I’m not at all looking forward to the experience.
And then, I see who is waiting for me, standing to the left of the room flanked by several guards.
Fury jolts through me, rage boiling my blood all over again as I see Giovanni Russo standing there in the flesh, silver-haired and dressed in a clean, tailored suit, his Italian leather shoes gleaming and his bearing that of a man who believes with absolute arrogance that he deserves to rule the world.
"Damian Kutnezsov." His voice is pleasant, like he's greeting an old friend. "So good to see you again.”
“Where is she?” I growl. I don’t give a fuck about pleasantries, while Sienna is locked somewhere in this hellhole.
Giovanni’s face remains locked in a cool, pleasant expression. "Your wife? She's safe. For now."
I lunge against the guards holding me, my teeth bared. "If you've hurt her?—"
He chuckles, looking pointedly at the several sets of hands holding me back, the handcuffs on my wrists. "You'll what? You're hardly in a position to make threats." He nods to the guards. “Sit him down. We need to have a chat.”
I struggle. It’s not in me to do otherwise, to allow myself to be marched to the place I’m told to sit without resistance. But there’s very little I can do, bound and outnumbered. It takes longer than Giovanni would like, I’m sure, but I’m finally shoved down into thechair, locked down twice over with a second set of handcuffs on each wrist, binding me to the back of the chair.
Giovanni circles me at a wide berth, like a predator sizing up wounded prey. I sit motionless, glaring at him with a furious stare. “Let’s hear what you fucking have to say, Russo,” I growl. “I don’t have all fucking day.”
He laughs at that, a full-bellied, genuine laugh. “I like you, Kutnezsov,” he says with a grin. “I wish I had a man like you working for me.”
I twist to see if Sal is in the room; if he heard that. I hope he fucking did.
“I’d never work for a piece of shit like you,” I snarl. “I don’t hurt women. I don’t use them for my pleasure and then sell them off, and I sure as shit don’t trade in flesh. I’d never follow your orders, Russo.”
He chuckles, amusement in every line of his face. This is a game to him, and it only makes me more furious. “Don’t you, Kutnezsov? Use women? Or are you going to sit there and tell me that you haven’t touched that pretty, convenient wife of yours? That you married her to keep us from silencing her and have kept your bed cold and chaste?” He steps closer, his smile turning cruel. “Are you going to tell me that you haven’t found out how something so sweet tastes?”
Guilt sears through me, all of it flooding up at once like bile.Young. Innocent. Sweet. Dependent on me.I got off on it. I let her get on her knees and I filled her mouth with my cum and I came harder than I ever have in my fucking life, knowing she was inexperienced and trainable and too young for me. I treated her like a toy, rationalizing that if I never fucked her, that made it better.
Giovanni sees the guilt on my face. He laughs again. “Of course, you’re too good of a man to touch a woman who married you for fear of her life, right? But it’s a shame if you didn’t. You’ll have to watch all of my men enjoying what you didn’t take for yourself. Unless, of course, you’re willing to consider changing sides. Come and work for me, Kutnezsov, and we can talk.”
I can feel my hackles rising, fury coursing through me. “I told you, Russo. I’d never work for a dog like you.”
“No?” Giovanni smirks. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind watching your ‘wife’ being fucked by my men, as a reward for their hard work, before I sell her off to some third-world hellhole to work in a brothel until she dies. I have several men here, I’m sure each of her holes will get at least four men apiece. It shouldn’t bother you at all, since you didn’t want her.”
It feels as if something snaps in my brain every time he threatens her, like a piece of my control breaks with every word. I lunge against the cuffs, nearly shooting to my feet with the chair still bound to me, before the guards close in and shove me back down. “I swear to fucking Christ, Russo—” I snarl, the words guttural as they pour from my throat. “I’ll see you in pieces if you lay so much as a finger on my wife?—”
Giovanni looks unfazed. “Your wife. You keep saying that, Kutnezsov, but I question the legitimacy of it. We’ve questioned that priest who oversaw your marriage. It seems that there was no real passion, no genuine love between the two of you.” He smiles, cruel and amused. “You married her to keep her out of our hands. I don’t like being managed, Damian. Can I call you Damian? You’re in a position of subservience to me now, after all. And if you don’t want your wife to become a toy for my men before I sell her off to some warlord in another country, or a brothel where men like to see how many pieces they can carve off of a woman while they fuck her, you’ll think very carefully about what I’m going to say.”
“I’m not the one who should think carefully,” I growl, but he doesn’t miss a beat.
“Your protection has failed, Damian. Your wife is in our hands, to do with as I please. But since you’re so insistent that she’s yours, that she isgenuinelyyour bride, then you should have no trouble proving it, should you? After all, if she really is your wife, legally and truly, then you’re right. I couldn’t possibly sell her off without incurring the wrath of Konstantin Abramov, and we have enough bad blood between us already.”
I narrow my eyes at him, my jaw clenched. “You want the fucking marriage certificate? I’ll have to go home and get a copy.”
Giovanni laughs broadly. “Oh, no. I have a much more entertaining option in mind. You see, I don’t think Konstantin wants a war with us. Not really. He’s been a diplomat all along, and he’ll look for a diplomatic answer. But of course, if I were to harm a member of his household?—”
“You’ll fucking die screaming. You’ll die screaming anyway, if you hurt her?—”
“Yes, yes.” Giovanni waves a hand. “I’ve heard it all. What I want is proof, Damian. I want to see with my own eyes that this woman who has caused so much trouble isreallyyour bride. And you’re going to prove to us, once and for all, that she’s more than just a stripper you married to hide her away from us. That this isn’t some elaborate trick that’s been played on me.”
I jerk against the cuffs, rattling them. “Stop talking in circles, Russo. What the fuck do you want?”
Giovanni smiles, a lazy, reptilian smile that makes my blood curdle. “It’s simple, Damian. If she’s your wife, then show us. Fuck her, with witnesses. After all, if she’s really your bride, then it’s nothing you haven’t done before. And if you haven’t consummated the marriage yet, then do it now, while we watch. I’ll take you to her. And when you’re done, and someone has checked to be sure you…finishedproperly, then I’ll let you both go. As a gesture of goodwill, to prevent any more unpleasantness between our families.”
I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. “You can’t be fucking serious. You’re out of your goddamned mind.”
Giovanni shrugs. "Am I? It's a simple test. If you refuse, well, that proves the marriage is fake, and we proceed with our original plans for the girl. If you agree..."
