Breaking Donatella (Leave Me Breathless) Read online

  “Except you,” I muttered, climbing laboriously to my feet. “What’s your game, Moretti? You kidnap and torture me, putting a target on my back the minute you brought me here. When will I have to worry about getting shanked by your thugs?”

  “You’re an interesting person,” he replied, filling a second coffee cup. The rich brew made my nose tingle, and I swallowed a mouthful of drool.

  “Hold that thought. I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Of course.” He stood and inclined his head. “There are clothes waiting for you. I’ll look at your feet after you’re dressed.”

  The aspirin took the edge off the worst of my aches and pains, meaning I didn’t scream in agony for the short walk to the bathroom. I couldn’t understand what Moretti was up to. Oh, I understood the financial aspects. It was tempting, even for me. It would almost be worth marrying him just to see his expression when I gave half his wealth to women’s shelters and anti-bullying charities.

  A lifetime of abuse: Billions of euros. Snapshot of Moretti’s face after half of it goes to protect women from people like him—priceless.

  It never occurred to me the Rossi family was so rich. Even a tenth of the amount was more than most people saw in a lifetime. Then again, I hadn’t seen any of them in over twenty years. I was both furious and sad my mother had died for lack of what they had in such abundance. As a Rossi widow, she should have been taken care of.

  Blaming them for my mother’s death wasn’t entirely fair. She hadn’t said a word to me about being sick, and judging from the few things she’d let slip over the years, she wouldn’t have asked a Rossi for a glass of water if she’d been on fire. Given what I’d already experienced at Moretti’s hand, I understood her choices.

  “Okay, so a whole stinking lot of dirty money,” I whispered, washing my hands and face. The welts on my ass and thighs cried out, but I ignored the throbbing pain. Except for my feet, I wasn’t bleeding anywhere, and I was always taught if there wasn’t blood or a protruding bone, I had nothing to whine about.

  Still shocked Moretti had given me relative freedom, I dried my hands and face, then brushed my teeth. He was up to something, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  I’d read a few dark romances over the years, and always judged the hapless heroines. I was sure I’d be stronger. I’d have never given in.

  This was real, and I’d folded like a cheap lawn chair in the first chapter. The whole sad story was written on my face and body in virulent shades of purple and black. I sniffed, trying to push back my self-loathing.

  I’d failed at the most important rule my mother had ever given me.

  Another day of his brand of courtship would have broken me. I held no illusions about my ability to withstand his sadistic brutality. The overwhelming pleasure he could deliver coupled with the pain would have put me on my knees begging to do whatever he wanted.

  Raking my fingers through my hair, I tied it in a knot. I liked the mohawk, but I doubted he’d let me keep it. “Not a mafia princess approved hairstyle,” I muttered. There was a huge wicker basket filled with unopened makeup, but it would take me hours to layer enough product to hide the bruises on my face. Aside from that, if I had to look at them, so did he.

  I brushed a hand over the long silk caftan hanging on the door. Delicate watercolor swirls of green and blue decorated the beautiful fabric, making it elegant and almost too pretty to wear. It wasn’t my usual jeans and a T-shirt, but it looked comfortable and wouldn’t rub against my sore backside. Modest black panties and a bra hung beside it.

  Was this a test? Was he waiting to see if I’d wear everything? I bit my lip, fingering the gossamer silk. He hadn’t given me clothes since he took me. It made me suspect his motives.

  “Screw it.” I was done second guessing myself. Whatever I decided would probably be wrong anyway.

  7

  Cristian

  I watched her freshen up, enjoying the sight of my marks on her backside, although I was less pleased with the bruising on her face. Tomas had done a good job wiring the basement. She wouldn’t be allowed to escape again—especially now that she was unfettered.

  Donatella spent a great deal of time talking to herself. The tiny camera mounted in the light fixture saw and heard everything, and she wasn’t wrong. She was the linchpin needed to bring together an empire.

