Rage.
Because right or wrong—-
Sarica needed to pay for forgetting she belonged to him.
AN ELEVATOR RIDE TOa secret floor.
And at the end of the hallway, a luxurious room that was now a cage.
Hercage.
He stood in the doorway, his gaze brooding as he surveyed his prisoner.
Sarica.
Her posture was rigid with tension, her hands cuffed behind her back. The blindfold over her eyes was stark against her pale skin, and her violet hair fell in disheveled waves around her shoulders. She was still wearing the outfit she had been taken in—-a tight-fitted dark shirt that clung to the swell of her breasts, which were now noticeably and rapidly heaving.
Giancarlo had convinced himself three nights ago that keeping her trapped was for her protection. But that was a lie, of course. After finding out what she had been up to in the past three months?
Giancarlo knew she was scared, but he could not make himself regret this.
Hewantedher scared.
Because fear would help Sarica remember the lesson he didn't want her to forget again.
She belonged to him.
And him alone.
Always.
He stepped into the room, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick rug. Sarica’s head snapped up at the noise, her body stiffening. She tilted her head as if trying to discern his presence. She was completely at his mercy, and a thrill of power rushed through his bloodstream at the knowledge.
He reached for her, his touch making Sarica flinch. She tried to recoil away but he gave her no chance to escape. Giancarlo pulled her to his feet, and even as guilt slashed at his conscience—-
I need you to remember you're mine, dolcezza.
He cupped her face in his hands and crushed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was fierce and desperate, a clash of teeth and tongues that left no room for gentleness. He only meant to punish her with a single kiss, but then something changed.
And his world turned upside down—-
Per che, dolcezza?
—-the moment she started kissing him back.
No. No. No.
He hated her for wanting him.
But at the same time, feeling her hunger for him fed his own desire.
Her lips were soft and yielding, and the taste of her intoxicating. Giancarlo groaned, his hands sliding down to her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
She started grinding her mound against him, and it was the last straw.
He carried her to the bed.
