Big mistake.
Roberto reached down and tugged at the chain between my breasts, a surge of pleasure zinged from my nipples to my clit. “Focus, Eva.” He softly stroked my bottom, which was on fire.
Mortifying tears trickled down my cheeks and I begged, “Please, Roberto. No more. I learned my lesson, I’ll be good.”
“I know you will, my sweet. This punishment is for your own good. To help you attend what matters. Do you understand?” I nodded, hoping my obedience would encourage him to take it easy on me, but he had no such leanings and brought his bare hand down on my buttocks which burned beneath his first blow. “Again.” He growled.
“One.” I clenched my fists to fight the shame of this more personal and somehow raw discipline with nothing to get between our skin.
“Two!”
I flinched away from the pain, which inflamed my flesh where he struck it.
“Three!”
I made it all the way to the count of six before I started begging, “I’m sorry Roberto, I’ll do whatever you say! Just please stop it burns so bad, my butt is on fire!”
“Something for future consideration. Your obedience is paramount. Unless you want me to blister your bottom.”
After making me count to ten, showing me no mercy, he pulled me up straight, took my chin and lifted it until I was looking up at him. I was mortified to realize I was holding back tears.
I found it hard to meet his eyes, ashamed to stand before him, not just naked, but bare all the way into my soul.
“Did I do a good job?” I sniffled, while at the same time feeling an odd sense of pride, something no one could take away from me. For not only had I done as I was told, I learned that I liked being told what to do. And it wasn’t just the tequila talking, nor was this just about Roberto and me.
I was so tired of being a fuckup.
What if despite our being from different worlds, I could give Roberto what he needed and he could do the same in return?
Approval.
Focus.
Trust.
What if we held each other so tight, all of our broken pieces fit back together?
He pulled a throw off the back of the couch, wrapped it around me and used it to pull me to him. “You were amazing. I’ll keep you safe, my princess. No curse will touch you.”
The hair lifted at the nape of my neck and I wonder what exactly he needed to protect me from. What this curse was all about.
He called me “princess,” but I was more of a pauper.
Even if class difference didn’t destroy us, could I really learn to be the good girl he loved and the bad girl he desired?
Or was tonight just a matter of getting each other out of our systems?
15
Roberto
Last night she made me her man.
Oh, sure. The dom was in charge. In control. The boss man who gave the orders.
But now that I’d bound her to me in this way, I’d protect her with my life.
Which is why what was about to happen made absolutely no fucking sense at all.
We’d sorted out a safe word. But that didn’t exactly protect Eva from what I knew I had to put her through.
Her savior becoming her tormentor.
Stranger things happened.
Like finding my destiny, walking barefoot and soaking wet on the side of a darkened, mountain road.
That night was a far cry from seeing her splayed out on the sheets next to me now, her skin honey-gold, and her body a playground I couldn’t stop running to in my mind.
Torn between crushing her to me again, or letting her sleep, I decided on the former. There was no way I could resist being inside her one more time—before sending her to her downfall.
If that made me a bad guy, so be it.
16
Eva
I had to call ‘buela. No way I could put it off any longer.
“Who is it?” she asked, not recognizing my new number, and the sound of her voice brought tears to my eyes.
“It’s me, grandma. I have a new phone.”
“Eva, I’ve been so worried! You said you would call once you got to your new job. Why didn’t you?”
“It’s a long story, Grandma, but I promise I’m okay. I met someone and I’m going to send for you so you can come meet him. Will you do that for me?”
My grandma believed in love at first sight, so I had little explaining to do. Pretty sure I could go on a dirt diet and she’d be cool with it.
I was her little girl.
She listened to me talk about Roberto while Jack drove me into Briarville, and I hung up when we pulled up in front of the store where I’d pick up dessert. My body went warm thinking about the things he did last night, and I wanted to make sure everyone else was sweet on something as well.
Jack pulled into an empty parking spot behind Sweetness and Light. “I’ll be right back.” I told him before closing the door.
The minute I rounded the corner and laid eyes on the tall, imposing man in front of me, I knew he meant to do me wrong. True to form, he snatched up my wrist and clamped a zip tie onto it. I flung my Berkin bag at his head, smacking him in the face and startled him enough so he let go of me.
I kicked off my heels and bolted, but before I could escape, the oaf snatched up the back of my jacket, yanked me back to him, and tossed me over his shoulder. I felt the unmistakable poke of a firearm in my side and shuddered when he said, “Don’t you fucking scream, princess. You do, and you won’t live to see tomorrow.”
That he called me Roberto’s pet name freaked me the fuck out.
The mobster seated next to me in the car didn’t appear to be the sharpest tool in the shed, so I couldn’t blame him for his chosen profession. He reminded me of a Saint Bernard, massive, watchful, mouth breather. The folded kerchief in his suit pocket was out of context in this situation. I wondered about the female who dressed him up like a schoolboy for class photos so he could go out and bash heads.
His unsuspecting charm made me feel guilty to plot and plan against him as we drove to wherever these goons planned on taking me.
His doofus buddy, the driver of the car, had zip tied my hands in front. As it just so happens, I’d recent experience with the range of motion possible while handcuffed.
Now to apply that knowledge to my advantage.
Guns or no guns.
17
Roberto
“What do you mean, she’s gone?”
A waterfall of red trickled down over my vision and a drumming kicked up a bass note in my ears.
“I’m sorry, Roberto, I shouldn’t have let her go alone into the store. She can be very persuasive.” Jack wrung his hands and I actually felt bad for the guy, “I saw the vehicle drive off and have the plates. It’s one of the Mironov’s.”
“If it is, then they’re using Eva as a bargaining chip. Get me Valko on the phone. Find out what he wants.” Valko was the underboss for the local Bulgarian gang. He’d know what was up, and I’d make him pay if he had a hand in it.
Most long-standing members of the Cosa Nostra outgrew violence. Gun fights and hits were the territory of gangsters new to the U.S.; still ascending the ranks. The territory of men like Valko Mironov, who stood before me thirty minutes later in my office in town.