Page 61 of Deal with the Devil
My name on his lips is both a caress and a threat. I back against the door, heart hammering against my ribcage.
“Isn’t it obvious? You already know it was my sister. She doesn't know where I am. She's been worried?—”
“Your sister.” He stops mere inches from me, close enough that I catch a couple of the clean notes of his cologne—it reminds me of soap and cotton mixed with leather, an expensive scent that makes my head spin. “Is not your concern anymore.”
“She’s mysister. She’s my family. She’ll always be my concern!”
“You have been told the rules. No contact with the outside world. No attempts to escape. No phones.” He punctuates each word with another step closer until I'm trapped between his body and the door. “First you tried to escape. Now you’ve tried placing calls on the phone. Do you know what happens when you break the rules?”
My mind flashes to the other night in the guesthouse, where I’d come across Rafael’s room of obsession and infatuation.
It’s been days, yet I can still feel the kiss he gave me. My lips tingle even at the memory.
“The least you can do is let me speak to my sister. Just… just so I can let her know I’m okay and she can tell our par?—”
“You broke the rule,” he says over me. “It doesn’t matter why, dolcezza. It doesn’t matter how or with who. All that matters is that you broke it.”
“What are you going to do?" I lift my chin, meeting his gaze with more courage than I feel. “Kill me? Isn’t that what you and the don are already plotting? A way to eliminate me without the American media finding out and things getting too messy?”
Fury flashes in his eyes. Anger mixed with a darker, hungrier emotion. He looms closer, holding my gaze to unnerving effect.
“No dolcezza. I'm not going to kill you. Not tonight. But Iamgoing to teach you what happens when you disobey me."
Before I can react, his hands are on my waist, easily lifting me off my feet and carrying me to the leather, throne-like chair by his desk. I struggle against his viselike grip, his strength overwhelming.
“What do you think you’re—LET GO OF ME!”
I try to twist away as he sits down, but it’s useless as he pulls me down firmly over his lap. One large hand presses against my lower back to keep me in place, holding me down where I am.
“The more you fight, the worse this will be for you. The more humiliating I can make this.” His voice has dropped to a gravelly whisper that sends unwanted heat pooling low in my belly.
I squirm in his lap, legs kicking out. “Please?—”
“Silence! You’ve said enough. From now on, you speak when spoken to, dolcezza. This isn’t a treat for you; this is punishment.”
My eyes go wide at the clang of his belt buckle, then fast whoosh of the leather being yanked through the loops on his pants.
“Wait,” I gasp. “You can’t seriously be about to—oh!”
The little yelp of surprise tumbles out of me as he slams his palm into my ass.
A warning shot if there ever was one.
It’s a hard smack, one that makes my spine go straight. I squirm all over again in his lap like some piglet about to be led to slaughter.
But Il Diavolo remains unfazed. In fact, the more I do struggle, the firmer his grip becomes. The more resolute the energy he gives off is.
“You made your choice when you dialed the number on that phone. Now you deal with the consequences. Every time you sit down over the next couple days, you will think of what you did wrong. You will squirm in your seat on your beautiful plump sore ass, and you’ll remember me.”
“No!” I squeal.
“Yes!” he growls, flipping over the dress I’m wearing and exposing my bare ass. He palms the curve of it for a second like he can’t help himself.
My eyes squeeze shut at his touch.
The heat burning inside me spreads, flushing onto my brown skin. But I fight back against it, reminding myself again and again this isn’t Rafael.
This is Il Diavolo.
