Chapter 5: *****

"Stand down," Damiano said.

His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the dead silence of the grand ballroom like a blade. The six security guards hesitated for a fraction of a second, their gun barrels still leveled squarely at my chest, before they slowly lowered their weapons and stepped back into the shadows of the stage.

Before I could even take a breath, Damiano’s hand shot out. His fingers clamped around my right wrist like a steel handcuff, the pressure immediate and absolute.

"Let go of me!" I yelled, digging my heels into the carpeted steps of the stage as he wrenched me forward.

"Keep your mouth shut and walk," he growled, not even looking back at me.

He dragged me off the platform, his strides long and aggressive. The crowd of elite guests parted instantly, pulling back to create a wide path as if we were a pair of live wires ready to snap. The frantic whispering started up again, a low buzz of shock and judgment filling the room, but Damiano ignored it completely. He pulled me through the double doors at the back of the ballroom, out of the blinding camera flashes, and straight into a long, private hallway.

"You're hurting my wrist!" I snapped, twisting my arm violently in a useless attempt to break his grip. "Let me go, you lunatic!"

"You should have thought about your wrist before you decided to put on a show for my rivals," he said, his voice tight, his jaw locked in a rigid line.

"They deserved to see it! You deserved it!" I fired back, my boots skidding against the slick marble of the hallway floor as I tried to slow him down. "You can't just buy people! You can't just force me onto a stage and tell the world I'm yours!"

"I can do whatever I want in this city, Valentina, and it's time you learned that lesson," he said.

He reached the end of the corridor, threw open a heavy mahogany door, and yanked me inside a secluded, dimly lit room. He let go of my wrist just long enough to slam the heavy door shut behind us. The lock clicked into place with a definitive, heavy thud.

Before I could even turn around to face him, his hands gripped my shoulders. He whirled me around and slammed my back flat against the solid wood of the door.

I gasped, the impact knocking the air right out of my lungs. I braced myself, my muscles locking up as I expected him to raise his hand, to yell, to hit me for what I did on that stage. My hands came up between our chests, my palms pressing hard against his suit jacket to push him away.

"Go ahead!" I breathed, staring straight into his dark eyes, refusing to look down. "Do it! Hit me! Show me exactly what kind of monster you are!"

Damiano didn't raise his hand. He didn't yell.

Instead, he stepped closer, using his massive frame to crowd me completely against the door until there wasn't an inch of space left between us. His chest was heaving, his breathing heavy and ragged, pressing hard against mine with every single rise and fall. The sheer anger radiating off him felt hot, thick, and suffocating, filling the small room until the air felt heavy.

"You think I'm going to hit you?" Damiano asked, his voice dropping into a rough, low rumble that vibrated right against my palms.

"I know what people like you do when they don't get their way," I spat, my voice shaking despite the hot rage bubbling in my chest. "You use force. You threaten people's fathers. You drag girls out of their apartments."

"I haven't used a fraction of the force I'm capable of, Valentina," he whispered, his face tilting down toward mine.

The anger between us seemed to shift, warping under the heavy pressure of the quiet room into a sudden, intense physical heat that made my skin prickle under the thin black silk of my dress. He was so close I could feel the warmth of his skin, the sharp scent of his expensive cologne filling my nose, making my head spin. I pushed against his chest with everything I had, but it was like trying to move a brick wall.

"Get off me," I whispered, my voice losing some of its edge as my heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "Seriously. Stand back."

"No," Damiano said.

He didn't move an inch. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down further, his lips brushing right against the sensitive skin of my ear. A sharp shiver ran straight down my spine, my breath catching instantly in my throat.

"You wanted to play rough in front of my guests?" he growled softly, his voice a dangerous, intimate promise that made my knees feel weak. "You wanted to show everyone how much fight you have in you?"

"I'm not playing a game with you," I choked out, my hands tightening on his jacket, gripping the fabric just to keep myself upright.

"Neither am I," he murmured.

His right hand left my shoulder, sliding slowly down my arm before tracing a path along the exposed skin of my bare waist. The touch was firm, heavy, and hot. Before I could protest, his fingers found the high slit at the side of my black silk dress. He slid his large hand inside, his calloused palm pressing directly against the bare skin of my thigh, moving upward with a slow, deliberate pressure that made my mind go completely blank.

"Stop," I breathed, though the word came out as nothing more than a faint gasp.

"You don't dictate the terms anymore, Valentina," Damiano said, his hand tightening firmly on my waist, pulling my hips flush against his, leaving absolutely no doubt about the sheer physical dominance he held over me.

I looked up, my eyes locking onto his dark, hollow gaze. The amusement from before was entirely gone, replaced by a raw, unyielding intensity that terrified me more than any weapon his guards could have pulled.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked, my voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Damiano gripped my waist harder, forcing me to look at him as he delivered the words right against my lips.

"The wedding is moved up to tomorrow morning," Damiano growled, his eyes darkening with a sudden, final decision. "There will be no more waiting. And tonight, you sleep in my room.”