Breaking Donatella (Leave Me Breathless) Read online

  These women had built a family of their own together. I admired that. Maybe I could… No, my feet were already itching to move, and I was stuck in south Florida for at least three more weeks until I finished editing a month’s worth of footage. It was as good a place as any to hole up and work, and there weren’t many distractions. I didn’t have funding approved to find another gig until this one was done.

  Weren’t there underwater caves somewhere close? I made a note on my phone to check it out for a future show, then yawned and rubbed my bleary eyes. Club staff were already eyeing me, waiting not so patiently for me to get moving so they could clean.

  “Sorry,” I called. “I was off in my own little world.”

  I stood, then stumbled when my head swam. Yikes. I grabbed my camera gear, then trudged outside, meaning to sit in my car until the alcohol cleared my system. Weird. I hadn’t even had that much to drink. Maybe I was more tired than I’d thought.

  Unfortunately, when I got outside, my car was gone. It was a rental, so I didn’t care about that, but my life was in the trunk, including my cameras and laptops. My footage and notes were on the cloud, although my producer wasn’t going to be happy about having to replace twenty grand worth of equipment.

  The only thing I had was the video camera and tripod I’d used to record tonight’s bout. I had my wallet and ID too, but my passport and international driving permit had been in my computer bag.

  “God damn it!” Suddenly defeated, I let my legs buckle and collapsed, falling to my butt on the warm asphalt.

  “Are you all right?” a man asked. His voice was soft and husky, with a faint Italian accent.

  I should have been more wary, given who my grandfather was, but my head was so thick and muzzy. My vision blurry, I looked up into the dark eyes of one gorgeous hunk of man wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt. His jaw was covered by scruff, but it was neatly groomed and trimmed, as was his mahogany hair. He was also very tall and had the most beautiful long-fingered hands.

  Letting out a sigh of relief, I relaxed. My grandfather’s enemies didn’t appear in public wearing jeans. Neither did his associates, for that matter. Sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart. Past me had loved the old coot with everything I had because he was the purveyor of hugs, sweets, and pony rides. Present me was a little wiser.

  “Yes, thank you. My rental car was stolen, so I need to call the police, then get an Uber.” I yawned again, then had to resist the urge to lie down. I managed to stand up, but nearly fell when my legs refused to support my weight. The man caught me, holding me easily against his chest. He smelled like sunshine and whiskey. Yum. He was the exact perfect height too. My head barely topped his shoulder, making it a wonderful place to rest my numb face.

  “Hi, I’m Ella Rose,” I slurred. “What’s your name?”

  He laughed as my consciousness trickled away, slipping through my fingers like water. “You’ll eventually learn to call me Master, Donatella Rossi.”

  Fuck.

  When I finally came to, I was in a queen-sized bed with silky cotton sheets and a down comforter.

  I knew it was down because my nose itched. The pillows were too. Sitting up, I sneezed, which made my head pound so hard I thought I might be sick. I had a raging headache and a mouth that tasted like a rat had crawled inside and died. Whatever I’d consumed hadn’t been just beer.

  Although it was a muted roar, I knew what a plane engine sounded like. Judging by the bed and en suite bathroom, I was in a very expensive private jet. I supposed it was better than being locked in the trunk of a car on the way to a shallow grave like I’d expected.

  I probably should have been terrified, but I was more angry than afraid. If my kidnapper had wanted me dead, I probably wouldn’t have woken from my drugged sleep. He’d have executed me in the parking lot instead of loading me into a posh aircraft. At the very least, I’d have been restrained. He might have left me naked, which was scary by itself, but I was alive and free to move around.

  Everything was too confusing, and I didn’t know what to think. If he didn’t want me dead, what did he want? Not knowing was almost worse.

  I sat up and tried to rub the tension from my neck, but my hand fell on stiff leather instead of bare skin.

  “Hell no, that asshole did not collar me.” Tugging at the thick leather gained me nothing except another broken nail. The buckle was secured with some sort of locking mechanism I couldn’t figure out without seeing it.

