Page 49 of One Savage Union

I’m not the kind of woman men chase. I am the woman that men overlook. I'm pretty enough, but I've always been a nerd. I like classical literature. I collect vintage jewelry and converse with older people about their past experiences. History fascinates me, and the future scares me. I'll take a good New York-style pizza over a lobster dinner any day. I'm proud of my hair, but the maintenance of it doesn't consume me. Makeup is only a necessity of performance life, and I can't remember the last time I went shopping on purpose. Point being, I'm not your typical woman, and most men don’t know how to approach me. So, they don’t.

Before I was kidnapped, I was comfortable in my obscurity. I never had to fend off unwanted advances or figure out how to deal with the ones who wanted me. The opposite sex is a mystery. The only reason I allowed my college boyfriend to take my virginity was to get the ritual over with. Now, for reasons I’ll never understand, I have a husband who's a walking sexual innuendo, and I’m out of my depth.

He demands all of me, but I can't trust him. I feel like holding back this one thing is keeping him in check. I know it's wild. He’s already fucked me and the man could take it anytime he wants. But, he told me he wouldn’t, and I believe him. That makes me respect him just a little.

I skim over the price tags of everything laid out for me and soft gag. The amount of money the man spends on clothing is ludicrous.

After tying the laces of the $800 hiking boots Maria laid out for me, I’m ready for my first date with my husband. I walk over to the mirror and glance at the Lululemon workout pants, matching sports bra, and jacket. Everything is brand new, and the tags were still attached before I put the items on. This entire outfit costs more than $ 1,500. The way he throws money away is shocking, but I do like knowing he prepared these things just for me.

When I make it downstairs, I'm happy to see that his back is to me as he whispers harshly with Mario about something. It gives me a few minutes to appreciate him in all his glory. His ass looks especially delicious in the workout pants he's wearing. I never knew close-fitting dri-fit fabric could look so good on a man.

Sensing my presence, he turns around and catches me salivating like a creeper. The right side of this mouth lifts in a smirk;he's so full of himself.I'm not helping to deflate his ego by staring at him like some lunatic.

“Sorry to interrupt, but are we ready to go?”

Rocco throws me a quick smile and gestures for me to head outside before turning back to Enzo and Mario. It seems he needs to finish that conversation before we go anywhere, and he doesn’t want me to hear it.

That pisses me off.

Ever since we got here, Rocco has been on edge. He’s always sneaking off with those two to meet and whisper in corners of the house. Seeing as those clandestine meet-and-greets likely concern me, their sneaking around makes me anxious and leaves me in the dark. No one tells me anything.

Rocco treats me like a child, Mario treats me with disdain, while Enzo ignores my very existence. The most I’ve gotten out of him is a grunt.

From my observations, Enzo is the quietest member of their group. I overheard the servants refer to him as a tech genius. He’s over surveillance and security. If something has a passcode, he can hack it. Enzo is sharp and ruthless, looking like a sexy Clark Kent wannabe with his thick, dark curls, chiseled jaw, Prada frames, and tall frame. His hazel eyes blaze with a fiery orange and dance with a never-ending curiosity.

He’s got an aura of wildness that floats off him, and it’s clear that he’s the most unpredictable. I imagine he has oceans of blood on his hands. I have no doubt that he knows what's really going on and could get me in contact with my father. But that's never going to happen if Enzo won’t even acknowledge me, let alone talk.

All I know is that whatever made Rocco leave our bed on such short notice must be essential, and I wonder if it has anything to do with Leo or my father.

If it were the latter, I think I would know. After all, I'm being used as leverage to secure an alliance with him. If they had contact with him, I’m sure I would know by now. Rocco promised he would let me know the moment my father makes any positive contact. He’s many things, but he doesn’t strike me as a man who breaks his promises.

That leads me to believe it’s Leo causing the turmoil. Which makes me think about my safety and how vulnerable my position is. I just wish we could find my father already andplan our attack on Leo. The sooner I’m out from under Rocco’s thumb, the sooner I can try to negotiate parts of my life back.

I track Rocco's movements through the door windows. When he dismisses Mario and Enzo, he walks out and plants a kiss on my forehead.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Lucia. We have a forty-five-minute drive from Ravello to the starting point of our hike, a little hamlet named Bomerano. We’ll end in Positano, where we have reservations for dinner.

I arch my eyebrows in surprise. “You expect me to be dinner-ready after a hike? I’ll be a sweaty mess and not dressed for any of the ritzy restaurants I‘m sure you frequent.”

He laughs. “You should know by now that I plan for every inevitability. I have already secured a suite for us at my favorite hotel, Le Sirenuse. We will make a pit stop there before we head to dinner.”

When I land on the bottom step, Rocco twirls a curl of my hair in his fingers while he leans in close. “Then I can have dessert before dinner in our hillside, sea-view suite. As you already know, you are my favorite meal accompaniment.”

I swallow, knowing I’m likely a blushing mess. Why does he always have to talk so dirty? It keeps me hot, bothered, and confused. Now all I can think about is that skillful tongue of his licking my pussy with expert stroke.

Clearing my throat, I attempt to change the subject. “Exactly how long will this hike take us? I’m not exactly in athletic shape, you know?”

I graze over his athletic form and inwardly grimace at my lack of discipline. I’ve never had body issues, but I’m not a little girl. I have ass and hips for days. Whenever Rocco returns from a workout shirtless, or strips before entering our bed at night I suck my stomach in a bit tighter wondering if my body appeals to him. I can’t help but think that this is all about convenience,rather than actual desire. He would never approach me on the streets of Chicago for a date of any kind.

Sensing my unease with his usual keenness, he places his finger beneath my chin and tilts my head up into his gaze. “Soon, I will know your body better than you do. I already know how to make you come on my fingers and tongue with minimal effort. You are a goddess, and your body is a temple that I plan to worship often. You need to own it, push it, and love it. I never want you to compare yourself to me or anyone else. I want you to be comfortable in the skin you’re in. That starts with this hike. It will push you, but you’ll be better for it.”

How does he do that? How does he peel back all my layers and tear down all the walls I erect to keep myself safe from not just him, but the world? This marriage is a fucking disaster, but I'm determined to make it out alive and return to my life, my music, and my goals. I know I’ll never play the piano professionally again if I fall for Rocco and lose my will to escape from him, my father, and everything the mafia traps you with. Shaking off his touch, I look him square in the eye.

“All that may be true, but how long is this hike going to take? I’d like to mentally prepare. I like the outdoors, but only at my own pace.”

He chuckles, “At the pace we’re tackling the mountain, la mia piccola palla di fuoco, it should only take us approximately three hours, give or take a few minutes. However, since we’ll be making pit stops along the way, we'll be out on the mountain for a total of five or six hours. We will be in our suite by seven. Dinner reservations are at nine.”

With his hand at the small of my back, I nod and allow him to push me towards the waiting SUV.

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