Page 69 of The Red Queen

“I had your things moved to my room last night during the reception.”

Desi turned on the spot, her hand going to the neckline of her bathrobe. She was naked underneath. Vulnerable.

Giovanni was wearing his trousers from the evening before and nothing else. They were zipped and buttoned, but the belt was left hanging open. His chest and feet were bare.

Her eyes caught on a tattoo on his left pectoral. The Savino family crest; a helm sitting above a crest with a male deer and a three-leaf clover. The blues and greens of the crest were faded, but the name Savino was clear. It was the only tattoo he had. He’d told her it was a constant reminder of his responsibility to the Savino family and organization.

Now it felt like another thing telling her that her only value was in her womb.

“I want my things moved back,” she said coldly.

“No.”

He strode toward her and though she tried to back away, he reached for her, gripping her arm. He turned and pulled her toward the door. She put up a brief resistance, but ultimately followed him. She didn’t want a repeat of the night before. And as tempting as it was to go fullKill Billon his ass, she was in a house filled with men loyal to him. She wouldn’t get far if she beat up their leader and tried to run.

He released her when they were once more standing in his room.

He flung open the doors to a massive walk-in closet. “Your things.” Desi stepped forward, glancing inside. He’d given her most of the closet. Her shoes were lined up on row after row of racks at the bottom of the closet. The rest of her outfits were arranged by type and colour.

Giovanni opened another door. “The washroom.” Desi hesitated a moment, then joined him, careful not to brush him as she stood next to him looking into a beautiful and modern ensuite washroom. “You may shower before we eat,” he told her. “You have fifteen minutes.”

He walked away from her and reached for his shirt from the evening before, pulling it over his shoulders and buttoning it up the front from top to bottom. “Meet me on the patio downstairs when you’re ready.”

“Doesn’t it matter to you what I want?” she asked dully, watching him with angry eyes.

He strode back toward her, gripped her jaw in one hand and said, “Not today, Signora Savino.”

He kissed her savagely, brutally, reminding her of the night before. Then he bit her, sinking his teeth into the plumpness of her lip. She stood stiff and unmoving as he abused her.

He lifted his head, satisfaction crossing his features. He rubbed his thumb over the bite mark, and she felt wetness. He was smearing her blood over her lips.

“If you’re not more careful, I’ll mark you permanently.” His voice was husky, his gaze serious but warm.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she snarled, anger flaring hot.

His grip on her jaw tightened, and a flare of jealous anger lit his dark eyes. “Maybe not the first,bella, but I will most certainly be the last.”

They stared at each other, neither willing to back down. Finally, he released her and stepped away. “Fifteen minutes.”

He left the room without another word.

What would he do if she didn’t show up for their breakfast meeting? Have the mansion searched? Lock her away in the dungeon? It was tempting to find out, but she needed to be a good girl for now. Figure her shit out, then decide if she wanted to stab him and burn his mansion to the ground or simply disappear without a trace.

She walked into the washroom. It was an elegant room, built for relaxation, with a deep soaker tub, a large shower, and a vanity with two sinks.

She peeled the bandages off her front and back and inspected her wounds in the mirror. They were angry red puckers, but the surrounding skin was healthy and the pain was more bearable.

As she showered, Desi pondered her situation.

She was angry with Giovanni, blazingly, monstrously angry, but she couldn’t pin down exactly why. So, he wanted to use her as a brood mare. If she’d thought about it, she probably could’ve figured out his motive for bringing her to Italy. It wasn’t entirely his fault that she’d caught feelings for him, which made his intention to get her pregnant, with or without her consent, feel like a betrayal.

She was still living in a safe place, a warm, comfortable home with plenty of freedom to explore. She still had her new friends.

He’d treated her roughly the night before, taking her body and giving her none of the pleasure she’d become used to at his hands. But she’d goaded him into it. She’d forced his hand.

She let out a bitter laugh at her herself as she shut the taps off and stepped onto the bathmat, reaching for one of the fluffy white towels hanging on a nearby rack.

“Classic reasoning of the abused. I was the one who behaved badly, so I deserve what I got,” she muttered, shaking her head at herself in the mirror. “Wake up and stop letting the world kick your ass,amiga.”

---