  “Fucker,” I muttered, trudging to the bathroom. I took care of business and washed up. One glance in the mirror made me want to hide under the sheets. My eyes were swollen from my allergic reaction to the down bedding and there was a shiner on my cheekbone from a wayward elbow, which had happened during the derby.

  My hip also ached, a sharp stab of pain that probably came from Alice’s body check dropping me to my ass in the first jam. Man, I wanted to be Alice when I grew up. Well into her fifties, she had three grandkids and still managed to be a fantastic blocker.

  Focus, dammit!

  Worse, I still couldn’t figure out the lock on the collar. I eyed the shower. I stank, and it might help relieve some of my aches and pains. Then again, if I smelled bad, whoever had taken me might be less likely to touch me. Without thinking, I exited the lavatory.

  “A beautiful woman shouldn’t play such dangerous sports. You look horrible.”

  Flinching, I bit back a squeak of surprise, then darted forward and grabbed the comforter, wrapping it around myself. It would make me sneeze again, but I didn’t want him seeing me.

  The sexy stubble still covered his jaw and the voice was the same, but he wore a suit instead of jeans. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement, yet I didn’t see any malice. Maybe he had a better poker face than I did.

  I should have known he was too good to be true. The Rossi legacy had finally caught up to me. It was a pity my future killer was so gorgeous. Then again, he hadn’t done a thing to hurt me.

  Yet.

  Shivering, I tried to regain my composure. Maybe I could talk my way out of this. My studio might pay to get me back, and I had a decent nest egg tucked away for emergencies.

  “That might have something to do with being drugged and kidnapped. Where are you taking me?” Without warning, I sneezed, then wiped my watery eyes.

  “Are you ill?” he asked, frowning.

  “No, I’m allergic to down,” I retorted. “Before you get started doing whatever it is asshole goodfellas do to innocent women born into the wrong families, I have nothing to do with any Rossi enterprise, whether legal or not, but if it’s money you’re after, my studio will pay for my return.”

  I had no desire to be sucked into that filthy family business. My mother had given up everything to keep me safe, including her health and eventually her life. Lack of health insurance and money meant her cancer went undetected until it was too late. She worked two jobs until the very end to keep me in college, and I’d never known it.

  She’d asked me to come home the weekend she died, and I… I hadn’t made it in time. I swallowed the sob trying to crawl up my throat. God, I missed her.

  “I have no interest in ransoming you,” he murmured, piercing me with those dark eyes. “Did you know your grandfather is dying of cancer?”

  “I—”

  “Just as your mother did.” He fingered a small device in his hand, then looked at me. “Of course, you abandoned her too.”

  2

  Cristian

  I barely had time to steel myself for her attack. Knowing she’d be enraged, I readied myself to correct her before she launched herself at me, but she was so damned fast. In a scant few seconds, I had well over a hundred pounds of furious woman clawing at my face, punching, biting, doing her level best to kill me with her bare hands.

  For a moment, I even lost the remote for her collar, but regained it as she laid a vicious scratch down the side of my face, nearly taking my eye. Scrabbling for the button, I activated it, sending a jolt of current
through her body.

  She screamed and fell back, her limbs twitching. Panting, I stood over her, resisting the urge to give her another surge of electricity. I’d goaded her into attacking. Donatella had loved her mother, and visited her grave in eastern Utah regularly. According to the doctors at the hospital where Lelia Rossi died, she never told Donatella she was ill. Donatella arrived bare minutes too late after a twenty-hour drive.

  After wiping my face on the sheet, I stood and went to the door. “Bring me the steel shackles,” I instructed.

  Tomas nodded and put down the newspaper he was reading, then retrieved the items from a carryon. “Would you like me to stitch that for you, sir?” he asked, pointing at the cut under my eye. “It will scar.”

  “Find some butterfly closures.” I took the restraints from him and returned to Donatella, belatedly checking to make sure she was still breathing. It wouldn’t do at all to have her die on me before I bent her to my will.