  Her opinion didn’t matter. Although I was willing to make an attempt at kindness, she wouldn’t be allowed to say anything but yes, and she would do it in her grandfather’s presence. Instead of the large wedding my position as head of the Moretti family demanded, ours would be a short ceremony in the old man’s sickroom. After that, Giuseppe Rossi could shuffle off and die at his leisure.

  She would capitulate once she’d gotten a taste of all I could offer, and I’d treat her well—as long as she behaved.

  When she finished dressing, I cut the video feed to my phone and went to tend her feet. Giving the door a few soft taps, I pushed it open and asked, “Are you ready for me, Donatella?”

  Her pink hair was actually quite fetching, but I couldn’t wait to see her with a proper hairstyle. I even liked the colors I’d chosen for her. She looked like a mermaid.

  “I’m fine. I can do it myself.”

  She tried to close the door in my face, but I pushed it open gently and helped her to sit on the toilet. “Let me.”

  “Fine.”

  It wasn’t the most appreciative answer and she hadn’t called me master as I’d asked, but I didn’t punish her for it. My little falcon needed time to get used to her jesses and hood. “I have some slippers to protect the bandages,” I murmured, dabbing the cuts with antiseptic.

  She opened her mouth, then shook her head, telling me something impolite had been about to come out. Instead, she thanked me, holding still until I finished.

  I’d have to reward her for doing so well at controlling herself. Rising to my feet, I held out a hand. “Come. We’ll have our breakfast now.”

  Sitting gingerly, she accepted the plate, but didn’t touch the food until she watched me eat a strawberry. Instead, she drank her coffee, then refilled the cup from the carafe. Gazing up at me, she said, “I don’t care about the money. Uncontrolled greed has never been my jam, so you’ll have to come up with something else.”

  “What do you care about?”

  “I want to go home and forget you exist.”

  “You don’t have a home,” I said, smiling with amusement. “You live out of the back of rental cars and cheap motel rooms.”

  “So? I like it. Traveling makes me happy.”

  “You would have the world if you married me.”

  “The cost is too high.” She shook her head and ate an egg. “I can’t be what you want.”

  “Our marriage would end the feud between our families. There would be no more fighting.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. The money might not be enough to convince her, but there had to be something she wanted badly enough to agree. “No other woman would have to hide in poverty and die to escape.”

  She paled and her jaw quivered, letting me know my shot had struck home. “I—”

  “What would you do if I could promise you that?”

  “You can’t.” Lifting a hand, she gestured at the ceiling. “Your own men would sooner see me dead, and I’d probably have to hire a food taster so the cooks don’t poison me.”

  “Families merge to stop wars all the time,” I countered. “We might have some growing pains, but I’m confident you’re up to the challenge.” Reaching over, I took her hand, squeezing the delicate flesh before she could pull away. “I will give you leave to strangle anyone who touches you. After you kill a few, the rest will fall in line.”

  An unwilling smile twitched her lips upward. “Only a few?”

  “As many as it takes to keep you safe and comfortable,” I promised. “And I’ll erase anyone who even considers harming you.”

  She chewed her swollen lip, and I had the inexplica
ble urge to pull it from between her teeth. “I have a counteroffer,” she finally said.

  I stroked her inner wrist, inordinately pleased she’d come to her senses so quickly. “All right. If it’s in my power to grant, you shall have everything you want.”

  “I will marry you if you meet my terms.” She looked up, her eyes like chips of ice. “This marriage will be in name only. You will never touch me again. Any children we have will be done at a fertility clinic with a surrogate. If they’re boys, they’re yours. The girls are mine.”

  Everything she said would fit the terms of a binding marriage, yet it wasn’t what I wanted. If I agreed, she’d never be under my control, and I wanted that almost more than I wanted the money.

