All Chapters of Forceful pleasures: Subjected to the Don: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Nella’s POVI stirred, blinking against the dim light of the room.The sheets were cool against my skin, but my body felt heavy — like it belonged to someone else. Giovanni sat across from me in the armchair by the window, quiet and still, elbows on his knees, watching me with that unreadable dark gaze.He was putting on a black plain tee that hung desperately to his chest, revealing his sexy abs lines.He hadn’t moved since I woke up.He hadn’t spoken.He was just… waiting.Like he knew the storm inside me hadn’t broken yet.My fingers twisted nervously in the sheets.I felt raw. Exposed.Every bruise from Lucas’s punch throbbed under the gown someone had changed me into while I was unconscious.I see both of them whenever I close my eyes. Papa and Tallia.“Giovanni…”My voice trembled — small, cracked.“I… I have questions.” I said, trying to hold eye contact but I couldn’t. His eyes were pure dark brown, almost black in dim light, yet they carried the same piercing, same unblinking

Nella’s POVThe villa’s private gym was hidden behind a heavy oak door on the lower level — a room I hadn’t even known existed until Giovanni led me down the stone staircase a few days after the cathedral attack. He had let me rest and feel a bit comfortable around the villa.The gym smelt of rubber mats and leather.High ceilings, mirrored walls on one side, padded floor, racks of weights, punching bags, and a small weapons cabinet locked behind the glass.No windows.Just recessed lights and the low hum of air conditioning.Giovanni stood in the centre of the mat wearing black athletic pants and a fitted grey tank that clung to every ridge of his muscles. His arms were bare — his tattoos curled over his biceps and shoulders like dark vines. He looked even bigger down here — 6’7” of quiet power, barefoot, and his hair still damp from a shower.I wore what he’d left for me: black leggings, a cropped sports bra, and running shoes. My stomach churned — not just from nerves, but from the

Nella’s POVI woke slowly, tangled in black silk sheets that still carried the scent of him — cedar, smoke, and something darker, like gun oil and skin after sweat.The room was quiet except for the faint tick of a clock somewhere in the hall and the soft rhythm of Giovanni’s breathing beside me.He was asleep on his back, one arm thrown over his head, the other resting across my waist like it belonged there.The sheet had slipped low on his hips, exposing the deep V of muscle that disappeared beneath the fabric, the dark trail of hair leading down, the tattoos that snaked across his chest and shoulders like a map of violence and secrets.Even in sleep, he looked dangerous — his jaw shadowed with stubble, the scar above his eyebrow stark in morning light filtering through the curtains.I stared at him for too long.My body still aches from last night — my thighs tender, core sore in the best-worst way. My lips were swollen from his kisses, and my skin marked in places only he would se

Nella’s POV“Are you ready for today’s training?” Giovanni had asked earlier this morning as I was having my breakfast.I remembered what happened during the gym lesson and my face turned pink but I tried to hide it from him.“Yes, I am,” I nodded, clearing my throat after.The training field was a ten-minute drive from the villa—far enough that the city noise disappeared, close enough that Giovanni could reach it in minutes if he needed to.It was hidden behind high stone walls topped with razor wire, a flat stretch of packed dirt and gravel ringed by thick pine trees.Targets stood at various distances: paper silhouettes, steel plates, and old tires hung from chains.Racks of rifles and handguns lined one side under a shaded canopy.A few of Giovanni’s men were already there—black tactical gear, ear protection. They looked extremely focused.They stopped when we arrived, nodding once to Giovanni, eyes flicking to me with curiosity but no questions.Giovanni parked the black SUV at t

Nella’s POVLucas was dead.I kept repeating it to myself like a prayer — or a curse.I saw his body crumple right in front of his garage every time I closed my eyes: his chest blooming red, his revolver clattering to the stone, and the light leaving his eyes before Giovanni even reached me.I had wanted him dead.I had dreamed of it.And now he was.So why did the revenge feel… hollow?Maybe it was because I wanted to kill him with my hands.“Your hands should be clean,” Giovanni had told me right before we got back to the villa.Giovanni watched me more closely than ever.He didn't hover, exactly, but he was always present: a hand on my lower back as we walked, a glass of water placed into my palm before I noticed I was thirsty, and his stare lingering on my tummy when he thought I wasn't looking.He never asked if I was okay.He just made sure I was.I hated how safe it felt.And I hated how much I hated it.It was late afternoon when my phone buzzed on the nightstand — it was a nu