Page 19 of One Savage Union

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a grimace. “Because family is family. And orders are orders, no matter how much I despise him. Plus, it would make the family look weak if we had to take out Don’s son for betrayal. He will get his in due time.”

Rocco squeezes my hand. “But if he ever touches you, I’ll kill him myself.”

His words shouldn’t comfort me, but they do. And that terrifies me more than anything.

His vulnerability disappears as quickly as it came, but I’ve seen enough. I hold on to the tiny victory as he grabs my right hand and leads me further into the room. It resembles a swanky lounge with leather couches, low lighting, and a gilded crate in the corner.

A crate? What the hell is this man planning?

He gestures for me to follow, but I hold my ground.

“Lucia! Don’t make me ask again.” His voice booms, sending a shiver down my spine.

I sigh dramatically, my chin lifted in defiance, and take slow, deliberate steps toward him. If he demands obedience, I’ll make him work for it. As I approach, his gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my face, my hair, the curve of my shoulders. His hunger is practically palpable, like a storm building between us.

He sits on the sofa, and part of me wants to run. But I know I wouldn’t get far. I’ll have to bide my time and play with this madman. His eyes arrest me as he continues.

When I’m close enough, he grabs me by the waist and drops me unceremoniously over his knees. My head hangs precariously close to the floor, and I freeze.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shout, thrashing against his hold.

“Punishing you,” he says with a maddening calmness. “You’ll thank me later.”

6

LUCIA

Once I realize his intentions, I fight like hell. "Let me up, you asshole; what are you doing?"

"Tsk tsk tsk, language, piccolo ragazza. You're making my blood heat, and that's not good for what we have ahead of us. Now, I will bare your bottom and give twenty strikes to your beautiful ass as punishment. Then we are going upstairs to meet my capo, Mario, and a judge to get married. There’s no need to argue, as it has already been done. And if you say one more word, I will gag you with your panties while you deal with your punishment."

I thrash wildly, but he places one leg over both of mine, locking me in place—my heart pounds. No one has ever spanked me, ever. Not even my father when I was a child, because the bastard wasn't around. I can’t breathe.

"Shhhhh," Rocco leans over, his breath warm against my ear, sending a dangerous shiver down my spine.

"Calm down; you will survive this. Just like you will survive everything else coming your way now that you are known as Ricci's hidden principessa, take my hand to your ass with grace,a punishment you've earned. When it's done, we can wipe the slate clean, get married, and you can learn how to wield the power you hold."

If only he knew how powerless I felt.

Nothing about my life was ever by my design. My mother planned my musical career. And now, I’m being forced to marry a monster. I suck in a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts.

"And if I refuse?"

I feel Rocco shrug. "Then I will let you go, and you can deal with Leonardo and his hounds alone. I promise you won't last twelve hours. He knows you're missing by now, which will only intensify his search. Your father has no idea what's happening or that you even know who he is. I hate him for a myriad of reasons and would prefer to kill him. But I have to push all that aside and do things I don’t like to protect our family; that includes keeping you alive. Matteo can't protect you from Leo, and even if he could, would he? The man hasn't contacted you in twenty-four years."

His words hurt, tearing open an old wound I’ve kept buried. Longing. Rejection. I longed for a father, but he never came. He never searched for me. My mother never discussed him, and I assumed the worst. But that didn’t stop me from wanting him. Every little girl wants her daddy. I was no different. The tears that fall now are no longer out of fear—I hate Rocco Fieri for making me feel this way. I also fear him because he’s my father’s enemy.

How can I trust that he’ll keep me—his enemy’s only daughter—safe?

I whimper as he strokes my ass gently, his touch igniting something I refuse to acknowledge. My body betrays me, my breath catching as warmth spreads through my core. Though harsh, his voice wraps around me like a possessive embrace.

"I can take care of you, Lucia, but only if you obey me. I will not tolerate insubordination or reckless behavior. You must learn to control your emotions, or this life will eat you alive."

Would he let me go? Do I even want to test that theory? A part of me already knows the answer.

I don’t tell him about the note that arrived at my home before he and his goons arrived.

I don’t tell him that I’ve felt eyes on me since my mother died. Was it Leo? Or Rocco?

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