CHAPTER 004

FIORELLA’S POV

I shook my head, refusing to move despite the effect his command had on me.

This had to be a very bad dream.

I pinched my arm to make sure it was real.

Rhys tilted his head to the side. “You can do as I say or endure the humiliation of forcing you myself.”

“Just let me go.”

His cold smile remained in place, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched me like a predator watching its prey.

“That’s not happening,” he returned. “You will be my wife.”

There was no hesitation in his voice.

“And I hate when people don’t listen,” he added. “For the last time, come sit.”

I shook my head in defiance. “I’ve already lost my dignity, I have nothing left. I won’t roll over for you.”

Rhys frowned, then stood up and walked across the office to me.

My breath caught.

I screamed when he grabbed my arm and pulled me closer as he walked back to his chair.

He sat and hauled me onto his lap.

Then he leaned closer, his gaze burning into mine. “I can already see how fun it would be to destroy every piece of you.”

It was humiliating being so powerless, but deep down I knew I deserved it.

I deserved every bit of hate he had for me.

I wanted to be strong. I wanted to throw something sharp back at him, but tears escaped me instead.

Still, I whispered, “Fuck you, Rhys.”

His amused smile returned, his hand moving around my waist to hold me in place on his lap. “We will get to that soon enough. Sign the papers.”

I turned to the table and saw the papers through blurred vision.

My eyes met his again. “I don’t want to get married. I just want to live my life. Let me go, Rhys.”

He stared at me, his dark eyes cold enough to unsettle me up close.

Slowly, he reached up to brush his thumb across my cheek and stared at the tear.

And to my horror, he gently said, “Better get used to the tears. Pain is the only thing you’re ever going to feel with me.”

His words only made me feel worse.

“But it’s been years,” I didn’t give up. “I’ve seen more women on your arm than I’ve seen you alone.”

He let out a low and cruel laugh, his hand moving around my neck now.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked, unable to stop my tears from falling. “This isn’t you. This isn’t the man I fell for. Rhys… I truly loved you.”

“The person you fell for was a boy,” he spat, his hand tightening around my throat. “And the man he is now doesn’t need your fucking love anymore.”

“Can’t we just—”

“Enough,” he snapped. “You were everything to me until you ripped my heart open. Now, all I want to do when I look at you is kill you.”

I inhaled sharply.

“You’re mine, Fiorella,” he said, his voice sending chills down my spine. “And not the way you were before. You’re mine to break, to fuck, and to destroy piece by piece until I lose what’s left of myself in you.”

Then he shoved my face to the side with more force than necessary, letting go of my neck to hold up the pen.

“Now, sign the fucking papers.”

A shiver of horror ran through me.

I hesitated for a second before taking the pen from him.

With shaky hands, I had no other choice but to sign where he wanted me to.

Rhys’s hand closed over mine, steadying it as I signed my name.

He took the pen after I was done and signed, then turned to me. “See? That was easy.”

He said it so casually, like he hadn’t just put my life in his hands.

Anger blazed through me now.

I tried to move away from his lap, but his hand around my waist held me back. “Don’t touch me.”

He laughed, dark and mocking.

“The thing is,” he drawled, “I could take you right now on this table. On the bed across the room an hour from now. Any time I fucking want.”

My lungs felt too tight to breathe.

I turned back to him and held his gaze. “You’re a monster. I can’t even recognize you anymore.”

He stared back at me unblinking, neither of us willing to look away.

The door pushed open and snapped whatever was between us in two.

“I was surprised why you didn’t send for me, Don,” a woman said as she walked into the room. “I can see why now.”

She was wearing a long skirt and a top that barely covered her upper body, providing just enough material for her nipples.

She had straight and long dark hair, and her olive eyes were mesmerizing.

If she had curls and warmer eyes, she would have looked almost exactly like me.

But even like this, the similarities between us were impossible to ignore.

Her eyes ran down my body. “I see where your type originated from. Vani tells me you two have history.”

Any other man and I would have found it flattering that I influenced his type in women, but with Rhys, it only made me wonder what other psychotic things lurked inside his head.

“You should knock next time before barging into my office, Celeste,” Rhys spoke behind me. “I’m a married man now.”

Celeste’s brows lifted. “Married?”

Her gaze dropped to the marriage papers on the table, then snapped to me again, sharper this time.