  What would it be like to have such powerful ferocity under me in bed? My past partners were passive, willing to go along with whatever depravity I could muster. But Donatella would be feral. Demanding. She’d leave bloody marks on my back while I fucked her.

  I’d wear the scars with pride, knowing I’d be the only one to pleasure her. My lip ached and I touched it, grinning at the blood on my fingers. Her children would be magnificent. Oddly, I couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or happy she didn’t appear to have other piercings aside from the ring in her nose and a few holes in each ear where earrings would go. Aside from a neatly waxed landing strip, her pussy was bare of both hair and jewelry. Thankfully, the bit of hair on her mound wasn’t pink.

  The tattoos covering her arms from wrist to shoulder were extremely well-executed collages of images that worked surprisingly well together. Leaning closer, I examined a sea turtle with a plumeria flower, finding a date cleverly hidden in the turtle’s shell. Ah. These were beautifully rendered souvenirs of her travels. She also had one on the back of her right shoulder of a blossoming orchid with her mother’s name and the date of her death in elegant script.

  Donatella stirred, moaning as she struggled toward consciousness. Instead of coddling her, I pushed her shoulder, rolling her to her back. Moving quickly, I affixed the shackles to her wrists. The chain between the cuffs would allow her enough movement to take care of personal needs, but she wouldn’t be able to attack again.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she jerked, making the chains rattle. “Fucking bastard,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Such language.” Gently, well, gently for me, I stroked her jaw, then leaned down to kiss her. “I’ll have to teach my future wife better manners.”

  A sweet, vivid smile blossomed, transforming her face into aching beauty. Then she slammed her forehead into mine and wrapped the chain connecting her cuffs around my neck, strangling me with the weapon I’d just given her.

  Dazed and losing air, I slapped at her and tried to escape her deadly hold, but she locked her legs around my hips, tightening almost painfully. Teeth bared in a grimace, her blue eyes turned icy as she pulled the chain tighter, cutting off the flow of oxygen to my brain.

  Tomas appeared, his face set in a wry smile as he pried her hands away and slammed them against the bed. Coughing, I sat up and rubbed my throat, then grinned down at her. “Oh, baby girl, I’m going to have such fun with you.”

  Hissing, she spat at me like an angry cat. Resisting the urge to slap her, I jerked my chin at Tomas. “Get her ankles,” I ordered.

  “Yes, Signore. She does appear to be a Rossi, doesn’t she?” To his credit, Tomas barely noticed her nudity, but I wasn’t sure I liked him seeing her. Strange. I’d never cared if he saw one of my bed partners before. Then again, Donatella was going to be my wife.

  “No!” Scrambling off the bed, she backed away, her eyes darting as if she sought a weapon.

  I held up the remote for her collar, my thumb hovering over the button. “Darling, get back on the bed, on your stomach.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or we see how well you tolerate the shock collar.”

  Her lips curled into a sneer. “Fuck you. I want—”

  I tapped the button, just a short burst to let her know I was serious. Crying out, she dropped to her knees. “On the bed, piccolina.”

  “Asshole.” She rose up, getting her knees under her in an attempt to stand, but I tapped the button again, driving her to all fours.

  “Crawl, Donatella. You’ll crawl for me before I allow you to walk.”

  Ella

  Gritting my teeth, I crept on sore knees to the bed, then climbed up and lowered myself to my stomach. Getting shocked again wasn’t on my to-do list for today. Fuck, that hurt. I was surprised I hadn’t pissed myself.

  The sound of a belt buckle made me shiver and I resisted the urge to kick when Mr. Fuckwit’s toady shackled my ankles together. If the chain between my ankles was as long as the one between my wrists, I’d be able to shuffle enough to walk, but running would be impossible. Besides, the only way out was going to be a very long free fall from an emergency exit.

  “Anything else, Signore?” the hired goon asked.

  “No, thank you, Tomas. I believe I have things under… Actually, help me.”

