LOGINMy heart stopped dead in my chest.
I stared at the massive flat-screen monitor mounted on the far wall. The high-quality video feed was perfectly clear. Sitting at the head of a dark, familiar mahogany dining table was Don Dario Vitiello. My father. Standing directly behind his right shoulder, his face twisted into that cold, cruel scowl that had haunted my entire life, was Dante.The blood completely drained from my face. Pure, unfiltered terror locked every single muscle iKillian pulled back slightly, his hot breath washing over my face. He leaned in and deliberately licked the lingering taste of the apple right off my bottom lip. I stared at him in absolute horror. My chest heaved, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Before I could even recover, Killian reached back to the trolley and picked up a large, ripe red strawberry. He bit into it, holding the bright red fruit between his teeth. I shook my head frantically, trying to twist out of his lap, but he didn't listen. His hand locked on my jaw, and he crushed his lips against mine again. The strawberry burst between our mouths. Sweet, cold juice spilled over my bottom lip. It dripped down my chin, running down my bruised throat, all the way down to the lace of my black silk nightgown, pooling right between my breasts. He kissed me wetly, aggressively, pushing the fruit deep into my mouth until I had no c
When I opened my eyes, the room was pitch black, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the heavy curtains. I was lying in the center of the massive mattress in our bedroom. It was the middle of the night. My head throbbed with a dull, heavy ache. The memories of the study—the video call, the humiliation, his hand wrapping around my throat—came rushing back, making my chest tighten with sheer panic. I needed to get out of this bed. I pushed the heavy silk quilt off my body and dragged myself toward the edge of the mattress. I swung my legs over the side. The second my bare feet touched the hardwood floor, my weak knees completely buckled. I braced myself for the hard impact, but I never hit the floor. Two thick, muscular arms banded around my waist from behind. I
My knees dug into the thick carpet of the study.The massive flat-screen monitor was completely dark, but the horrific image of my father’s disgusted face was permanently burned into my retinas. The heavy, suffocating silence pressed down on me. I wrapped my arms tightly around my ribs, crying so hard my chest physically ached.I heard the slow, deliberate scrape of his leather shoes.Killian stopped directly in front of me.I didn't look up. I squeezed my eyes shut, my shoulders shaking violently.Killian leaned down. His large hands clamped firmly onto my upper arms. He hauled me up from the carpet effortlessly. My trembling legs could barely support my own weight. I stumbled forward, my chest hitting the solid wall of his stomach.The height difference between us was massive. The top of my head barely reached the center of his broad chest.He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling my upper body tight against hi
My heart stopped dead in my chest.I stared at the massive flat-screen monitor mounted on the far wall. The high-quality video feed was perfectly clear. Sitting at the head of a dark, familiar mahogany dining table was Don Dario Vitiello. My father. Standing directly behind his right shoulder, his face twisted into that cold, cruel scowl that had haunted my entire life, was Dante.The blood completely drained from my face. Pure, unfiltered terror locked every single muscle in my body."Come here, wife," Killian murmured.His voice was not the dark, furious bark he had used in the bedroom this morning. It was smooth. Arrogant. Dripping with twisted amusement.I couldn't move. I was staring at the monsters who had raised me, the men I had finally escaped, and they were staring right back at me through the screen.Killian didn't ask again. I heard the soft scrape of his leather shoes against the carpet. He walked up right behind me.
I stayed curled in the chair long after my sobs finally died down into dry, painful hiccups.My throat felt like it was stuffed with crushed glass. Every breath scraped on the way down. I slowly lowered my legs, my bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor. My thighs trembled violently as I pushed myself up from the table.I ignored the spilled water and the piece of fruit resting on the rug. I dragged my aching, exhausted body into the bathroom and pushed the door shut, locking it behind me.I leaned heavily against the marble sink, my hands gripping the edges so hard my knuckles turned stark white.I looked up into the mirror.My breath hitched. My fingers shook as I slowly reached up to my throat. My fingertips brushed the dark, angry purple hickeys and the harsh bite marks covering my collarbones and jaw.He had branded me. But the bruises themselves weren't what made my stomach turn. The true horror was the sick, twisting knot of shame in my chest when I remembered exactly how I
Hot tears finally spilled over my eyelashes. They tracked down my cheeks, soaking directly into his fingers holding my jaw. He was right. That was the most sickening part of all of this. My body had completely betrayed me. "No," I sobbed, my voice a pathetic, broken rasp. "I hate you. I need the pills. Please." "No," Killian repeated, his tone entirely void of mercy. He was the mafia king again. Selfish, arrogant, and completely in control of my fate. "I hate you," I cried, hitting his solid chest weakly with my fists. The blows did absolutely nothing to him. "I hate you so much." Killian’s grip on my jaw released, but before I could step back, his hand slid around to the back of my neck. He tangled his thick fingers deep into my damp hair. He yanked my head back sharply, exposing my throat entirely to him. "I am trying to be sane with you," Killian warned. His voice was a dark, dangerous threat against my ear. "I am trying to treat you like a wife instead of a prisoner. I am tryi
The car pulled through the gates just after sunset.Irina sat in the backseat, her posture perfect, her hands folded in her lap. The mansion came into view through the tinted windows.She was back.The car stopped at the main entrance. The driver opened her door and she stepped out, her heels click
Killian POVThe door closed behind her.I sat alone at the table, my fork still in my hand, the food on my plate half-finished.I set the fork down. The small sound echoed in the empty room.My hands rested on the table. Flat. Still.I stared at the empty chair across from me. The chair where she'd
Third Person POVFootsteps approached down the corridor. Two sets. Marco's controlled stride and the sharper tap of a cane against marble.Killian stood at the window of his study, hands clasped behind his back. His reflection stared back from the dark glass. Calm. Composed. Still.The door opened.
Like I hadn't just broken his glass and spilled water across his table and flinched away from him like a beaten dog.I sat frozen beside him, every muscle in my body tense and waiting for the punishment that had to be coming. But he just continued eating in silence, his movements methodical and con







