Chapter 3 – Caged in Silk

The Valenti Estate, Sicily – The Next Morning

“Did you really think you'd get past my men in bare feet?” Azrael asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Celeste, who looked like if she had a knife she'd have stabbed him.

“No, but I had a fair chance of leaving this fortress and finding help outside here.” She shot back as she was being dragged away by Azrael's men.

“Next time before you decide to run away, make sure you're wearing shoes.” 

Celeste bared her teeth at him. She'd tried to run away earlier that morning when she thought it was too early for anyone to be awake. But she'd barely made it as far as the first gate when she got caught.

Her ankle stung from the twisted sprint across wet grass. Her ginger bed hair had now progressed to a wild mess running down her face.

“I want to call my father and go back to school. I'm sure my friends are worried. Do you think you can get away with kidnapping me? I'm sure it's all over the news by now.”

Azrael cracked a slow smile, and Celeste bit her lower lip, hating the butterflies that danced in her belly. He dragged his eyes over her body, and she was suddenly aware that her silk robe was clinging to her body and it was wet from the garden dew.

“And what exactly will be in the news, Cara Mia?” He asked, still openly ogling her.

“Let go of me!” she snapped at the guards, jerking her arms free. “I don’t belong here!” But they only gave her space and dispersed when Azrael waved at them.

Azrael was the only thing holding her from being free. She eyed him with his hands in his pockets, and his dark shirt rolled at the sleeves and his collar open at the throat. She now wondered if he'd gone to sleep at all.

“Do you like what you see, Cara Mia?” He looked sinfully composed like he had not spent the last hour commanding a manhunt through his private gardens for a twenty one year old American woman.

“Don't call me that! My name is Celeste. I want to leave this…place.”

He tilted his head, dark eyes raking her slowly. Her robe slipped off one shoulder, revealing the pale strap of silk lingerie beneath which was among the only things she’d found in her closet the night before.

“I knew you would run,” he said, sounding amused. “I left the door unlocked on purpose.”

Her lips parted. “You bastard. Why?” 

Azrael took a slow step forward. “You needed to learn something, Celeste.”

She backed up, only to hit the stoned pillar behind her.

“You are not in D.C. anymore. There are no headlines here. No daddy’s lawyers. No girls’ brunches and boutique galleries. This is mine. You're in my territory and you are mine.”

“I’m not your prisoner,” she said, but it came out too breathless. She didn't believe it herself.

He reached out, brushed her wild hair away from her cheek. “You’re my fiancée.”

She stiffened, her vision blurred and she felt like she would faint. “What the hell? This must be a dream.” She scoffed. 

Azrael's fingers curled into the sash at her waist, pulling her into him. “You think I’m going to hurt you?” he murmured. “You think I’ll use my fists?”

“All I care about is going back home. I am not your fiancée and I promise you that you have the wrong woman. Take me home and maybe I'll think about forgiving you and not reporting my father. He can have you thrown in jail.”

He tugged the sash open, ignoring her. The robe parted, and the pale rose silk clung to her curves like a second skin. He didn’t touch. Just looked. Like a man circling prey.

“This attitude is the reason you're here, Cara Mia. It turns me on…” He leaned in, his breath hot against her temple.

Celeste didn't push him away even as she fought the urge to sniff him. He smelled so good. Like musk and cinnamon. She hated that her body reacted to him the same way it did that night at the bar.

Then he turned and walked away. He left her standing there, her robe open, her skin flushed, and her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

****

“What the fuck did I get myself into?” Celeste muttered more to herself than anyone else.

Celeste sat at the edge of her bed, clutching the sheets, trying to calm her breath. But it didn’t stop. The heat. The humiliation. The memory of his voice in her ear when they’d dragged her back.

"You’re not ready to beg yet. But you will."

Her fingers dug into the silk sheets. She didn't like that she was attracted to the man who had forcibly taken her away from everything and everyone she loved. From her life. But she hated herself more. Because her body didn’t feel scared. It felt… alive.

The door opened, and a maid peeked in. “Miss… he said if you want to eat, you should come downstairs. He’s waiting.”

Celeste swallowed. “Tell him I’m not hungry.”

The maid hesitated. Then nodded and left.

Celeste stood, pacing. Her reflection in the mirror mocked her. Red cheeks. Shaking hands. The way her thighs pressed together.

She whispered under her breath. “Why do you look like that? Why do you feel like this?”

Finally, she turned and walked to the door.

The hallway was quiet. Her bare feet made no sound as she crossed the marble floor, heart hammering harder with every step.

When she reached his room, she stood there, staring at the carved wood.

She raised her hand and knocked.

“Come in,” came his voice.

She opened the door. He was there. Shirtless. Leaning against the bedpost, glass in his hand. His grey eyes lifted to hers, dark and sharp.

