Chapter 7

" Everyone out. Now!".

In less than a minute, the room that was filled with the Moretti armed men turned empty with only the small shaking figure obf Elara, buried completely by the large figure of Moretti himself, in sight.

Her back was pressed tightly against the wall, as if she was willing it to swallow her. Lorenzo hand was still on her throat, tight enough for her to feel threatened but not enough for her to feel faint.

" What's wrong, princess? Have you lost all those courage?". He mumbled against her skin.

She let out a shaky breath, feeling her skin burn red " Just kill me if you want to—

" Shhhh ". his thumb pressed down her air pipe, cutting her words and breath off " Not many attack me and still survive. But I'll keep you". He leaned in closely to her, facinatedly by how her pale skin turned brutal red at his touch " I'll like to see how that courage and hate will turn into lust for me".

Elara's eyes fluttered shut for a second, trying to block him out, but the heat of his body, the scent of blood and wine and that dark cologne, pressed in on her from every side. She felt the rough pad of his thumb slide slowly up and down the column of her throat, not choking now, just stroking, possessively, like he was petting something he already owned. Her pulse jumped under his touch, traitorously fast, and she hated how loud it sounded in her ears.

"I'd like to see how much of me you can take in your tiny throat"

Her breath hitched and an unfamiliar feeling if heat filled her from the inside.

He moved back a little and before she could guess what he was trying to do, his hand curled around her waist.

" What are you doing???". she yelled as she was suddenly picked from the floor like she weighed nothing and was flunged over his shoulder.

Elara's world tilted upside down. The room spun, blood rushing to her head, her bare feet kicking uselessly in the air. She pounded her fists against his back frantically,but it was like hitting a wall. His arm clamped tighter around her thighs, holding her steady as he strode toward the stairs.

"Put me down!" she screamed, voice cracking with sheer terror. After his last words before picking her up, she feared their destination .

Her hair fell in a wild curtain around her face, the black silk dress riding up dangerously high with every step he took.

Lorenzo didn't answer, neither did he slow down or seemed perturbed with her struggles.

The guards they passed in the hallway didn't bat an eyelid at the scene. It was as if carrying a struggling woman over his shoulder was the most normal thing in the world.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, his grip never loosening, his breathing even and controlled. Elara felt every shift of muscle under her palms, every rise and fall of his shoulders. The heat of him seeped through her dress, burning her skin where it touched.

When they reached the bedroom door, he kicked it open without breaking stride.

The bed loomed large and black, sheets still rumpled from earlier. He walked straight to it and dropped her onto the mattress.

She landed with a soft bounce, scrambling backward on her elbows, chest heaving. Her dress had ridden up her hips, exposing far too much thigh. She yanked it down instinctively, heart slamming against her ribs.

Lorenzo stood at the foot of the bed, watching her. Blood still streaked his temple, drying in dark rivulets down his jaw, but he looked utterly unbothered. If anything, the violence made him look more dangerous—more alive.

He reached behind him and locked the door with a soft, final click, making Elara stomach dropp.

"W-w-what are you doing?". she had her back pressed to the headboard, warily watching him as he took slow approaching steps towards her.

" I thought we're still playing a game, princess. Or do you want to call quits already".

" You're sick if you think — ah". his cold hand grabbed her feet and before she could try to fight him off, he yanked her from her position to the middle of the bed.

A cold iron fastened on her left ankle, holding her in place.

Her heart hammered against her chest when she realized what he was trying to do and she started kicking with her free leg but...

Lorenzo caught her kicking ankle mid-air with infuriating ease, fingers wrapping around it like a manacle. The cold metal of the second cuff snapped shut before she could even draw another breath to scream.

Now both ankles were secured to the bottom posts of the bed, legs spread just enough to make modesty impossible. The black dress bunched uselessly around her waist, leaving pale thighs trembling against the dark sheets.

Elara’s chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked bursts. She jerked against the restraints, trying to shift her gown down with her hand but failed terribly.

She was completely bared to him. At his mercy.

Lorenzo straightened, towering over the foot of the bed. He tilted his head, studying her like she was a fine art piece he was contemplating to buy or not.

“Better,” he murmured, voice low and rough with satisfaction.

He shrugged out of his ruined suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor without ceremony.

Elara swallowed hard. “You’re not… you’re not really going to—”

“Rape you?” He finished the sentence for her, the word blunt and ugly in his mouth. He climbed onto the bed, one knee sinking into the mattress between her bound legs. “No, princess. I don't take women without their consent. You'll beg for it.”

He leaned over her, caging her with his arms braced on either side of her head. His face hovered inches above hers. She could smell the copper tang of blood mixed with that dark, expensive cologne and the faint burn of whiskey still clinging to him.

Her hands flew up instinctively, shoving at his chest. It was like pushing granite.

Lorenzo caught both her wrists in one massive hand and pinned them above her head against the headboard. The position arched her back, forced her breasts up against the thin dress, her nipples traitorously tight beneath the fabric.

“Look at me,” he ordered softly.

She squeezed her eyes shut instead.

His free hand slid down, slow and unhurried—over her neck , trailing down to the top of her breast. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“I can almost hear your heart racing” he said, almost conversationally. His thumb drew a lazy circle. “Scared?” A pause. “Or something else?”

“Fuck you,” she hissed, but the words came out shakingly at the sharp pinch he gave her nipples.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her bones “That’s the plan.”

His hand drifted lower.

Elara bucked, hips jerking uselessly against the restraints. “Don’t—”

His fingers paused at the edge of her lace underwear, tracing the delicate edge without dipping beneath.

“Should I continue, Princessa?” hismid finger settled in her center " You're soaked for me already".

Heat flooded her face, shame and fury twisting together until she couldn’t tell them apart. “That’s not— I’m not—”

“Liar.” He pressed the heel of his palm against her mound, firm enough that she gasped. The pressure sent an unwanted spark racing up her spine. “Your body doesn’t lie, Elara. It’s screaming for me.”

She turned her face away, teeth sinking into her bottom lip hard enough to taste blood.

Lorenzo leaned down until his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “I’m going to ruin you for your father. ” he whispered. “Then I'll take everything that is so precious away from him one after the other.”