  “Excuse me? I—”

  “I’m not finished. I will give you two boys. After that, I want out. If I have girls, you stay away from them. I don’t want them to know what you look like, much less that you’re their father. When I leave, you’ll sign away your parental rights and you will never contact us again. I’ll do the same for your sons.”

  “All of our children will be raised in luxury. Why would you separate sisters from their brothers?”

  “Nobody in these godforsaken families cares about women,” she retorted. “We’re bargaining chips at best, or murder victims at worst. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t let you take care of a goldfish, much less a child, but if that’s what it takes to get away, I’ll do it.”

  “We do not divorce,” I said. “The family is the most sacred thing we hold.”

  “Yeah, until it’s time to get rid of an inconvenient wife,” she muttered. “And don’t tell me it doesn’t happen. I know perfectly well your grandfather smothered his first wife in her sleep when he found out she couldn’t have children.”

  I blinked, but tried to hide my surprise. That wasn’t commonly known outside the family. “Where did you hear that?”

  “My mother told me. Are you denying it?”

  Gritting my teeth, I shook my head. Although I wanted to lie, it was unlikely she’d believe me. “I assume you’ll take half our assets as your settlement, then.”

  “No. I don’t want a dime. All I want is my freedom, so cross your fingers your first two children are boys.”

  I let go of her hand, afraid I might crush it in my aggravation. I had no idea what else she might possibly want, considering she’d very nearly castrated me with just a few words.

  “What else?” I snapped.

  Her smile widened and I bit back a curse, knowing I’d overplayed my hand. She was every bit as brutal and cutting as her grandfather, with an uncanny ability to stab at just the right spot.

  “I want my stuff so I can work. My cameras, computers, and everything else that was in the back of my rental car. I also want freedom to roam the island. Since I’m here, I might as well do a piece on Elba. It’s not like I’m going to come back.”

  “What about sex?” I asked. “We both have needs, and it would be a shame for them to go unfulfilled.”

  Full lips pressed together in a frown and she shook her head. “Get a mistress, if you don’t have one already. I’ll buy a vibrator. Besides, I have no idea where you’ve been.”

  “I’ve never once taken a woman without a condom, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll have a medical test.”

  I tried not to be insulted. Donatella had no way of knowing my history, and I hadn’t even considered hers, which was quite out of character for me. Now that I had her, I didn’t want a mistress, nor did I want to think about her taking care of her own needs. Then again, it might be entertaining to watch.

  Gazing at her thoughtfully, I considered the idea. She offered everything I needed, even if most of her requests made me want to bind her to a cross and force her to recant them. I could go back to my original plan and compel her obedience.

  That would be the traditional method, and the one I was most prepared to handle. It was how my father had dealt with my mother, although I preferred not to physically injure Donatella again. She would certainly never have to worry about me hitting our children.

  Yet force and coercion would be a specter under the surface of our marriage, and given Donatella had already tried to kill me twice…

  Maybe there was a better way. One that wouldn’t have me waking up dead someday, but would still put Donatella firmly where she belonged.

  “Fair enough. Thank you. Do we have a deal?”

  “Perhaps.” Leaning back in my chair, I steepled my fingers under my chin. I was beginning to feel a certain grudging respect for my soon-to-be wife, and I hadn’t expected it. “I have some requests of my own.”

  Ella

  I tried to control my shaking hands, knowing I’d gone too far with my demands. Maybe I was hoping he would give up if I got too outrageous. Pulling in a deep breath, I met his eyes.

  Did he know how my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the thought of leaving my children with him? They didn’t even exist and I was already mourning their loss, but I couldn’t stay and watch Moretti turn my babies into vicious little capos.

  I’d hoped asking for a surrogate would distance me, but it hadn’t. They’d still be my sons, sold to the devil for my freedom, and I hated myself for it. Protecting my daughters would have to be enough to soothe the tattered remnants of my conscience, but I’d be living with my failure forever.

  “Go on,” I said, ignoring the food on my plate. My appetite fled with my self-respect.

