"You aremine now, little bird," I whisper against her skin. "There is no Ohio. There is no flower shop. There is only me. Get used to the cage."
I pull away before I can change my mind, before the animal inside me breaks the leash and tears her clothes off. I turn my back on her, walk to the heavy oak door, my cock still throbbing with a punishing ache. I punch in the nine-digit biometric code, the keypad chirping a low, electronic confirmation. I step out,the magnetic locks engaging with a heavy, pressurized thud that seals her in my vacuum. She is behind four inches of reinforced wood and a biometric deadbolt. She is exactly where she belongs.
The click of the deadbolt echoes in the quiet hallway. I lean back against the heavy wood, closing my eyes, drawing in a long, ragged breath. My entire body aches. My blood is boiling. My pulse is hammering against my temples with a frantic, lethal rhythm.
I have spent twenty years building an empire out of ashes and blood. I have prepared for every contingency, calculated every risk, anticipated every betrayal. But standing in this hallway, with the taste of copper curls and honey still burning on my tongue, I realize the terrifying truth.
The Bellantis don't have to fire a single bullet to destroy me. They just have to touch the woman on the other side of this door.
5
Sienna
I weara track into the Persian rug at the foot of his massive bed.
The heavy black silk of the robe he forced on me clings to my sweat-dampened skin, the dark fabric dragging against my bare thighs with every agitated step. It is the shade of his world, the ink he used to overwrite my reality. The air in the room is suffocating, thick with the dozen peonies blooming violently from the crystal vase on the nightstand, layered over the sharp, masculine scent of cedar and gunpowder that clings to every piece of furniture in this fortified suite.
He told me to rest. The lock on the heavy oak door had clicked shut with the finality of a prison cell, leaving me entirely alone in his space.
Rest is out of the question. My pulse hammers a frantic, bruising rhythm against my ribs. My lips are still swollen, still throbbing from the brutal, claiming pressure of his mouth. Every time I close my eyes, I don't see the dark kitchen of L'Ombra. I don't see the blood on the plastic or the broken men on the floor. I see the absolute, terrifying clarity in Dominic Costa's dark eyeswhen he pushed me against the wall and told me he had been watching me.
My lungs hitch. I pause by the massive, bulletproof window overlooking the Gold Coast. The city of Chicago glitters below, ignorant of the fact that I have been entirely erased from it. My flower shop, my rent, my clients—he dismantled it all. He dismantled my existence to sever my ties, wrapping me in silk and expensive hand cream so I wouldn't notice the cage.
The heavy thud of the deadbolt sliding open hits my ears like a gunshot.
I spin around, my bare feet gripping the intricate weave of the rug. The door swings inward, and Dominic fills the frame. He is a wall of bespoke tailoring and lethal intent, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the jambs. The silver at his temples catches the dim amber light of the hallway before he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. The lock engages again with a deafening click.
He goes utterly rigid. He just looks at me. His dark eyes trace the length of my body, lingering on the deep V of the silk robe where it parts across my chest, dropping to the bare stretch of my legs, and finally rising to meet my stare. The air in the room instantly grows heavy, the shifting pressure compressing my lungs until I have to part my lips to drag in oxygen.
"I told you to sleep, Sienna," he says. His voice is a low, grating rasp, rougher than it was twenty minutes ago.
"I'm not a dog you can command," I snap back, the anger a desperately needed shield against the sudden, heavy throbbing between my thighs. "And I'm not a piece of property you can just file away in a bedroom while you run your empire."
Dominic begins to walk toward me. His movements are deliberate, predatory. The grace of a man who has spent twenty years orchestrating violence and survival. He stops three feet away, close enough that the heat radiating from his large frame washes over me.
"You aren't property," he murmurs, his hands rising to the knot of his silk tie. He pulls it loose with a single, sharp tug. "You are mine. There is a difference."
"You don't know me!" My voice cracks, betraying the panic I'm trying to swallow. "You watched me from some camera feed. That isn't knowing someone, Dominic."
His fingers pause on the top button of his dress shirt. The use of his first name hangs in the space between us, raw and entirely too intimate. A muscle leaps along his hard jawline.
"I know that you get to your shop at exactly five-forty-five every morning," he says, his voice dropping an octave, slipping into a register that vibrates directly against my bones. "I know that you unlock the back door first, not the front. I know that you hum when you cut the thorns off the roses, and that you chew on the inside of your bottom lip when you're calculating your invoices." He steps closer, entirely eclipsing my field of vision. "I know that you drink your coffee black because you can't afford milk, and that your hands are always bleeding because you refuse to wear gloves."
My stomach drops. I take a step back, but the heavy oak windowsill bites into my lower back. I am trapped.
Dominic closes the final gap. He hasn't touched me yet. He simply cages me in, planting his large hands on the windowsill on either side of my hips. He leans down, his face inches frommine. "I know exactly who you are, Sienna. I have studied every breath you take. And I knew the moment I saw you in that hallway, dropping that vase, that I was never letting you walk out."
"You're a monster," I whisper, staring up at the harsh, handsome lines of his face. At forty-five, violence lives in the deep grooves around his mouth and the cold calculation in his eyes.
"I am," he agrees without a fraction of hesitation. "And right now, this monster is entirely at your mercy. Because if I don't touch you in the next ten seconds, I am going to tear this room apart."
The sheer gravity of his confession shatters the last of my resistance. My body completely betrays my mind. A heavy, pooling heat settles low in my pelvis, an involuntary biological response to the absolute, unwavering obsession in his gaze. I don't want to run. God help me, I want to be caught.
I lift my hands, my cold fingers coming to rest against the center of his chest. I can feel the erratic, heavy thud of his heart through the crisp cotton of his shirt. It mirrors my own.
"Then touch me," I breathe, the words escaping before I can stop them.
A low, guttural groan rips from his throat. Dominic's hands snap from the windowsill, gripping my hips with bruising force. He lifts me entirely off the ground. My gasp is swallowed by his mouth as he crushes his lips to mine.
