Page 4 of Cruel Heir

It’s not enough for me to even the score. I need to tip it in my favor. I need to make himsuffer, the way I’ve suffered for two years, held prisoner far away from my family and my birthright. Kept from my rightful place as the Leone heir, while my simpering mother ran things in my absence, arranging a marriage for my sister, dragging our name further into the dirt. Prevented from setting things right.

Lucia’s death isn’t enough. I want her father to know that she’s being kept prisoner as I was. That every night, I’m fucking his daughter, filling her until she bears my child. That I will takeeverythingfrom him, including the right to give her to whoever he chooses.

I will takeher. Alive is better for what I want than dead.

At least for now.

“I’ve been watching you all night,principessa.” I stroke my thumb along her jawline, loosening my grip on her throat just a little. “Your father really has done an admirable job. You’re the very picture of elegance. Of beauty. A bride fit for the highest rank ofmafioso. A priceless treasure.”

Her eyes flash furious sparks at me. “And this is how you treat apriceless treasure,then? Manhandling it with filthy fingers and rude words?”

“I like your spirit.” I brush my thumb over her jaw again. “You’ll make this all the more fun for me by fighting.”

She makes a sound almost like a hiss, bucking in my grasp again, but all it takes is tightening my hand on her throat once more to settle her. I can see the fear in her eyes, no matter how well she tries to hide it.

She’s already terrified of what I could do to her. And she has no idea what’s in store for her after I take her away from here.

“My father will—kill—you—” she chokes out from behind my hand, her blue eyes going wide. “Let mego, and you can still get away—”

“Ah, the bargaining stage.” I fist one hand in her artfully curled dark hair, feeling the jeweled pins scattered through it dig into my palm. I tug her head back, releasing my grip on her throat as I stroke my fingers lightly over her cheekbone. “It won’t do you any good,principessa.”

She stares up at me, and I think I finally see the understanding beginning to dawn on her face. This entire time, she’s been thinking that at any moment, someone would come for her. That any moment, security would descend on me and save her. After all, that’s how stories are meant to turn out for pampered, spoiled little princesses.

Someone always swoops in and saves the day.

I stroke my fingers down to her plush mouth, pressing my fingertips against the soft flesh. I want to kiss her. I want to ravage her lips and find out how sweet her mouth is, a sweetness that would only beenhanced by the knowledge of what I plan to do to her later. But as I said, I want to do all of thisproperly.

So very properly, in fact, that there can be no question of my ownership when I finally take what’s mine.

“You’re coming with me, Lucia Fontana,” I breathe as I lean in, ghosting my lips over her cheek. “And then, whether you like it or not—”

I drag my lips to the very corner of her mouth, looking into her eyes, and I feel her shudder. A shiver that runs all the way through her—and one that, I think, isn’t entirely revulsion.

“Then,” I whisper. “You will be mine.”

3

LUCIA

I’ve never known fear before. Not like this.

I’ve beenafraid, in small ways that pale dramatically when compared to this moment. A dog that growled at me as a child, a turned ankle on a flight of stairs, a particularly rebellious horse back in the days when I was focused on riding lessons as my primary hobby. All things that made me afraid for my own safety, in ways that I naively thought would be the worst fear I would ever experience.

None of it can compare to this.

The man holding me wrenches my hair back, twisting his hand against my scalp. His fingers slide over my cheekbone gently, a cruel mockery of the painful grip holding me in place. And I know, to the depths of my sinking soul, that I’ve stumbled into something terrible. I feel fear like nothing I’ve ever experienced wash over me, cold and clawing, something that could only adequately be calledterror. A wave of nausea washes over me, and I want to struggle, but I’m not sure that Icanany longer. I’m past the point of fighting, too afraid to try to get away.

I was a fool to ever come out into the gardens at all.

I should have stayed inside. Where it’s brightly lit, warm, and safe—

But how could I have known? How could I have had any idea that this kind of danger awaited me just behind my own home?

I don’t even know who this man is.

When he kisses my cheek, I stiffen. There’s something disgustingly gentle about the gesture when compared with his tight grip on my hair, a lover’s caress while he holds me like a criminal. As his mouth drags over my skin, as the feeling washes over me, I feel something else, too. Something as wholly unfamiliar as the strength of the fear.

Excitement.

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