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CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
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THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
“ Genevieve ? What are you doing here?”He was still a few steps down from her. Enough that she had space to get up, so she did. She ran up the rest of the stairs, down the hallways, through the entryway, and up another flight to the east wing. She locked the door behind her even though it was useless.That other woman knew Genevieve had been there. What must she think? Was she going to be angry about it? Embarrassed?A moment later, the key turned in the lock and Clint stepped into the room, sucking all the air out. Snowball and Squish hid under the bed. Whether they were responding to his energy or her fear, Genevieve couldn’t be sure.She eyed the cane firmly clasped in Clint’s hand. This could be the moment he lost control. She dropped to her knees, her legs not able to support her in the face of what might come next. She held her arms defensively in front of her. “Please, I’m sorry...”He looked down, as if only now noticing he still held the cane. He crossed the room and se
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Clint descended the stairs into the dungeon to find Miss Fin sitting on the red leather couch against the wall, her feet pulled up with her. Shehadn’t bothered to get dressed, but had put down a towel from the bathroomto sit on.She looked up when he entered the room, and he felt a moment’s guilt for what he was about to do. Fin was the whole package, and if not for Genevieve, he might have tried to see what could develop. But taking hisownership of Genevieve to the next level had become an all-consuming obsession.Her consent upstairs had been given with a large amount of fear, but an equal amount of dignified determination. He was almost tempted to call itoff again, but he needed this. How could he know what she could and couldn’t handle if he didn’t give her the chance?“I’m not going to see you again, am I?” Fin asked. Hearing Genevieve crying on the stairs was all she’d needed to start putting pieces together.“We keep missing each other. I’m with someone or you are. Pe
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Genevieve’s appetite had fled the moment he’d said he was taking her to thedungeon. She was glad he hadn’t forced her to eat dinner because she was sure she wouldn’t be able to keep it down.For the past week she’d been on edge, her appetite shrinking each day.If Clint had noticed, he hadn’t said anything. Each day she woke wondering if today was the day. She wasn’t like those other women. She couldn’t do this.The reality of what was coming should have made her hate him. It should have wiped away any residual attraction or fuzzy emotion. If it could have, she might have begged to be released from her promise. Even if itmeant she’d never have love or companionship, it would protect her from the things downstairs.But she still felt for him, and watching him take other women wouldonly kill her by degrees. When he’d pulled her into his arms, he was the safest person in the world. She’d almost forgotten he was the cause of her angst.When he opened that metal door, she thought
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY
The eerie music played on as they lay in bed. Some of the songs she recognized, some she didn’t. There couldn’t be more than an hour on the record. Hadn’t they been down here months? Years? But it must have been less than an hour. Was time even real? The curtain had been pulled back to reveal the void where every second was eternity, and there was no way back out again to where time marched on like obedient linear soldiers.She’d tried to prepare herself for the hitting, but when Clint bent her over and fucked her instead while she was too scared to be turned on, itbrought everything home. She was his property. She didn’t want this, but he’d been in the grip of something she didn’t feel strong enough to breakthrough. The Clint that acknowledged her wouldn’t be the one she thought she’d fallen in love with.Whatever romantic fantasies she’d had of love between them scattered and faded into the empty air. Why did it have to be like this?And to allow him to kiss her like that… to r
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Weeks passed. Clint healed. They returned to the world upstairs.He watched her across the table at dinner—her cheeseburger special.He didn’t know how she made them taste like they’d come right off arestaurant grill.Genevieve pretended to be consumed with the task of swirling a steak fry in a giant glob of ketchup on her plate.“I’ll speak to Raffalle . He might agree to release you if I convince him you aren’t a threat to the family. And I’ll smooth things over with your boss, so you won’t have to worry about him, either. To everyone else, I’ll say webroke off the engagement.”Genevieve’s ring glittered in the kitchen light. Clint hadn’t insisted she wear it all the time, but she had. And every time he saw it on her hand, he became more convinced she wanted their engagement to be real.But her happy ending came at a dark price… a price Clint felt increasingly guilty asking her to pay, no matter how much he wanted to keep her locked away in the glass room. If that night in
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Genevieve , did you know that a lot of what we call pain is about expectation? When you expect something to hurt a lot, and you tense allyour muscles, it hurts more. If you can relax and flow with it, it hurts less.Think of yourself like a stream flowing softly over rocks. The jagged edgesof the rocks don’t hurt the water, it just flows.” He allowed his voice to drop an octave as he spoke, becoming softer and less harsh, lulling her into a sense of safety.The music he’d selected fit well with the imagery he fed into her mind.He spoke quietly about water and flow and relaxing while he let his hands trail over her back, still wrapped in the warm cocoon of the blanket.He continued to speak as he went to the thermostat to raise it a couple of degrees. As the room warmed, he took the blanket away. She tensed, but not as much as before, so he poured some oil onto his hands to allow his skin to slide more easily against hers.He started at her neck, then worked down her back and
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Clint’s erection had grown physically painful, but he’d gagged her andwasn’t ready to replace the gag with his cock yet. Tears streamed down herface as he laid down lines of welts across her ass with the cane. He neededto make her cry more. She had to earn her pleasure with tears. Enough timehad passed for that to be the price.The gag frightened her, still, which drove him harder to use it. She needn’t fear. He knew when enough was enough with her. He’d beencareful and exercised restraint. Each time the cane came down, she wincedin a way that both made him want to comfort her and hit her again to watchthat reaction… the intense expression of pain on her face, the tears that rolled down, and the lovely welt as it bloomed so quickly into those sharp red lines with the groove he loved to run his tongue along.He knew what the cane felt like. Though, used properly, it didn’t oftenbreak skin, the hard rap of a thin dowel of rattan or steel always left aprofound impress
THE MAFIA AND THE ARTIST CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
Genevieve sat in front of a mirror in the many-windowed room in the eastwing. Her wedding veil lay before her on the vanity table.Alva hadoffered to help her get ready, but it was only a ruse to try to talk Genevieve out ofmarrying her Clint . It was anathema to her that Clint should be happy afterkilling her husband.“I know Clint is very charming, but you know what he did toElliott . What makes you think you’re safe with him?”As if Genevieve needed more things to fear. Though Clint hadn’t harmed her since that one night, it always existed as a possibility now.“Clint loves me,” she said. It hurt to say it because he’d never uttered the words, and she had no reason to believe it. But people assumedmarriage was about love, and if she didn’t speak in terms of romance and candy that his sister could relate to, someone might see through the whole ploy. And they were so close to the end.“Clint loves Clint .”Clint held back the urge to cry as Alva gave voice to her grea
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