Snapping Point

12.

Clearly, I'd gotten too cozy with the people around me. Saving women from my boss's grip. Handpicking my so-called "bride" from the goddamn airport. Keeping mouth closed about the idiotic marriage pact with my family. And to top it off, catching a resounding slap from this one.

Enough was enough.

Playing nice? That was the first thing I thought to crush.

I'd already started my little makeover with Luciana. Letting go of her hair, I shoved her aside and stomped away, ignoring her pathetic pleas for me to come back. I could practically feel her heartbeat racing as she trailed after me like a lost puppy.

The urge to get the hell out of the house was overwhelming. But then again, maybe it was time to give my fiancée a crash course in what a marriage of convenience really looked like.

I sauntered back to her and shoved her against the wall. Her bra practically came undone at the flick of my finger. "Take it off," I said, my tone brooking no argument. She obeyed. Her hands moved to remove her underwear, but I stopped her with a sharp tap. "You only do what I tell you to."

Luciana shot me a worried glance before nodding, her expression a mix of apprehension and exhaustion. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as I traced my fingers along her thighs, daring her to betray a hint of pleasure.

As my hand reached the delicate fabric of her pink underwear, I couldn't help but notice how fragile it seemed. With a wicked satisfaction burning in my chest, I twisted it around my finger, tasting the satisfying snap as it came loose and crumbled to the floor. It left a fucking red imprint of my aggression.

A wicked grin spread across my face. "Do you want this?" I demanded, not because I needed her consent for my actions, but because even in my darkest moments, I wasn't about to stoop to that level: teaching her to survive rape. "Do you want me to fuck you, or do you want me to leave?"

I knew she could never choose the latter. I dared her to, knowing full well the consequences. I'd disappeared before when we clashed, not speaking to her for days until she left for Costa Rica a few weeks ago. Manipulation came naturally to me, but refraining from using it on her didn't make me weak or stupid—it made me different.

But then again, being different now seemed like a crime.

"Don't leave," she pleaded, but her words didn't beg for sex. Christ, this woman was so damn naive, I'd expect her to bring a spoon to a gunfight.

Heedless of her exposure to the savagery of the crime family's men, she couldn't handle a fraction of my unbridled brutality. And tonight, I'd make damn sure she understood that.

"Get me a condom," my order left no room for delay. My eyes followed her as she obediently retrieved one from the shelf and returned to me.

She stood frozen in place when she came closer, attempting to meet my gaze with a fierceness I didn't know her to have. I allowed her the satisfaction. "You're just going to jump right into it? No foreplay, no—?"

"Don't even say lovemaking or I'll lose my lunch on this floor."

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "But at least make sure I'm ready so it doesn't hurt."

I let out a harsh laugh, feeling the ache in my chest afterward. I wrapped my hand around her neck, applying just enough pressure to make a point. "The last time we fucked, I was just Romano. But now, I'm the Head Honcho. I don't have the time or patience to indulge your fantasies, sweetheart. But I'll give you the option to prepare yourself," I sneered, crushing her last shred of dignity. "If you're so desperate to get wet, I'll wait here while you take care of it yourself."