The Marriage Debt (De Vos Mafia #2)(13)

I admit, it terrifies me, and I’d probably do just about anything he’d want me to so I don’t end up in there. And I know he knows. I can see it on his face. Fucker.

His tongue quickly darts out to wet his lips before he saunters to the chair in the back and sits down, facing me with his knees wide, his gaze threatening and dominant.

I swallow down the lump in my throat when he tilts his head.

“Come.”

There’s a certain gravity in his voice that’s hard to ignore.

If I defy him, he might throw me in that hole or worse…

I shiver at the thought.

I don’t think I want to find out if I don’t obey.

So I walk over to him with my head held high.

Luca taps his black pants with two fingers, the fabric straining against his half-hard dick. It doesn’t escape my notice, and I hate that I focus on it.

“Closer,” he says.

I close my eyes and sigh but still step ahead.

I know what I am to him.

A plaything.

A toy he bought in exchange for my family’s silence.

And now it’s my job to oblige.

But when I open my eyes, I want nothing more than to run far away.

“Remember this?” That same knife he used on me all those years ago is still glinting as sharp as ever as the tip pokes against his index finger.

“How could I forget?” I retort with sass. “You took something from me that wasn’t yours to take.”

He smirks in a self-indulgent way. “And I’ll keep on taking everything you have to give.” Suddenly, he jumps forward and slices through the top half of the dress, cutting through the seams far enough to make half of it drop down across my chest.

There goes the expensive wedding dress my sister probably picked by hand.

All that’s left between Luca and my naked chest is my flimsy bra.

“When is it enough?” I ask, making a fist to try to curb my emotions.

He tilts his head, toying with the knife near his cheek. “When I’m satisfied.”

That last word almost comes out in a hungry rumble, and for some reason, it makes me look at the bulge in his pants again.

Fuck.

I quickly look away again, but it’s hard when I know he noticed.

“Look at me,” he says, commanding my attention. “Do you think I’m satisfied?”

I don’t know what he wants from me or what he expects from me, but the answer is probably, “No.”

“Exactly.” He lunges forward again, cutting through the last piece of fabric so it peels away between my breasts, leaving only a small piece near the edge, covering half my nipples. And the second they become visible, his hand instantly moves to his package, adjusting it while groaning, the sound hitting me hard.

It’s been so long since I last saw him, since I last heard him speak, let alone groan.

It reminds me of the last time he kissed me when he slid open my towel and touched my freshly showered skin like it always belonged to him.

And I knew back then what I still know now … this boy brings out the worst in me.

The part I never dared to let out.

“Does it make you feel good to degrade me?” I ask, forcing myself not to look at his clearly tented pants.

“Oh, you don’t even know just how hard it makes me.”

I gulp, pushing the blush to stay at bay.

Fuck. It isn’t working.

“Bunny.”

He leans forward, tilting the knife up to meet my gaze. I shudder as he drags it along my chest down to my breasts, circling them to push the fabric aside. “You don’t wanna know how long I’ve fantasized about sucking these nipples until they’re taut.”

When he slides the knife across my peaked nipples, I say a prayer.

“To make you beg for more as I fuck your every hole,” he murmurs, grabbing my waist to pull me closer. “To make you regret you ever said no.”

When the knife punctures my skin, right between both breasts, I bite my lip to stop myself from expressing the pain. I refuse to let him see it as he refuses to take his eyes off mine, desperate to watch me fall apart.

But I won’t break for him.

Not even as he draws blood, sliding the knife around until it’s formed a heart on my chest. Blood drops roll down onto the pretty dress, staining it forever.

And all he can do is smile like the sadistic bastard he is. “Just like I promised … Your heart belongs to me.”

“You may have made me your wife, but my heart will never be yours,” I hiss in a moment of pure bravery.

His eye twitches, and the look on his face darkens. I know it’s dangerous. I can still feel the knife edging into my skin, but he won’t kill me. He wants me too much to ever try.

He grabs my wrist, forcing me closer. “I don’t need your heart if I have your body and soul,” he retorts, and he pulls my arm in such a painful way that I have to follow his lead until I’m down on the floor on my knees. “Good girls know their place.”

I spit in his face. “Fuck you.”

“No … but I will fuck you,” he groans. “And you will say ‘yes, please’ when I do, just like a good fucking wife would. You heard your father. Make me happy.”

I frown as he fists the knife while clutching the chair in a subtle threat. But I already feel the pain on my chest. I know what he’s capable of, and I’m not afraid.