The Don's Mute Bride

Sweat trickled down Don Riccardo Volsi's chest, seeping deep into where our bodies joined.

I knelt on the bed as he held me tightly from behind.

His firm abs pressed against me, and his broad palm gripped the base of my thigh while his lower body slammed into my buttocks with fierce, rapid thrusts.

It was too fast. The overwhelming sensation of being penetrated made me long to hold him.

"Don't touch me." Riccardo tilted his head away from my outstretched hand.

Was it because my hands were too dry and chapped? Was that why he only allowed me to grasp the cold brass bedpost?

Annoyed by my distraction, he bit hard into my shoulder.

"Cover your mouth. Don't make a sound," he reminded me.

I nodded, feeling him move inside me.

A stifled groan rose in my throat again and again, cold sweat soaking the hair at my temples.

Noticing my discomfort, Riccardo leaned down to whisper in my ear, "What's wrong? I rarely come back, yet you're not doing your best to please me. Are you unhappy about something?"

After saying that, he pulled away as if losing interest. Then, he put on a ring engraved with the Volsi family crest and donned his suit.

From beginning to end, he never once looked back at me.

Just as Riccardo was about to leave, I finally snapped out of my daze and grabbed the hem of his clothes.

He immediately brushed my hand aside and warned, "Liliana, remember your place. You're just a bug who has no right to ask me to stay."

Then, as if something else occurred to him, he added in a low voice, "If you're feeling unsatisfied, I'll allow you to use something else on yourself. Perhaps you could use your little toy hammer?"

I shook my head frantically, my face flushing red. But that only seemed to displease Riccardo further.

"Or do you want to go to those bodyguards?"

No! I wouldn't!

"Liliana, I like it when you're obedient," he said flatly. "Do your job well. You should feel honored that Sofia appreciates your talent in design."

As if wanting to sear the words into my brain, he continued, "Your work is what keeps you alive. Do as Sofia asks, understand?"

The Principessa of the Greco family, Sofia Greco, was in charge of smuggling high-end antique jewelry and laundering the proceeds.

At the sound of her name, the memory of that torment came flooding back, and I could scarcely keep myself from shaking.

Three years ago, after my parents died and my family was wiped out, I ended up in Sofia's factory. I was almost raped by the foreman when Riccardo saved me and brought me to his home.

Once, while Riccardo was dozing off, I stole a kiss from him.

His eyes snapped open, and the way he looked at me was as if he wanted to devour me whole. The next moment, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me boldly, his tongue entwining with mine.

It wasn't until I was struggling to breathe that I heard a rare, low chuckle coming from him.

And that was exactly when Sofia saw us. The fleeting venomous expression on her face filled me with dread.

Right in front of Riccardo, she declared that I was extraordinarily talented and would entrust all her jewelry to my care.

Riccardo readily agreed to it.

But as soon as Riccardo went abroad, Sofia threw me into an airtight basement studio and ordered me to work endlessly. Once, I even worked for 72 hours straight.

She had me dismantle large quantities of smuggled goods and create counterfeit pieces that were indistinguishable from the authentic pieces.

Years of grueling work had worn down my hands, leaving them covered in scars. One time, the blowtorch's flame came within an inch of blinding me.

My parents had been renowned antique jewelry restoration masters in Nexia. I also had been hailed as a prodigy since I was young, yet now I was enslaved by a mafia Principessa.

The painful memories had me urgently signing to Riccardo, "I can't work anymore. I'm sick, and my body hurts."

Riccardo froze. Then, he took a step back, his expression turning cold.

"But Sofia said you were doing well. She even built a private studio just for you. From what I know, she appreciates you greatly."

I wanted to explain that wasn't true. But just as I started to gesture, urgent footsteps came from outside the room.

"Don Volsi, Principessa Sofia is on her way here."

Hearing this, Riccardo gave me a brief glance. "What are you waiting for? Go."

All my movements came to an abrupt halt. I could only scramble to put on my clothes in humiliation and stumble out the door on shaky, aching legs.

As I staggered out, the bodyguard standing at the entrance, Alberto Santoro, grinned maliciously.

"You little tramp. The moment Don Volsi returns, you're already crawling into his bed. Principessa Sofia won't let you off when she finds out."

My face went pale, and I practically fled from the scene.

Maids whispered and pointed behind me as I made my way back to my room.

"The mute hussy is back. Look at the way she flaunts herself. Who knows what tricks she used to seduce Don Volsi."

"I heard that studio is where she services men. Male workers are always going in there."

I pushed those filthy comments out of my mind. Back in the cold room, I lay down on the bed and curled into a ball.

Thankfully, Riccardo was back. He would protect me, just like before.

I must've fallen asleep at some point.

Suddenly, the door crashed open.

Before I even knew what was happening, ice water was dumped over me.