“Wear this,” Remo ordered, throwing my wedding dress down on the bed. I stared at the white layers of tulle, at the blood stains and the tears. I hadn’t seen it in almost two months. It didn’t feel like something I’d ever owned. Nothing I was meant to wear ever again.
“Why?” I asked.
Remo turned toward me, his dark eyes hard. “Because I told you to do it, Serafina.”
Not Angel. Serafina. What was going on? I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
He moved closer, glaring down at me. “Do as I say.”
“Or what?” I said harshly. “What could you possibly do to me? You have taken everything from me that mattered. There’s nothing left for you to take, to break.”
Remo’s mouth turned cruel. “If you really think that’s true, then you are weaker than I thought.”
I swallowed hard, but I didn’t put on the dress. We both knew I was so much stronger than he’d ever imagined. Maybe that was why he kept doing this, pushing me away.
Remo reached for his knife and pulled it out with a bone-chilling clink of the blade against the sheath. Goose bumps rose on my skin, but I stood my ground because if I knew one thing it was that Remo wouldn’t hurt me. Not anymore, not ever again.
Whatever twisted bond had formed between us, it prevented him from causing me pain.
Gripping the neckline of my nightgown, he sliced through the fabric with a sharp slash of the knife. The shreds pooled at my feet, leaving me in only my panties.
His dark eyes roamed over my body, the knife still clutched in his hand, and my core tightened with need. He gripped my hip and wrenched me toward him, his lips crushing down on mine. I gasped as his tongue conquered my mouth, teeth clanking. He backed me up against the bed until I fell back. He slashed through my panties with his knife, and the closeness of the blade caused a shiver to pass down my spine. Remo towered over me and freed his erection, his eyes furious and hungry and terrifying.
Holding his gaze, I opened my legs for him because I was lost, had been lost from the moment Remo had laid eyes on me, and as I looked up at him, I knew without a doubt that he, too, was lost.
The corners of his mouth lifted as he lowered his gaze to my center. He got down on his knees, pushing my legs even further apart. Remo buried his face in my lap. I arched up, my nails digging into the crisp sheets, my gaze finding my torn wedding dress. Remo’s mouth claimed me relentlessly, with tongue and lips, bites and licks. There was no escaping. He wouldn’t let me. He made me surrender, not with force, not with violence … He dove in, swirling until I was a slave to the sensations he created. My orgasm crashed over me like an avalanche, but my eyes remained locked on the stained white fabric of my dress—a sign for my honor, my purity.
Both lost.
Both taken … No. Given.
Remo’s mouth traveled up my stomach, licking and nibbling, tongue flicking my nipple. He bit down lightly then soothed the spot with an open-mouthed kiss. His body covered mine, his palms pressed into the bed beside my head, the knife still clutched in his grasp. For a moment our eyes locked, and I hated him, hated myself, hated us both, because hate became harder to hold on to each day that I spent with him.
We both needed our hate, and yet it was slipping through our fingers like sand. There was no way to contain it. Lost. His dark eyes reflected my inner turmoil. Losing ourselves to each other.
My gaze returned to my dress when Remo thrust into me in one all-consuming merciless stroke. His mouth pressed up to my ear as he slammed into me angrily. “When I saw you in that dress, I knew I needed to be the one to rip your innocence from you. I knew I needed to be the one to make you bleed. Who knew you’d make me bleed in return?”
I shuddered, my throat tightening even as my body throbbed with traitorous pleasure. Finally I tore my gaze from the dress to glare up at Remo—my captor, my nemesis, my ruin … and yet, despite what he’d taken from me, hatred wasn’t the only thing my weak, idiotic heart felt. But that was a truth I would take to my grave.
“I hate you,” I whispered as if saying the words aloud would make them true.
Remo’s eyes bore into mine, filled with emotions, his mouth twisting in a dark smile because he knew. He moved closer, tongue sliding along the seam of my lips. “Nothing tastes sweeter than your lips, even when they’re spewing lies, Angel.”