  Working together, they grabbed my wrists and loosened the chain. I tried, God help me, but Mr. Fuckwit sat on me to keep me still. I bit back a curse when they chained my wrists together behind my back, leaving me helpless.

  “All right, I think we have everything in order,” Fuckwit said. “You may return to your newspaper.”

  Lifting my shoulders, I turned to glare at him, trying not to shiver when he pulled his belt from the loops of his wool trousers. “I am going to kill you,” I hissed, baring teeth. At least Tomas walked out. Thank God for small favors.

  Shrugging, he doubled the leather belt and drew it through his hands. “I believe I’ll take that chance, love.”

  The belt whistled and I heard a loud crack a scant second before flames lit my ass right the fuck up.

  Whack!

  “Son of a… Ow!”

  Whack!

  I let out a howl of anger mixed with pain when the belt fell again. And again. Over and over.

  Arching my back, I tightened my muscles and slammed my mouth shut. It would be a cold day in Hell before I let that bastard see how much it hurt.

  Whack!

  Whack!

  Whack!

  The blows finally stopped and he laid a palm on my scorched backside. My flesh felt swollen and I ached all the way from the top curve of my butt to the middle of my thighs, but the touch felt weirdly pleasant. Hiding my face in the sheets, I rubbed away a few tears and tensed up, unwilling to let him see how much I liked it.

  “Have you nothing to say, Donatella?” he asked softly, still petting me. “An apology, perhaps?”

  I lifted my head and turned to face him as best I could. Giving him a sweet smile filled with teeth, I said, “I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded, giving my butt a soft pat as if he was rewarding a dog. Asshole. “Better, darling. Now, what are you sorry for?”

  “It was incredibly gauche of me not to squeeze that chain tighter until your head popped like a grape.”

  The pleasant expression left Fuckwit’s face and he tightened his fingers, digging into my abused ass. “Your smart mouth is going to get you in trouble. I suggest you have a care.”

  “Go away,” I retorted. “I don’t talk to dead men walking.”

  A chime sounded, making a tic work across his jaw. When Tomas returned and touched his shoulder, he scowled. “I know.”

  Reaching down, he caught my chin in his hand and squeezed, making me blink back tears of pain. “We’ll be landing in Elba soon, so I don’t have time to make you eat those words right now.”

  “Fuck you.” No, just hell to the no. I could not go to Elba. It was the home of the Moretti family, and the one place I refused to add to my travel itineraries. Hell, I didn
’t even go to mainland Italy unless I absolutely had to, and never further north than Naples.

  Which one was he? There were only a few left alive, thanks to the war between our families. Neither side was innocent in that two hundred years of fuckery. Nobody could hold a grudge like an Italian, and it was the reason my mother had given her life to get me out.

  And this was how I repaid her sacrifice. Getting caught off guard by a pig of a Moretti with a pretty face.

  I might know who had taken me, but not why he hadn’t executed me already. Knowing the Moretti family, a bullet would have been kinder. I swallowed hard, trying to choke back abject terror.

  “Oh, you’ll be spreading your legs for me soon enough.” He smirked and let me go. “I have all the time in the world to make you obey.”

  Turning away, he jerked his chin at Tomas. “Dose her. I’ll get to work after she’s secured at home.”

  Screaming in rage, I bucked and tried to wriggle away, but Moretti caught me by the collar before I could roll off the bed, then pressed his entire weight against my back, nearly suffocating me.

  Tomas grabbed my shoulder, holding me still. I felt a sharp sting in my upper arm, and after a moment, they got off me, allowing me to breathe again. Although I tried to fight against the warm lassitude creeping down my body, my eyes closed.

  My voice came out as a weak, faint whisper, but I managed a few words before I went out like a light. “You’re a dead man, Moretti scum.”

  3

  Cristian

  Tomas tugged the down bedding away, then stilled, his eyes fixed on a strawberry birthmark on Donatella’s thigh. Clearing his throat, he covered her with a sheet, obviously remembering her allergy. I was more inclined to let her suffer.