  “I’ll grant you everything you ask, with just a few exceptions.” Gazing at me over steepled fingers, he licked his lower lip. The gesture was natural, but uncomfortably carnal, and reminded me of all the ways he’d made my body sing with pleasure.

  “Which are?” I prodded, trying to push the sudden surge of need away.

  “You don’t leave the compound without an escort of my choosing. Otherwise, the island of Elba is yours to explore and film as you see fit. Any equipment you need will be provided.”

  “Will I have to kill him?”

  He laughed softly and shook his head. “You’ll have Tomas, my most trusted second. I swear on my life he won’t harm you.”

  I didn’t quite believe him, but considering my mood, I’d have no qualms about pushing the guard off a cliff for looking at me crossways. “Fair enough. What else?”

  “Your grandfather believes you to be dead, so he will need to see your agreement for himself before he gives us his blessing. I’ll have a priest meet us at the Rossi compound in Naples so he can bear witness.”

  I nodded my acceptance. “Medieval, but fine. It’ll save me the embarrassment of whatever spectacle of a wedding you come up with. What else?”

  His jaw tightened, then relaxed. Rising to his feet, he moved to sit next to me, his body heat making me shiver.

  “I want a month.”

  “For what?” I probably shouldn’t have asked. It was almost guaranteed the answer wouldn’t make me happy.

  “Consider it a honeymoon. I want thirty days to convince you to forget everything else you asked for. We will share a bed—”

  “Absolutely not. That’s a deal breaker.”

  “We will share a bed,” he repeated, pinching my chin between two fingers. “We will share meals, our time, and our lives for thirty days, and you will not refuse anything I ask.”

  “I said no.” Jerking away, I got up and crossed the room in a futile effort to put distance between us. “That will never be part of any deal I make with you.”

  His expression never changing, he cornered me easily, resting his hands on either side of my head. “Or I can go back to my original plan and break you.” He leaned close, brushing his lips over my temple. “I will take your will, your autonomy, and your soul. I will lock a collar around your neck, and you will carry it to your grave. You will never enjoy a day without pain, and you will never breathe outside air again.” Giving my earlobe a sharp nip, he added, “And you will beg, oh so sweetly, to obey my every single filthy desire.”


  I swallowed hard, desperate to keep the contents of my stomach in place. Unwilling to let him see my abject terror, I asked, “What’s stopping you from doing that now?”

  “I’d rather have your willing consent.” He backed away, giving me a boyish smile that hid the monster behind it. “After all, a broken toy is no fun to play with.”

  Throwing a hand over my mouth, I raced to the bathroom and fell to my knees, then retched uncontrollably until it felt like my toenails were going to come up. When I thought I could breathe without puking, I huddled on the floor, my forehead on my knees.

  “If you’re finished, I’d like your decision,” Moretti said, his shoulder propped against the doorframe.

  I lifted my head and stared at him. My thoughts raced, imagining myself chained in this basement. He’d trot our children down to visit their mother, and tell them all about what happened to women who didn’t obey their husbands.

  I’d be just like Rochester’s crazy, locked-up wife, and nobody would stop him because he was a fucking Moretti don.

  How could a man so handsome be so wrong inside? Worse, I still found him sexy as hell, even after knowing all he was capable of. He wanted to do those disgusting, horrifying things too. I could see it.

  And he’d make me like it.

  8

  Cristian

  “Your decision, please,” I said again, holding out a hand to help her up. “I can leave you alone if you’d like more time, but I want an answer by the end of the day.”

  “What’s the point?” She jerked free and walked out. “I don’t have a choice but to agree to your fucked-up bargain.”

  “I want to hear you say it. Turn and look at me, then tell me exactly what you’re accepting.”

  “Asshole.” She spun and glared, still pale, but I was glad to see a spark of life return to her eyes. “I have to marry your crazy ass, then give you thirty days for a honeymoon, in which you’re supposed to prove you’re not a sociopath.”