Page 55 of Claimed Through Deception

Then, I begin to move.

I pull back and drive into her with a slow stroke. She gasps, her hips rising to meet me. I set the pace, keeping it steady, ensuring every movement brings her pleasure instead of pain. I watch her face. I watch the way her eyes glaze over, the way her lips part on a silent moan.

Good, I am ruining her for anyone else.

The thought is a triumphant rhythm in my blood. She will never know another man's touch. She will never hear another man's name in the dark. I am rewriting her entire existence, stamping my claim onto her soul.

The pace increases. The primal urge takes over again, demanding friction, demanding release. Livia matches me, her small hands pulling me closer, her nails scratching down my back.

"Say it," I rasp, thrusting deep.

"I'm yours," she cries out, tossing her head back. "Only yours."

The confession shatters my control.

I drive into her, hard and fast, chasing the edge. Livia shatters first, her body clenching around me, milking me dry. Her release triggers mine. I roar her name, spilling into her with a violent, blinding climax that empties my mind of everything but her.

I collapse heavily against her side, pulling her flush against my chest.

She is panting, her skin slick with sweat. She rests her head on my shoulder, her fingers weakly tracing the ink on my forearm.

I pull the dark silk sheet over our bodies and make sure I do not let her go.

I watch Livia finally fall asleep. She is curled against my side, her face buried in the crook of my neck. She looks younger in her, she looks beautiful, peacefully calm.

I am an ass, I let the staff treat her like garbage so she would run to me. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I own her. She admitted it. She gave me her body, her innocence, and her surrender. But a cage is still a cage, no matter how soft the silk sheets are. If I keep her locked in this room, if I keep her isolated from the sun, the fire inside her will eventually die.

I don't want a broken doll. I want a queen.

I carefully slide my arm out from under her head. I replace my body heat with a heavy pillow. She murmurs in her sleep, shifting slightly, but does not wake.

I stand up, pulling on a pair of dark sweatpants. I walk silently across the room and step out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind me with my phone in hand.

Then I dial the guardhouse.

"Don Niccolò," the voice of my head of security answers immediately.

"The perimeter rules for Livia Marino are changing," I state softly.

"Sir?"

"She is no longer confined to the house," I order. "She is granted full, unescorted access to the south gardens and the glass greenhouse. If she walks out the back doors, the patrols will fall back. Give her a fifty-yard radius. No one approaches her. No one speaks to her. She is allowed to walk freely in the sunlight."

"Understood, Boss."

I hang up the phone.

I look out over the sprawling estate. The south gardens are massive, filled with ancient oak trees, stone pathways, and a large Victorian greenhouse my mother built decades ago. It is a sanctuary.

I will give her the gardens. I will give her the sun. I will let her feel the wind on her face without a guard breathing down her neck.

It is a taste of freedom. A beautiful, temporary peace.

I turn around and walk back into the bedroom. I slide under the covers, pulling her warm body back against my chest. She sighs, tangling her legs with mine.

I bury my face in her hair and finally go to sleep.