Careful, wife. They bite.

Fina

I was running.

Barefoot. Laughing. The sun was warm against my skin and the grass brushed against my legs as I ran through the estate I grew up in. I could hear someone chasing me — familiar footsteps, familiar laughter. I didn’t look back because I didn’t need to. I knew who it was.

“Fina, slow down!”

I laughed harder and ran faster. Then the sky changed.

It darkened too quickly, like someone had pulled a curtain over the sun. The laughter faded. The grass beneath my feet felt wet.

Too wet. I looked down. Red.

The ground wasn’t grass anymore. It was thick, dark, pooling around my feet. My dress was no longer the cotton sundress from my childhood — it clung to me heavily, soaked.

The footsteps behind me stopped.

When I turned around, the figure was no longer clear. Just a silhouette. Watching.

And then I wasn’t running anymore. I was standing alone in the blood.

I screamed. And woke up.

For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was.

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar in that half-awake haze. My head throbbed. My mouth felt dry. My body felt heavy.

Then reality began to sharpen.

The shattered frames on the floor. Broken glass glinting against morning light. A wine bottle tipped over near the dresser.

Memory didn’t return gently. It crashed.

The party, Gabriel.

Me smashing the portraits, the car arguments.

His voice — cold, merciless. My voice — breaking.

I swallowed hard.

The dress I wore to the party was folded on the couch near the bed. That meant someone had taken it off me.

Heat crawled up my spine. I tried to push myself up —

And froze.

My wrists didn’t move.

At first, I thought my body was just stiff from sleeping wrong. But when I tried again, panic flickered.

My hands were secured above my head. Metal against skin.

Handcuffs.

My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, carefully, I looked down.

The sheet had slipped to my waist. And I was completely naked beneath it.

The last clear memory I had was standing in front of Dario, drunk, furious, calling myself crazy.

What happened after that?

The bathroom door opened. I turned my head sharply.

He stepped out, steam following him into the room. His hair was still wet, pushed back carelessly. A towel hung low on his hips. Water traced down his chest, over muscle carved by years of discipline.

Even half-dressed and barefoot among broken glass, he looked controlled.

He didn’t smile.

“Good,” he said evenly. “You’re awake.”

My throat felt tight. “Why am I cuffed?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He simply walked across the room, stepping over shattered frames without hesitation.

“Look around,” he said calmly. “Perhaps you’ll remember.”

Shame crept up slowly this time.

“I destroyed your things,” I murmured.

“You did more than that.”

I swallowed. “I need to use the bathroom. I’m not drunk anymore. Please take them off.”

He stopped beside the bed and looked down at me.

For a moment, there was nothing in his expression.

Then he gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

“You think this is about the alcohol?”

“Then what is it about?”

He leaned down, bracing one hand on the mattress beside my shoulder. Close enough that I could smell his soap.

“Last night,” he said quietly, “you begged me to end the wedding. You told me you were a psycho. You tried to provoke me into walking away.”

My heart pounded.

“Did you?”

His lips twitched slightly. “No. I said if you’re a psycho, then perhaps that makes you more suitable for me.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

Something in his tone shifted the air.

“Maybe I’ve been too patient with you,” he continued. “Too controlled. And now you think this is something you can sabotage.”

“So your solution is to chain me to a bed?” I shot back, even though fear was beginning to thread through my anger. “That’s your version of marriage?”

His eyes hardened slightly.

“Don’t twist this.”

“Then what is it, Dario? Control? Intimidation? Because that’s all this feels like.”

He straightened, stepping back.

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” he asked quietly. “You provoke. You test. You push. You want me to break first.”

“And what if I do?” I snapped. “What if I don’t want this? What if I don’t want you?”

The silence that followed was heavy.

“You don’t get that choice,” he said finally.

My chest tightened.

“You are not a child,” he continued. “You are not some girl playing rebellion. You are about to be my wife. And that comes with consequences.”

I shook my head. “You embarrassed me. You threatened my friend.”

“He crossed a line.”

“He handed me a drink!”

“He wants what belongs to me.”

The words hung there. Belongs.

“I don’t belong to you,” I whispered.

His jaw flexed.

“You said you were a psycho,” he said after a moment. “You wanted to prove you were unfit. You wanted to scare me.”

I didn’t answer.

“Now,” he added, his voice dropping lower, more controlled than angry, “I’m going to show you that fear works both ways.”

My pulse spiked.

He moved closer again, not rushing, not grabbing — just standing near enough that I felt the heat from his skin.

“You wanted chaos,” he murmured near my ear. “You wanted to test how far you could go.”

His hand brushed my jaw lightly — not gentle, not rough. Just there.

“You don’t understand something, Fina,” he said quietly. “I don’t lose control.”

My breathing felt uneven.

“I shape it.”

My toes curled against the mattress.

He studied my face for a long moment — the anger, the fear, the shame battling inside me.

Then he stepped back.

“This isn’t cruelty,” he said calmly. “It’s correction.”

“I’m not one of your men.”

“No,” he agreed. “You’re more dangerous.”

I swallowed hard. He walked toward the dresser and picked up a suitcase I hadn’t noticed before. He didn’t rush. He didn’t look excited.

He looked deliberate.

“You will learn,” he said without looking at me,“that every action has a response. You embarrass me publicly, you challenge me in my own house, you try to force my hand — there will be a consequence.”

My throat tightened.

“Dario…”

His eyes lifted to mine again.

“This wedding is happening,” he said. “And you are going to walk into it knowing exactly who stands beside you.”

He leaned down once more, close enough that his breath brushed my ear.

“Welcome to your lesson.”

The way he said it made my stomach twist — not just with fear.

Something else. And I hated that I didn’t understand which feeling was stronger.

My eyes widened when he opened the case. Inside were different kinds of adult toys for BDSM.

My breath caught in my throat, and I could barely speak.

“Wh…at is this…?” I stuttered in a whisper.

He said nothing, then picked up an item, which was a chain-like rope, the edges of it curved like a clip.

He turned and took slow steps toward me. I tried to shake the cuffs, but—

“Ow!”

He scoffed. “Careful, wife. They bite.”

I shook my head, terrified because I was oblivious to what he was up to.

“This is called a nipple clip.” He held the item up, then threw it on the bed beside me. I flinched.

Then he was over me, and I tried to kick with my legs, but he was stronger. He parted my legs and settled between them.

He smiled as he cupped my breasts, pinching my nipples. I tried to hold the moans, but as usual, they slipped.

“Ahhhh…” My tiny voice resounded.

He sucked my right nipple first — damn, it felt good with his warm mouth wrapped around it.

“I fucking love your tits. So perfect.” He squeezed and sucked my breasts, and I hated that I loved it.

It went on for minutes. He sucked and flicked my nipples until I nearly came.

Then he picked up the clip, and I watched him carefully clip both edge to each nipple.

“Fu…ck…” I whispered, my head bent back, eyes closed as the foreign feeling enveloped me. It felt good and it stung at the same time.

“That’s it…” he whispered, trailing soft kisses on my neck, sucking my skin upward until he reached my face. He licked my jaw, my ear, my chin, drooling over me, and fuck, it was so intimate it had me mumbling incoherent words.

Then his fingers found my pussy, and he teased my folds. Voluntarily, my legs opened on their own.

“I’m going to drive your psycho mind wild. Welcome to my world, moglie.”