Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I look around and realize the reason for Ulysses’s reaction too late. Dante is stalking toward me with long, angry steps. I break into a run, not caring who sees him chasing me through the hotel, but he’s too fast. He scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing more than a feather pillow.
“Watch Noah,” Dante instructs Ulysses in a cold, hard voice.
I slam my fists on his back. “Put me down.”
He holds me around the back of my knees and opens the door with his free hand. People stare at us as he stalks through the lobby. They gawk until the elevator doors close on us.
“Put me down,” I demand again.
Dante doesn’t listen. He acts as if I haven’t spoken, carrying me past Reino through the quiet suite to the bedroom. Once inside, he kicks the door shut and locks it.
“Dante.”
He walks to the foot-end of the bed. “It’s too late for that, darling.” Taking his phone from his pocket, he leaves it on the nightstand.
My voice is choked. “Too late for what?”
He throws me onto the mattress and flips me onto my stomach. “Too late for begging.”
I turn my face to the side so I don’t smother in the covers. “I’m not begging.”
He straddles me. “You will.”
Panic gets the better of me. “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”
He stretches my hands above my head and keeps them pinned to the bed in one hand while untying the scarf from my neck with the other.
“Dante,” I shriek as he ties my wrists with the scarf. “What are you doing?”
“That was the second time you disrespected me with a vulgar gesture. I was lenient the first time because you were in shock.”
He reaches around me and unfastens the button of my waistband. I kick when he pulls down my zipper.
“Keep still.” His voice is clipped. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”
I do as he says not because I’m obeying him but because I’m unable to move. I’m frozen in horror as a scene I banned from my memories starts to bleed into my conscience. Slowly, a picture crawls closer, stalking me like a horrible, deformed monster in a dark, deserted alley. I hide my face in the covers, but it keeps on coming, its presence like a thick black fog that spills into every crack and crevice of my being.
My jeans slip down my ass, thighs, calves, and feet. The glide of the fabric over my skin is treacherously soft. My underwear follows next. I’m naked from the waist down, panting into the duvet. I try to focus on my breathing, but the technique the midwife taught me doesn’t help, not for the old skeletons that threaten to escape from the closet where I buried them.
I’m violently seized from the paralyzing fear when Dante grips the hem of my T-shirt. A different fear takes over. My heartbeat goes into overdrive. The panic escalates, suffocating me. Even as my lungs shut down and my air runs out, self-preservation outweighs my need for oxygen.
“No.” I kick with my feet, realizing I can’t move my legs. I turn my face sideways and strain my neck to look over my shoulder. Dante is still straddling me. “Not…” I gulp in air that doesn’t reach my lungs. “Not…the T-shirt.”
He stills, the fabric bunched in his fists. “Breathe, Tatiana.”
I can’t. I can’t stop my body from turning on me. My mind is useless, the will to breathe not enough.
“Easy.” Dante lets my T-shirt go and gets off my legs. He kneels next to me. His words are encouraging, and his hands are soft but firm on my shoulders. “You can do it.”
My pulse doesn’t slow down, but my lungs finally cooperate. I suck in air and choke on my mortification. I don’t want anyone to see this part of me, especially not Dante.
He sits back on his heels, scrutinizing me with too much intensity. “What the fuck just happened?”
My reply is rushed. “Nothing.”
He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t challenge me. “What did you think I was going to do?”
With effort, I get my breathing under control. “Punish me.”
“Do you really want to start your day with a spanking before breakfast?”
I shake my head as much as my position allows.
He turns me onto my back, my arms stretched out above my head. I’m too preoccupied with my vulnerable position to be relieved that he hasn’t removed my T-shirt. It’s not being tied up. It’s not being half-naked. It’s the man kneeling next to me. It’s the power he holds over me.
“Is this how you beg, darling?”
I’m not too proud to nod once. I’d rather sacrifice my pride than give him my shame.
“Disrespect me all you want, Tatiana, but don’t do it in front of my men.”
In a second flat, my anger burns all the other emotions to ashes. I hate men like my father. Their reputations are holy and their dignity sacred, whereas us women are nothing but their pawns, their possessions to use as they see fit.