His next thrust hit deep, and I could not hold back. Blinding pleasure rushed through my body. My lips parted but I swallowed my cry. I wouldn’t give it to Remo. Not today. He bit down on my throat, and the force of my orgasm doubled. The moan clawed itself out of my throat. He couldn’t even allow me that small victory. His own face twisted with strain as he kept thrusting, shoulders flexing. He kissed my mouth softly then my ear, and I knew he would deliver words meant to break, words worse than any torture could ever be. I’d known it from the moment I’d seen his cold face this morning.
“You wanted to know why I need you to put on your wedding dress,” he rasped as his thrusts became less controlled.
My chest tightened with dread.
Remo kissed my ear again. “You see, I arranged a meeting with Dante for tonight, and I promised to give you back. Danilo will be there as well, and I thought he’d appreciate finally seeing you in your wedding dress. Even if I stole what you promised to him.”
Shock and fury crashed down on me, and I slapped Remo hard. He gripped my wrist and pressed it into the mattress over my head as he thrust into me again, eyes staking claim on me over and over again, taking more with every thrust. But he couldn’t lock me out anymore, because I, too, had laid claim to a part of him.
His body tightened, coiling tight with pleasure, and as always, my own traitorous body submitted to him again. I cried out. Remo linked our fingers, pressing them deeper into the mattress as his mouth found mine for a kiss full of anger and dominance. When he finally stilled on top of me, my eyes moved up to my dress.
“You are mine, Angel. Body and soul,” he rasped. And God help me, he spoke the truth.
When I put the dress back on, it felt like a sacrilege wearing something so pure and white. Goose bumps rippled across my skin when the heavy fabric settled around my legs. I stared down at the layers of tulle, the blood stains and tears. Had I really chosen this dress? Had I ever felt comfortable wearing it?
Remo regarded me with a hard expression. “I still remember the first time I saw you in it.”
I didn’t say anything.
Remo reached for my engagement ring on the nightstand, and the little hairs on my neck rose. He stopped right in front of me and took my hand then slid the ring on with a twisted smile. “This marks you as Danilo’s, doesn’t it?”
I stared at him fiercely, unyieldingly because he knew the mark he had left went deeper than an expensive ring. Something in Remo’s eyes shifted, a flicker in his harsh mask, yet he still held my hand. He released me abruptly and stepped back. “Danilo will be delighted to get you back.”
“I’m not the girl I used to be.”
Remo’s gaze hit me like a sledgehammer, but he didn’t say anything, even though I wanted … needed him to.
Up until the very end, I was convinced Remo would keep me. I kept denying the truth until I was faced with the result of my sins: the exhausted faces of my family and fiancé.
They waited in the abandoned parking lot. Dad, Dante, Danilo. Samuel wasn’t there, and I knew it was because he would have lost it. Behind them on the ground lay a tied up man, probably Fabiano’s father. His back was turned to me so I couldn’t be sure.
Their eyes were drawn upward toward one of the buildings, and when Remo pulled me out of the car, I found the reason why. Nino was perched on the roof as a sniper. Fabiano got out of the car as well, his own gun drawn.
Remo led me a few steps away from the car. Then he stopped. “You were very ill-advised attacking our territory, Dante,” he said pleasantly, his grip on my hip tight as he held me against his body. My eyes lingered on the ground because my guilt sat so heavily on my shoulders I couldn’t find the courage to meet the gazes of the men who’d come to save me. The white fabric of my dress seemed to mock me, and I focused on the bloodstains.
Bracing myself, I finally raised my head and wished I hadn’t.
Nothing had ever hurt worse than the look on Dad’s face. He took in my bloody dress, the bruises on my throat where Remo had marked me over and over again. Remo had made his claiming of me as apparent as possible, flaunted it in front of everyone, and it had the desired effect. Uncle Dante, my fiancé Danilo, and my father regarded me as if they had been gutted. Remo’s ultimate triumph.
I wanted to scream at them that I hadn’t suffered the way they thought I had, wished they would hate me, but I wasn’t brave enough for the truth.
