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“I came down here to feed my wife some wedding cake,” he says.
“Why are you doing this to me? I swear on my life, I am not a spy. I have never met Giovanni,” I tell him impatiently. I am getting tired of saying this to him.
He winces in a mocking manner and raises his fingers to show the ring on his finger.
“It’s a bit too late for that. I sent the recording of our wedding to Giovanni already. I don’t think he’ll be happy with it,” he says.
I close my eyes as a wave of dizziness washes over me. “You don’t want me. I’m a nobody. Please just let me go back to my family,” I say to him, my voice tired.
“Now I’m hurt. You’ve barely been with your husband for a few hours, and you’re asking to leave already. You’re so cruel,” he says.
There is no getting through to him. “Please just let me go,” I say. I don’t know what else to do. I barely understand the enmity blowing between him and Giovanni. How am I supposed to interpret being forced to marry him just to hurt Giovanni? I think about how proud I was after he fucked me in his office at the club and anger coils around the desire I still feel for him.
He leans over to me and holds out the plate. “Have some cake,” he says.
I look away, and immediately, his hands grab my chin and force me to face him. “It’s not a request. Take the damn cake,” he growls. He jabs the forkful of cake toward me.
I give him a nasty look, wishing that a look could kill someone.
He scowls at my refusal, and he sets the plate down very carefully. He leans forward and grips my chin so hard that my eyes water. He grabs some of the cake off the plate and crams it into my mouth as I sputter and try to writhe away from him.
“You like it, don’t you?” he asks as I choke and try to swallow. He wipes the cake off my lips, and he chuckles at me. “You’re going to be a wonderful wife. I can feel it in my bones,” he says.
“Please, just let me go,” I gasp, “I have a family. They’re all I have. They need me,” I say.
“From now on, Alyssa, you belong to me. Every breath you take, every step, every move. Your spirit, your soul, and your body,” he says, moving his fingers from chin down to my shoulders in a soft caress. “All of you…it belongs to me,” he says.
“Why would you want to be married to someone who hates you?” I demand, a shiver of pleasure thrumming through my body that gives the lie to my words.
He smiles. “I own you now. I like owning things.” He raises himself to his height and looks down at me.
“Get used to life here with me,” he says. “And get used to being down here in the basement until your behavior improves. You can win my trust if you’re a good girl. A husband should be able to trust his wife, after all.”
“Please, let me go,” I plead again.
He smiles. “You’re mine now, Alyssa. Why would I let you go?”
He pushes the plate of cake over to me and claps his hands together to dust them off.
I swallow. I don’t believe him that he will grow to trust me. The part of me that’s so stubbornly attracted to him cries out that it doesn’t matter, that I would take him however he wants to give himself to me.
“Think on it. I’ll be down here tomorrow to see you, wifey,” he says, giving me one last cruel smile, his chocolaty eyes boring into mine before he snaps off the light and leaves me in the darkness.
Chapter Eight
Antonio
Donatello shakes his head as Bunny leads the group to the west wing of my mansion.
“We’ve tested it on them already. I don’t think this will work,” he says.
I turn to the gloved doctor in a crisp white lab coat. He nods, sharing Donatello’s sentiments.
“To see the full efficacy of the drugs, I think it’s best we use a subject that’s clean,” he says.
Bunny scoffs. “And where exactly do we find a ‘clean’ subject? Even Mr. Goody Two Shoes over there enjoys a little fun now and then,” he says, taking a jab at Donatello.
Donatello chuckles. “Speak for yourself. I haven’t used in years,” he replies.
