Page 73 of Savage Enemy

What else could I say?

Most of the bruises were from the first night after I told Aris to go fuck himself—he came back to my room a few hours after Marco left to have his fun.

The burn, though, was fresh.

Aris’s work again. I’d refused to help him iron his shirt, and his explosive reaction included literally ironing my leg instead of his shirt. Thankfully, the iron hadn’t reached full heat, so the burn wouldn’t leave a lasting mark.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t painful.

Stefano seemed unable to look away from my torso, but honestly, that one looked worse than it felt. A bruised ribcage, courtesy of Saul.

He’d hit me with his fist, two quick jabs to the same spot, because I had the audacity to ask what would happen if the Russians didn’t want me.

Saul’s wordless message had been perfectly clear.

If the Russians refused me, if I couldn’t entice a suitable replacement, the bruises covering my ribs would cover every part of my body.

The threat didn’t really matter. I was certain if I went with the Russians, or any other man Saul deemed acceptable, bruises would eventually cover my body anyway.

A low growl rumbled in Stefano’s throat as he studied me.

“Who touched you?” he asked again.

I pushed him toward the stall door.

“Stefano, please. I need you to leave. Go home and raise our son to be better than this.” I gestured at my body. “Please. He needs his father to guide him. You’re so strong. Show him how to rise above all this.”

I picked up my dress, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Our son also needs his mother,” Stefano said.

Faster than I could track his movements, he grabbed my hand, forced me to drop the dress, and kissed me again, the taste of sweet champagne and dominance on his tongue.

Every time Stefano touched me, kissed me, looked at me for too long, my heart thrummed, my head spun, and my soul and my body ached for him. I craved this man like a drug.

“I need to hear you say it,” he said against my lips.

Bunching his crisp shirt fabric, I gripped it with my fists, wanting to get lost in the undeniable pull between us.

“What do you want me to say?”

I began working on the buttons of his shirt. I didn’t want it unbuttoned because I planned to fuck him next to a toilet, but because I needed to feel his skin. To lay my face on his chest. To feel his warmth on my cheek. To hear his heart beating vigorously in his chest.

“Say you’re mine,” he breathed onto my neck.

“But I’m not.”

My heart clenched around the truth behind my words.

Stefano slid his hand down and rolled my nipple between his fingers, creating a little sting. The good kind of sting.

“Say it.”

“No. I can’tsay it. I wantto, but it’s… saying it hurts too much. The lie physically hurts me.”

He swept his fingers down to softly trace over my ribcage and my waist. He pressed his erection against my stomach, nipping my skin and leaving sweet kisses on my neck.

“Say it,” he demanded.

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