“Next time you consider fucking with us, look at your niece, Dante, and remember how you failed her.”
Dante’s face was stone, but there was a flicker of something dark in his eyes.
I couldn’t meet their eyes. Burning shame sliced through me at what I had let Remo do, at what I had done. What I had wanted to do, what I still wanted to do.
Remo leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. “I own you, Angel. Remember that. You gave me a part of yourself and you’ll never get it back. It’s mine no matter what happens next.”
Dante, Danilo, and my father looked on the verge of attacking, their body’s tense, expressions twisted with hatred and fury. They wanted to protect me when I no longer wanted saving, couldn’t be saved because I was irrevocably lost.
I turned my head slightly, meeting Remo’s cold gaze. “I’m not the only one who lost something,” I whispered. “You gave me part of your cruel black heart, Remo, and one day you will realize it.”
Something flashed in Remo’s eyes. Those cruel eyes that haunted his victims’ nightmares … how long would they haunt me? Especially all the times they hadn’t looked upon me with cruelty or hatred but with a far more terrifying emotion.
Then he tore his gaze away from me to stare at my uncle. All I could think was that he hadn’t denied my words. I had Remo’s cruel black heart and maybe that was the most painful realization of all.
“Hand over Scuderi,” he said.
Dante gripped the rope that coiled tightly around a struggling Scuderi and dragged him toward us. I’d known my uncle all my life, but I’d never seen that look on his face. Utter fury and regret. He thrust Scuderi to the ground halfway toward us. “Release my niece, now,” he ordered.
Remo chuckled. This was a trick. This had to be a trick. Remo had said it himself: I was his. He owned me. Body and soul. He wouldn’t let me go. The worst was that deep down I hoped he wouldn’t—and not just because I didn’t want to live among the family I’d betrayed so horribly, but also because the idea that he could give me up so easily tore at me.
His dark eyes locked on mine, possessive and triumphant, and he leaned down. For a heart stopping moment I was sure he’d kiss me right in front of everyone, but his lips lightly grazed my cheek before they stopped at my ear. “I never thought you’d give me this look on the day I released you— as if giving you freedom is the worst betrayal of all. You shouldn’t want someone to cage you in. You should long for freedom.” He exhaled, his hot breath against my skin making me shiver. “Goodbye, Serafina.”
Remo released me then shoved me away from him. I stumbled forward, away from him, my heart thundering in my chest. Strong hands grabbed me and quickly ushered me away from Remo. I walked toward my family, my fiancé—freedom—but it didn’t feel anything like being free.
Dante was beside me and Danilo stepped toward me, reached for me, and I flinched, feeling unworthy of his touch after I’d betrayed him, betrayed the Outfit with Remo. Dante and my father both tensed, and Danilo lowered his arm and stepped back from me with a look full of utter hatred toward Remo. But Remo’s expression was the worst because when I met his gaze I knew what it said.
I own you.
I half fell into my father’s arms, and he hugged me tightly, whispering words of consolation that I didn’t catch, pulling me away toward their car. My eyes weren’t on him.
Fabiano loaded his father into the back of the car before he got in. With another glance at me, Remo followed and drove away. Drove away.
And again I shivered because part of me, the part that terrified me most, missed Remo.
I own you.
He did.
Dad got into the back of the car with me, still hugging me to his chest and stroking my hair, and a new wave of guilt overcame me. Dante got behind the wheel, and Danilo sat beside him. My fiancé glanced at me through the rearview mirror, and I ducked my head, my cheeks flaming with shame.
“You are safe now, Fina. Nothing will ever happen to you again. I’m sorry, dove. I’m so sorry,” Dad whispered against my hair, and I realized he was crying. My father. A Made Man since his teenage days. Underboss of Minneapolis. He was crying into my hair, right in front of his Capo and my fiancé, and I fell apart. I clutched his jacket and cried, ugly cried, for the first time since I could remember, and my father hugged me even tighter.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped out, broken words full of despair. Words weren’t enough to convey the extent of my sins. Of my betrayal.