“I never had a formal induction because I was unmarried,” he said. “Turns out the mafia treats Dons like royalty.”

Rhys’s hand tightened around my waist.

“Problem?”

A smile spread across her lips, but I could see the irritation beneath it. “None at all, Don. I’m just surprised.”

“Get used to it now,” he said lazily.

I became painfully aware of the position I was still trapped in—sitting on his lap while another woman stared at me like she was trying to figure out what exactly made me special.

Or a threat.

As if my life wasn’t already complicated enough. I didn’t need to be in this kind of situation.

She turned to me and smiled. “What’s your name?”

I glanced at Rhys before responding. “Fiorella.”

A spark lit in her eyes. “I’ve heard about you before.”

A knot formed in my stomach.

“That’s enough,” Rhys warned.

But she continued anyway. “The infamous Fiorella.”

Rhys’s amusement vanished and the air in the office shifted.

Celeste seemed to notice too late.

His voice was calm now. “I said enough.”

Celeste looked at him and straightened. “Apologies, Don.”

He stared at her for a long moment before speaking again. “Leave. I’ll see you later.”

She hesitated.

That tiny pause alone told me she was used to getting away with more than most people around him.

Then she nodded once. “Of course, Don.”

She walked out.

“Maybe you should inform your girlfriend before you decide to get married to your ex,” I said when we were alone. “Not after, you jerk. And why does she look like me?”

Rhys finally pulled his hand away from my waist.

I ran out of his hold.

“Do I look like I do girlfriends?” he asked with a bored tone, searching his drawer for something.

He pulled out a cigar and tapped one out slowly.

“No,” he answered his own question. “Girlfriends are for men with free time and emotional stability.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “So what is she then?”

Rhys placed the cigar between his lips and lit it, completely unbothered by my irritation. “Nosy.”

“Be serious, Rhys,” I said.

He took a slow, long puff before responding. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Like hell, I am,” I scoffed. “She spoke as if she knew me. Don’t tell me you’ve been telling people about what I did to you.”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t care,” I snapped back. “I just don’t want another woman looking at me like she wants to claw my eyes out because you dragged me into your mess.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as smoke left his lips. “Relax, doll. Celeste knows her place.”

The nickname irritated me even more now.

“Stop calling me that.”

“No, doll.”

I glared at him.

Rhys leaned back against the desk casually, watching me like he found me entertaining.

“You still haven’t answered my questions,” I pressed. “Who is she and why does she look like me?”

That made him pause for a brief moment.

“You think too highly of yourself,” he said flatly. “Don’t you think that’s a little narcissistic, even for you?”

The answer should have satisfied me, but seeing how he had been acting since he forcefully took me away, I knew I needed to be worried.

“She literally has my face.”

“She has dark hair and bright eyes,” he retorted. “Congratulations. Half of Italy looks like you.”

I could hear the irritation creeping into his voice.

He was obviously gaslighting me.

“You’re insane,” I whispered.

Rhys stared at me before crushing the cigar into the ashtray beside him. “You figured that out a little too late.”

Then he stood up and walked closer to me.

I stood my ground this time, lifting my head to hold his gaze.

“Get on the bed,” he said.

My mind blanked. “What?”

He didn’t repeat himself.

He lifted me over his shoulder and crossed the room, dropping me carelessly on the small bed.

I tried to get out of it but he held me down.

“Get your hands off me,” I screamed, clawing and scratching at his hand. “Just go ahead and kill me because I would rather die than sleep with you.”

That only made him smile.

He overpowered me easily and turned me over to lie on my stomach.

I kept kicking and scratching for him to let me go to no avail. “Please… don’t touch me…”

I felt one hand slip into my jeans and pull the waistband lower.

I tried to be strong but my eyes blurred with tears again.

He seemed hell-bent on making me relive my old traumas, which would explain why he wanted to force himself on me.

I would hate him for the rest of my life for this.

I would kill him when I got the chance.

Before he could kill me.

I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the sound of ripping fabric and the pain that would follow.

But instead, the whirring of a machine floated to my ears.

I opened my eyes and glanced back over my shoulder.

Rhys winked at me, holding up a tattoo machine. “I’m a different kind of monster, doll. I just want everyone to know who you belong to now.”

His fingers ghosted over my skin.

I shuddered under his touch. “Rhys? What are you doing?”

He smirked, then he leaned down and began inking my waist.