I link my fingers behind me.
He cuts a piece of bacon and holds the fork out to me. “Open.”
I obey, and he slides the food into my mouth, watching me chew with the same intense focus he had last night. I barely taste what’s in my mouth, not with his dark eyes locked on my face.
Bite by bite, he feeds me my entire breakfast while I sit with my hands bound behind my back by nothing but his will. When I’m finished, he leans in. For one disorienting moment, I think he’s going to swipe his tongue across my lips, and I feel mine part before I can stop them?—
But he just wipes my mouth clean with his thumb.
“I want you to know,” he says, “that you’re only alive because it suits me to keep you alive. Contract or no contract. You hear me?”
Oh, yes. I hear him. I nod my head.
“Go and shower.”
“The collar?—”
“Stays on.” He settles back into his throne, coffee mug in hand. “Now go.”
I’m worried the collar will heat up, burn my skin. But I don’t have a choice, and using the toilet waswayworse than this, so I head to the shower, the chain dragging across the floor.
The water is hot at once, but as I step under the spray, I find the collar stays body-temperature on the inside, with a rubber coating to insulate my throat from the hot metal. So I relax a little and let the water wash away the sweat and fear from last night, hyperaware of Damiano’s gaze. I try to keep my back turned to him, keep my head under the water where I can pretend I’m somewhere else, anywhere else.
Maybe a nice spa in Tuscany. With significantly fewer chains and threats.
But my thoughts come back to Damiano. His behavior this morning, this whole experience, is designed to be degrading. I should be furious, terrified, anything except…
Except this. My body is responding to his attention, to being watched. To beingwanted. And he does want me. I feel it in the weight of his stare when I glance through the steamed glass.
I might be a virgin, but I still know when someone is lusting after me.
The Clemenza Family built an empire on finding people’s weaknesses and exploiting them. Damiano Orsini wants me—and not just to torture or kill. He wants to fuck me. I can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way his eyes follow the water streaming down my skin. That want is a weakness I can use.
But how do I use it when I don’t know what I’m doing?
On the other hand…how hard can it be? If Jesse Foster could manipulate some billionaire into a ten-year contract, surely I can figure it out. It’s instinct, right? Sex is instinctual. Every animal knows how to fuck, how to present itself for breeding.
I reach for the soap with trembling hands. I’ve never done this before, tried to be… Hell, I don’t even know what to call it. Appealing? I’ve spent most of my life tryingnotto be noticed. But I let my hands linger on my chest as I soap myself up, the way I’ve seen people do in movies, trying to look deliberate instead of desperate.
When I glance his way again, something has shifted in his posture. He’s leaning forward slightly. And he’s still watching.
Whatever I’m doing, it’s working.
When I finally step out and reach for a towel, Damiano’s voice stops me. “Stay there.”
He rises from his seat, setting his coffee aside, and approaches, grabbing up the towel. My heart pounds as he stands in front of me.
“Arms up.”
I raise my arms, water still streaming down my body, and he begins to towel me down. Not gentle, but thorough. He drags the towel across my chest, down my arms, around my back. And he follows the towel with his own hand, each touch entitled, possessive, like he’s making sure his prize poodle is in perfect condition.
His hands linger longer than necessary in some areas. I try to stay perfectly still, to not react, but when he moves behind me to dry my back, his palm slides over the curve of my ass—deliberate, unmistakable.
My breath catches. Blood rushes south, but the cage prevents any real response, creating a dull ache that makes me grit my teeth.
“Turn around.”
I face him again, and his eyes drop to the golden cage, noting the way it’s grown tighter. A slow smile spreads across his lips.