Page 26 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

“I’m not showering.”

Her narrow-eyed determination thickens mycock. Jesus. This girl. Was she sent to Earth to defy us? To teach us some kindof lesson. Whatever the lesson, my skull is too thick to recognize it.

“Either you go of your own free will, or I’lltake you. Do you understand?”

She grits her teeth and turns away again.Frustration surges, and before she has a chance to prepare, I throw off thecomforter and scoop her into my arms. She writhes and twists, flailing herarms, but I pin her to me and haul her into the bathroom. Once inside, I lowerher feet to the floor but keep her anchored against me, her back to my front,freeing a hand to flip on the shower. She fights, but she’s so small and weakthat it doesn’t even register, which only seems to make her angrier.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” she growls asher ass grinds into my dick. Even like this, feral and vicious, she’s gloriousenough to make me hard.

I wrap my free hand around her neck and pressher head tightly against my chest. “Look in the mirror,” I hiss in her ear. “Lookat yourself.”

She does, her eyes wide. Her hair has twistedinto wild locks, making her appear as fierce and deadly as Medusa.

“Understand,gattina, that you will not winthis fight. Any strategy you come up with in your pretty little head won’twork. We hold all the cards, and you hold none.”

She burns with resistance, her body vibratingagainst my hold. I walk forward to push her into the shower, but she fights me,trying to gain traction against the slick floor. She’s wild and fearless, aforce of nature, everything I thought I’d never want in a woman, but find Ideeply respect. Even against all odds, she’s trying.

I could shove her under the water, but I don’twant to hurt her. If she slips, she could bust up her face or break something.Instead, Itoeoff my shoes and force us both beneaththe streaming water. The shock makes her still and she whips her head to lookat me. Water cascades down my face, flattening my short hair and soaking mysweater. She closes her eyes, tipping her face upward, arching her slender neckso her head rests just below my shoulder. She’s breathing fast, like a rabbitthat’s been chased across the fields by a vicious fox, and I close my eyes,hating what we’re doing to her. This isn’t right. She doesn’t deserve this.Every second she’s under our roof will change her, and she’ll never be thesame. Sickness gathers beneath my diaphragm, driven by shame.

The end doesn’t always justify the means. Justbecause this is the easiest way to get to Carlo fuckingLambretti,doesn’t mean we should take it.

She swallows against my palm and shudders, andI move my hand to wrap it around her chest instead. I curve my body over hers,wanting her to feel an embrace rather than restraint. “It’s okay,” I tell her,surprising myself but not enough to stop. “It’s okay, Aemelia. It’ll be okay.”

Her body hitches, and I can sense her weepingbefore she makes a sound. I thought my heart was dead, but still, it seems tofracture and bleed for her.

I’m losing my fucking mind, but I can’t helphow I feel.

I loved Mario, and avenging his death isn’t upfor debate, but it doesn’t have to involve torturing this poor girl.

Turning her in my arms, I press my hand to theside of her head, so her face rests over my heart. It beats a rapid rhythm as Istroke her wet, tangled hair. The sound of her sorrow cuts my soul until Ican’t take it anymore. Grasping her face between my hands, I force her to lookat me.

I swipe tears and shower water from beneathher eyes. Her eyelashes are coated with droplets like diamonds that glint inthe bright light of the bathroom. Her nightgown clings to her form, almosttransparent now that it’s wet through, and my body sparks into an inferno.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” I tellher. It’s stupid. It goes against everything that Luca and Alexis want andexpect from me. It goes against everything I’ve come to expect from myself, butthis woman is an infestation that’s crawled under my skin and changed me.

“You’re holding me captive, Antonio. You’vethreatened me with violence.”

“I do what I have to do,” I say. “I do what’sexpected of me.”

She blinks, her hands settling on my chest.She nods as though I’ve confessed something she understands. We don’t know muchabout Aemelia except her family relies on her for money. She was a waitress,doing what she had to do, doing what’s expected of her. Maybe, in some smallway, she understands.

I let my thumb trace her lips, wiping away thewater and her tears and she closes her eyes. Like this, with her armor washedaway, she’s transcendent.

It isn’t fair that we’ve met like this, forcedtogether to dance in the underworld. I think of the story of Hades and how heloved Persephone so desperately that he took her from the light and forced herto live with him in hell. Neither of us chose to be born into families withblood on their hands. We didn’t choose this life, it chose us, and yet we haveto suffer.

“Aemelia,” I whisper.

“Gattina,” she reminds me, staring into my eyes, this timewith a soft challenge. Her fingers drift to my neck to trace the sharp tattoothere. All around us, the steam swirls until I forget we’re in the penthouse,and I forget why we’re standing together in the shower, fully clothed.

I want to kiss her like I’ve never wanted tokiss anyone before. It’s a curse, a desire so thick, it’s impossible to wadethrough. I shake with it down to the pit of my rotten soul, and I have to lowermy eyes, afraid she’ll notice my torment.

When her lips press against mine, I believe atfirst that this whole thing is just a dream. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’ma jagged block of granite being caressed by the cool Sicilian breeze. But thenher lips move, soft and coaxing, and I’m molten lava, pressing into her, slowlybacking her against the tiled wall, finding my way inside the heat of her mouthand dying slowly with every side of our tongues.

She’s sweeter thanPignolatadi Miele, more tantalizing than amphetamines. My consciousnessdances like a prisoner freed after a life sentence. I slide my hands from herface, down her neck and lower, gipping her tiny waist, surging forward sothere’s no space between us. She moans into my mouth, her hands fisting mysweater like she’s afraid I’ll pull away.

But I can’t. Threats from the devil himselfcouldn’t drag me from her. I could drown in her and die a happy man.

My conscience prickles—this is wrong, sowrong. I’m almost twice her age, but I’m used to pushing aside any desire to bea good man. The last time I saw her she was a little girl. I shouldn’t want herlike this. But still, I kiss down her throat, across her collarbone, tastingher skin and the water coating us both, nipping her with my teeth, holding herstill with the tight grip of my killer's hands.

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