“No,” he growled. “No, Fina, no.” He shook, his grip painful.
“Remo … he … I.”
Dad cupped my head. “It’s over. It’s over now, Fina. I swear, one day I’ll hunt him down. I will kill him for what he did to you … for … for hurting you.”
I swallowed. He thought Remo had raped me. They all did, and I couldn’t tell him the truth, was too cowardly to tell him. Closing my eyes, I rested my cheek against his chest. Dad held me tightly, rocking me like a little girl, like he could restore my innocence by doing so.
Would the truth set him free? Set them all free or would it break them worse? I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
REMO
Fabiano kept tossing glances at his father resting on the backrest of the car, looking fucking eager to tear into the man.
“Your plan really worked. You crushed the fucking Outfit,” Fabiano said, turning to me. I stared at the road. The triumph I’d been working toward, destroying the Outfit from within, I held it in my hands. I’d seen it on the faces of my enemies. I knew they’d keep suffering.
Fabiano shifted in his seat. “Remo, you realize we won, right? We got my father. Your insane plan worked.”
“Yeah, my plan worked …”
“Then why—” Fabiano’s eyes widened.
My grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“We can try kidnapping her again. It worked once, who’s to say it won’t work again,” he said almost incredulously.
“No,” I said harshly. “Serafina doesn’t belong in captivity.”
Fabiano shook his head. “They will marry her off to Danilo. Even if you spoiled the goods, she’s still Cavallaro’s niece, and Danilo would be foolish to refuse a marriage because she isn’t a virgin anymore.”
I wanted to kill someone, wanted to spill blood. “She won’t marry him.”
“Remo—”
“Not another word, Fabiano, or I swear you won’t get a chance to rip your father to shreds because I will and then maybe do the same to you.”
He sank back into the seat with a frown. “Should I call Nino?”
“We’ll see him in five fucking minutes,” I growled. “Now shut the fuck up.”
We met at the Sugar Trap. Fabiano dragged his father down into the basement while I sat down at the bar. Jerry put a bottle of brandy and a glass down in front of me without a word.
Nino joined me after a couple of minutes. “Matteo and Romero’s plane arrived thirty minutes ago. They’ll be here soon.”
“Good. A sign of goodwill for Luca.”
“He still isn’t happy about the kidnapping. But now that we gave Serafina back and give his brother and Captain a chance to partake in the torture, he’ll probably come back around. We don’t need a conflict with the Famiglia. The Outfit will start attacking viciously soon enough.”
“Set up a cage fight for me. Two opponents. Death match. Tomorrow. The day after at the latest.”
Nino grasped my shoulder. “Remo. We can’t have you play with your life now. We need you strong.”
I stood and gave him a twisted smile. “If you want me strong, give me someone to kill. I want blood. I want to maim and kill. And I’m not risking my life. I will fucking obliterate every fucking person who enters the fucking cage as my opponent.”
“It won’t make you miss her any less.”
I lunged at him in blinding rage. For the first time in my fucking life, I attacked my brother. Nino blocked my fist and took a step back, and I jerked to a halt, stopping myself after realizing what I was doing. My chest heaved as I stared into my brother’s cautious gray eyes.
Jerry had run off and a moment later Fabiano stormed inside but froze when he saw me and Nino facing each other, standing almost chest to chest.
“Fuck,” I rasped, taking a step back. I held out my arm, tattoo on display, my palm up. A silent apology, the only one I was capable of. Fabiano turned back around, leaving us alone. Nino linked our arms, my hand on his tattoo, on his scars, and his palm on mine.
“You walked through fire for me, Remo,” he said quietly, imploringly, “but you should know, I’d do the same for you. I wouldn’t have asked you to send her back if I’d known … And I’ll walk straight into Outfit territory for you and get her back if that’s what you want.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“She won’t return to you of her own free will.”
“Then so be it. Now find someone I can kill and set up the fucking death match.”
Nino squeezed my arm then released me.
“I think for the first time in my life I envy you your lack of emotions.”
