“Hands away,” he says sternly when I try to cover my blazing ass in yet another attempt to avoid my fate. I can’t believe he expects me to simply obey and let him do this, but should I really be surprised? This is how things are in my world. Women are possessions. We’re supposed to do as we’re told. There’s no real freedom, only distractions from the captivity we are born into. Every stroke of the belt is reminding me that what I thought was my emancipation from the world I came from was only a temporary reprieve. Sooner or later, I will be claimed by one of the men in my father’s world, and they will want me to be pure. That is what this monster is doing. He’s not teaching me a lesson. He’s protecting my future husband’s investment.
“You are precious,” he says, inadvertently confirming my thoughts. I am precious, but not for myself. For them. I am young and beautiful, and the part of my body which is still somehow wet in spite of this shocking punishment, is what I will be traded on.
“Fuck you,” I curse, my fingers curling in the sheets. I can’t escape the heat, but I can resist the pain. I can steel myself against it. I can… “Owww!” I whine as he somehow finds a part of my cheeks as yet untouched by his leather.
“You’re going to stop hanging around with drug dealers, stop going out to clubs and parties. You’re going to go to school and you’re going to do your homework, and you’re going to graduate,” he lectures. “If I have to come here and do this every day for the next four years, I will.”
Holy fuck. I can’t imagine this happening even one more time, let alone every day I’m in college. My ass couldn’t take it, and my pride definitely couldn’t either. I am humbled beyond imagination, lying on the bed where I thought I would be deflowered, and instead punished to the point of tears and beyond. I can’t speak. All I can do is sob, and hope he is done with me soon.
The belt lashes against my ass with what turns out to be one last time, catching me low across the curves of my cheeks. The tip of the thing wraps around, leaving a last kiss of heat on the most tender part of my thigh.
“Don’t make me come back here, Mia,” he says, bending down over me. I feel his hand run briefly through my hair, and then I feel the last thing I expected to feel, a tender kiss pressed to my temple, a moment of gentle intimacy completely at odds with the rest of my experience of him. “Be a good girl now.”
Chapter 3
Enzo
This is the first time I’ve been this close to her, so close I could touch the little dimple in her cheek if I wanted to. So close, I can see the fine line of dewy hair on her forehead, the delicate widow’s peak that needs to be kissed.
I don’t deny I’m all kinds of fucked up. The jobs I do, the code I live and die by. I’ve exacted punishment from those who’ve stolen from us, those who’ve betrayed the family. I’ve killed men who threatened the livelihood of the family.
And I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess if I hadn’t let my dick lead the way. So for God’s sake, I can’t do that now.
But when she turns to me, her eyes half-glazed from whatever-the-fuck she’s on, her tanned body glistening with whatever she’s slathered on to work on her tan, and her ass criss-crossed deliciously with the stripes of my belt, every nerve in my body’s on fire.
I shouldn’t have punished her. I shouldn’t have touched her. I know the signs of arousal, and I’ve just lit a fucking match. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips parted. She braces herself on the bed, but her knees are trembling and it looks as if she’s struggling to catch her breath.
I shouldn’t walk away. I should run.
But like a damn idiot, I need to know. I want to find out. Is she aroused by punishment? I lace my belt through my loops and don’t break eye contact. If she doesn’t get the message, coming over here was a waste of time.
“Get out,” she repeats.
“Watch your mouth,” I say, taking a step closer to her. To her credit, she looks a little abashed. Good. Seems a few hard smacks of the belt have done their job.
She brings her pretty, delicate fingernails, painted bright cardinal red, to her throat, and swallows hard.
Bingo.
Christ.
Not my imagination then.
She’s never been disciplined. She’s never been spanked with a heavy palm until she came. I could fix that.
In the distance, someone shoots off fireworks over the water. The sudden boom makes Mia jump. I blink, as if coming out of a trance.
What the fuck am I doing?
I was sent here as punishment, to make amends. If Piero Russo finds out I touched her, he will fly over here from Italy and murder me with his own bare hands.
“Leave,” she says, but her icy tone’s thicker, and her cheeks are flushed pink.
I have to get myself out of her fucking apartment and get back home. The asshole isn’t a threat to her anymore. Not now.
“Behave yourself.”
I turn and leave before she can respond. I walk through her apartment, but take note of everything. A half-empty bottle of Prosecco on the counter beside a Juul and a cell phone. Notebooks, pens, and her schedule. Of course she’s gotta be playing with fire under my watch. Excellent.
I leave her apartment with reluctance, but I take a moment to make sure her door’s back in place before I go. Something feels off, and my conscience pricks me. Even though I’m right next door, watching everything she does, she isn’t safe here. I shake my head, leave the building, and go back to mine.
I watch her on the feed. After a time, she walks through her apartment, and shuts and locks the sliding glass door.
Good girl.
I’m lying in bed in boxers, my suit hanging up in the closet for the next day above glossy black shoes and my briefcase. Tonight, I’m Enzo Caprio, soldier for the family. Tomorrow, Professor Caprio.
I slide my phone off the bedside table, and click the footage of Mia. She’s changed into a tiny tank top and boxers. I swallow hard. No bra, her breasts swing free, and the tiny pair of boxers barely covers the swell of her ass, still striped red from the lashes of my belt.
Christ.
I punch my pillow and go to put my phone down, when I see her reach for her schedule on top of her books. She stares at it, biting her lip.
Her shoulders pull back when she draws in a breath, then slides her paper back on the stack and heads to bed. I click on the second camera feed that leads to her bedroom, telling myself this isn’t creepy at all. It’s my job.
She shuts off her light and climbs into bed, but I can still see her by the light of the moon, her perfect features lit up with the gentle white light. She’s got so many pillows on the bed she has to toss half a dozen to the foot before she can rest comfortably. She’s swallowed up by the cavernous bed, easily ten times her size. She looks like a little girl playing house.
I’d help her fill that bed.
Christ, maybe I should bang the chick next door, scourge my mind from the filth that riddles it. And just as I go to put the phone down again, I watch as she slides her hand beneath the covers. She barely lets them cover her, so I can see the top of her hand right above the little shorts she wears.
God. No. I should shut this off. I should turn away. I’m already lusting after this woman so badly my balls ache, but if I don’t stop myself—