His hand drops away, and I shove the door open, scrambling off of him. I’m viscerally aware that I’m naked in the middle of the garage, my skin prickling in the chill of the air, the heat of Andre’s cum dripping down my thighs a stark contrast. I grab my pajama pants and t-shirt, dragging them on as fast as I can, and I don’t miss the smirk on Andre’s face as he tucks himself back into his joggers, watching me from the passenger’s seat.

I don’t wait to see what he’ll do when he gets out. I turn tail and flee, out of the garage, up every flight of stairs to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me as I fling myself into bed. I drag the covers around myself, curling into a ball, squeezing my eyes tightly shut as the reality of it all crashes down on me again and again like a relentless wave.

I won’t get another chance. I had one tonight, slim as it was, and it fell apart at the last moment. Andre won’t forget it. And he’ll be watching me more closely than ever now.

I turn my face into the pillow and sob, my entire body shaking with each shuddering breath, as if my life were coming to an end.

And right this moment, it feels as if it is.

10

ANDRE

The next morning, I wake to a message from Don Amalfi, letting me know that he wants me to come to another meeting.More allies to discuss our plans with,he says, and the message lifts my spirits considerably—which is much needed. Especially after last night.

If only she would accept that this is how things are, it would all be so much easier.Just thinking of last night makes me ache, the ever-present throb of desire that I’ve felt ever since bringing Lucia home spreading through me, but I find, to my dismay, that it’s not only that. When I first blink awake, before I’ve really come alive for the day, I feel a momentary stab of disappointment that she’s not there. I remember that she’d said she wanted to stay—and then I remember everything that followed, and that she lied to me.

That’s the worst of all, I think—that she tricked me. That my conniving little bride wheedled her way into spending the night in my bed, making me think that she was frightened and wanted to be near me, and used it as a means to steal my keycard and try to escape. I’m furious with her—and also slightly impressed, which I find even more irritating.

I’ve known girls like Lucia Fontana all my life. One of them wouldhave been my bride, eventually, had things turned out differently. Every pedigreed mafia daughter I’ve ever known has been sheltered, pampered, spoiled and arrogant, utterly ignorant of the world around her, and utterly dependent on being cared for. My sister was never like that, but then again, she was never very good at playing her role.

I expected Lucia to be the same. I expected her to beg and plead and cry, to look at me with innocent eyes and tearful accusations—and there has been some of that. But what I didn’t expect was for her to actually have spirit. For her to talk back, when she finds the nerve. For her to come up with an escape plan good enough that, had I not woken up, might have actually worked.

I also hadn’t expected her to fight so terribly with her own desires.

I’ve enjoyed twisting her desires against her, getting my revenge by making her want what she’s been forced to endure. But I can feel those lines starting to blur. Last night, in the car—

I shake my head, getting up and striding to the shower. Last night, I’d been overcome with emotions, exhausted from the day, pulled out of my sleep in the middle of the night, and furious with her. Whatever happened doesn’t matter, and I feel sure that her punishment—as pleasurable as it was for me—will be a firm reminder for her of what stands to happen again if she tries anything more.

Although I don’t plan to give her even the slightest chance.

I go to her room once I’m dressed, pushing the door open without bothering to knock. Lucia is sitting on the edge of her bed talking to her maid, and both women go silent as soon as I step in.

“Get out,” I tell the maid, jerking my head towards the door, and she scurries away without the slightest protest.

“You shouldn’t talk to Celeste like that,” Lucia says flatly, glaring at me. “She didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

“Hasn’t she?” I raise an eyebrow at Lucia, trying to bait her into admitting to some wrongdoing, but my wife is smart enough not to fall for it. Once again, I can’t help feeling slightly impressed, as irritating as that is. I hadn’t expected it from her. “I’ll talk to the staff how I please, Lucia. But I’m not here to discuss the intricacies of managing a household with you.”

“What are you here for, then?” She sounds tired, and I suppose I can’t blame her. After the events of last night, I’m feeling a little worse for wear myself. “Should I go ahead and take my clothes off now, or would you like to do it for me?”

The sarcasm is thick enough in her voice that I feel the urge to punish her for it. “You’re lucky I have a meeting to get to,” I tell her silkily, watching her pale slightly as she recognizes the tone of my voice. “Or else I might give you another lesson in how to use your mouth,principessa.”

Lucia flinches ever so slightly, but she doesn’t say a word. She just looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to finish whatever it is that I came here to tell her.

I let out an exasperated breath, frustrated with myself for almostwantingher to fight with me. I should want whatever makes this simplest, but Lucia’s way of baiting me into an argument has become almost addictive. The rush of it, the way it feels to subdue her, the way I’m never quite sure if I’ve actually entirely won—

I take a breath, forcing myself to refocus. “I have a meeting, as I said,” I repeat. “I’ll be gone for most of the day. On account of your little escape attempt last night, you will be confined to your room. I’ll have the guards on this floor and downstairs tripled, and told to especially keep an eye out for you, so don’t try anything. Two of them will be directly outside your door, and they’ve been told to call me immediately if they suspect any mischief from you.” I narrow my eyes at her, my gaze holding hers pointedly. “You do not want to find out how angry I’ll be if my meeting is interrupted because you tried to leave your room, Lucia, I promise you that.”

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