“You changed your mind,” he said.

“No,” she whispered.

His eyebrow arched. “No?”

“I…” She swallowed. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You do,” he said.

She shook her head. “Stop saying you know what I want.”

He took a long drink and set the glass down. Then he stepped closer.

“You ran from me,” he said.

“I know.”

“And then you came back to me,” he said.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

He stopped in front of her. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him.

“Why did you come here?” he asked.

She looked down. “Because… I hate that you didn’t touch me.”

For the first time, his lips curved into a slow smile.

“You hate it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His hand lifted her chin. “You hate it so much… you couldn’t sleep,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t stop thinking about me,” he said.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“If you want me to touch you, then say it,” he said.

Her cheeks burned. “Touch me.”

He tilted his head. “Say it louder.”

Her voice shook, but she met his eyes. “Touch me.”

His smile widened, dark and hungry. “Strip.”

She arched an eyebrow. “What?”

He leaned closer. “Take it off, princess. Now.”

Her hands rose to her shoulders. The straps slid down. The silk nightgown pooled at her feet and She stood there—naked, flushed, trembling. He stepped back slightly, his eyes dragging over her body.

“Better,” he murmured.

She wrapped her arms over her chest, but he caught her wrists and pulled them away.

“Don’t hide,” he said.

“Why not?” she whispered.

“Because you came to me,” he said, his eyes burning into hers. “And now… you’re mine.”

Her hands rose, trembling, to the straps on her shoulders. She pushed them down. The gown slid over her breasts, down her hips, and fell in a whisper to the floor.

She stood there—naked, flushed, beautiful. Feminine in the way only a woman born of soft power could be.

Azrael set his glass down and approached slowly, circling her once. She turned with him, breath shaky.

He stopped behind her, lifted her chin so her eyes met the mirror.

“I want you to see everything,” he whispered against her ear.

Then he dropped to his knees.

Celeste couldn't breathe when his hands slid up the backs of her thighs.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” she lied, her voice barely a whisper.

He smirked against her skin. “You are. And I haven’t even started.”

His fingers gripped her hips as he parted her legs, exposing her. She gasped, feeling the warm air on her bare skin, feeling him breathe her in.

“So wet already,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “Did you come here hoping I’d do this?”

Before she could answer, his mouth was on her.

She let out a cry, loud and unfiltered. His tongue licked her slowly at first, just a tease, flicking over her clit, then pulling away.

“Azrael—” she gasped.

“Say what you want,” he said, glancing up. “Tell me.”

“Please… touch me again.”

“Where?” he asked, smirking.

“There,” she moaned. “With your mouth.”

He groaned and pressed his tongue against her again, firmer this time. He licked her with long, slow strokes, then focused on her clit, circling it slowly before sucking it into his mouth.

Celeste gripped the edge of the vanity in front of her, her knees buckling.

“Eyes on the mirror,” Azrael said, pausing just long enough to command her. “I want you to see what I do to you.”

She opened her eyes and looked. Her reflection was flushed, hair messy, lips parted in a soft moan. She looked… desperate. And he was still behind her, buried between her thighs.

His tongue worked her expertly. He added two fingers, sliding them inside her slowly.

“Oh God—” she gasped, arching.

“Louder,” he said. “Let the whole estate hear you.”

“Don’t stop,” she moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept licking her clit while curling his fingers deep inside her. Her body tensed, then shook, a wave of pleasure crashing over her.

She cried out as she came, trembling against the mirror, her hands flat on the glass.

Azrael held her hips steady. Even after she came, he didn’t stop. He kept sucking her gently, licking her slowly, until her legs shook again. 

He only let up when a loud knock made her shake.

Azrael growled low in his throat, straightening. “Who is it?”

A heavily tattooed man entered, bowing slightly. “Sir. Senator Rivera is on the line. He asked to speak… directly to her.”

Azrael’s eyes darkened as he turned to her.

“Take it,” he ordered, handing her the receiver.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted it to her ear.

“Hello?” she said, voice breaking.

Her father’s voice came through, calm and practiced. The same voice he used when lying to the press.

“Celeste,” he said. “I trust you’re being… cooperative. I hope you understand the position you’ve put me in. I did what was best for everyone.”

Her stomach knotted.

“You sold me,” she whispered.

He exhaled impatiently. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s not like that. You’ll marry him, and everything will be fine. I’ve already called the university and arranged your leave of absence. Consider this… an extended engagement.” Celeste felt like the room was spinning. “You’ll make me proud,” he continued coolly. “At least one of my daughters should. He says you’re beautiful. That’s all that matters. Don’t ruin this for me.”

Her knees gave way, the receiver slipping from her fingers. She crumpled to the floor, and unfortunately for her, that was the last thing she heard her father say to her.