of me. It did not seem like I was the kind of woman he expected for his grandson. I overheard him tell Corrado the night I met him that I was “shiny.” Maybe like a fucking toy.
“He built an empire,” Corrado said, his eyes roaming over the details of the room. “The construction years in New York were good to him.”
“It is beautiful,” I said, not even needing to see the rest of the house to speak those words in truth. “Beyond beautiful. I will have to thank him.”
His eyes came back to mine. Our stares seemed to crash like the waves rushing into shore outside. There had been something on his mind ever since we left. His mood felt…dark, almost dangerous.
He took a step toward me. I took a step back. We did this until he had me pinned against the glass door, his body much bigger and stronger than mine. He made me feel like a woman.
I looked up at him, and in the reflection of his eyes I noticed that I was blinking. He took my hand in his and lifted it against the glass, pinning it there. The black silk slid between our palms. His other hand came around my throat, lo scorpione against my windpipe. One squeeze and he would crush it. The pressure was enough to almost make me gasp for air.
“I might have sung and danced for you,” he said, his voice in total control, but there was something underneath the surface that was as dangerous as his mood. “But I’m not your fucking puppet, Alcina. I’m your husband. Your mind, body, soul, wants are mine. You get hungry. I feed you. You get thirsty. I pour the wine down your fucking throat. You need to get off. I fuck you. Every inch of you belongs to me.”
My head swam in dizziness. My eyes could barely focus. My lungs burned. Not enough air. But I was so wet that the lace between my legs was cool from being soaked. My nipples were painfully stiff, and I was so turned on that a whimper left my mouth.
He applied a little more pressure and I lifted my neck, trying to take in just a little more air, or maybe I would pass out. “You even think about taking another man to bed—” he came in closer, his lips a mere kiss from mine “—I will kill you. Then I will die. Capisci?”
He was not doing this to be sexual. The threat in his voice, along with the pressure on my neck, was real. I could see it in his hardened dark-amber eyes. The color was no longer a warning, or warming, but to keep me in his grip for the rest of my life.
I reached down with my free hand and grabbed a handful of his cock and balls, almost squeezing, giving him a warning in return. “Sì, Scorpione,” I barely got out.
He grinned at me, but it was wicked. He applied a little more pressure, and I had the insane urge to claw at his fingers, to dislodge them from my throat. But I waited him out, defying him by keeping my eyes hard on his. I meant it when I had told him I was not made of glass. I did not shatter when the bull beat me. He had, after I disconnected him from his manhood.
No man would ever put his hands on me that way and not expect to be seriously wounded, if I could help it.
This man. He would never hurt me, unless I hurt him in that way first. He was claiming what was his. I knew the difference between what my husband was doing and what the bull tried to do. I also understood what Anna had meant in that moment when she said sometimes a woman could not understand it until it happens to her—to be claimed down to her soul.
“Who am I to you, Alcina?” The pressure lightened a little, but not by much. “That’s what you call me.”
“Mio marito,” I rasped out.
“Ti amo, i miei occhi d'angela,” he said.
Removing lo scorpione from my throat, I inhaled, almost gasping for breath, but he did not give me any breathing room.
His mouth came against mine, and I stole his breath for my own. My hands fisted in his hair, needing him even closer. My leg ran up his, and he locked it in place. His mouth moved lower, devouring my neck, his lips almost gentle. It was