Sunlight filtered through the reinforced windows of the penthouse, casting long golden beams across the black silk sheets. Liora woke slowly, her body heavy and aching in the most intimate places. Every muscle protested as she shifted, reminders of the long, punishing night Vittorio had spent reminding her exactly who she belonged to.
She was still naked, curled against his chest, one of his powerful arms draped possessively over her waist. His breathing was deep and even — the only time the ruthless Don ever looked almost peaceful. But even in sleep, his hand rested between her thighs, fingers lightly cupping her as if to ensure she couldn't slip away again.
Liora's cheeks burned as memories flooded back. The elevator. The bed. The way he had taken her over and over until she was sobbing his name and begging for mercy she didn't truly want. The way he had filled her so completely that she could still feel the evidence of him leaking slowly between her legs.
Shame twisted in her stomach. She had run. She had chosen her brother. And yet here she was — back in the devil's bed, her body marked and claimed, her heart treacherously content in his arms.
She tried to slip out from under his arm, but the movement woke him instantly. Vittorio's steel-gray eyes opened, sharp and alert despite the early hour. His grip tightened, pulling her back against him.
"Going somewhere?" he murmured, voice rough with sleep and lingering possession. His hand slid higher between her thighs, fingers brushing her sensitive folds. "After last night, I thought you'd learned your lesson."
Liora shivered at his touch, her body responding even as her mind rebelled. "I… I need to use the bathroom."
He studied her face for a long moment, searching for any sign of defiance. Then he released her with obvious reluctance. "Don't take too long. We're not finished yet."
She escaped to the ensuite bathroom on shaky legs, locking the door behind her. Leaning against the sink, she stared at her reflection. Her lips were swollen, her neck and breasts bore faint love bites and finger marks, and her eyes looked haunted — a mixture of lingering pleasure and deep guilt.
What had she done?
She had betrayed Luca. Betrayed her own blood. All for the man who had bought her like property and was now slowly rewriting her soul.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
"Liora." Vittorio's voice was calm but commanding. "Come out. Now."
She opened the door. He stood there completely naked, his powerful body on full display — scarred, tattooed, and undeniably beautiful in its lethality. His cock was already half-hard again, as if the night hadn't been enough.
He didn't speak. Instead, he took her hand and led her back to the bed, pushing her gently onto her back. He settled between her spread thighs, his weight pinning her down.
"Last night was punishment," he said quietly, eyes locked on hers. "Today is the lesson."
He entered her slowly this time — deep, deliberate strokes that made her gasp and arch beneath him. There was no anger now, only relentless possession. He moved inside her with patient intensity, watching every flicker of emotion on her face.
"Tell me who you belong to," he demanded softly, grinding against her clit with each thrust.
"You," Liora whispered, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. "I belong to you."
"Louder."
"I belong to you, Vittorio."
He rewarded her with a deeper thrust, his mouth claiming hers in a slow, possessive kiss. The rhythm built gradually until she was clinging to him, moaning into his mouth as another orgasm crashed over her. Vittorio followed soon after, spilling inside her with a low groan, marking her once again.
Afterward, he didn't pull away. He stayed buried inside her, holding her close as their breathing slowed.
"You're not my prisoner anymore, Liora," he murmured against her hair. "You're my woman. My obsession. My future. But if you ever run again…"
He lifted his head, eyes hard.
"I will hunt you down, chain you to this bed, and fuck you until the only name you remember is mine. Do you understand?"
She nodded, voice small. "I understand."
He kissed her forehead almost tenderly. "Good. Now shower. Maria will bring breakfast. Then we talk about your brother."
Liora's heart clenched at the mention of Luca. "What are you going to do to him?"
Vittorio's expression darkened. "That depends on you. Behave… and he lives. Continue to test me… and he becomes an example."
He finally pulled out of her and stood, offering his hand. "Come. The lesson isn't over yet."
As they showered together — his hands gentle now, washing her body with surprising care — Liora realized the terrifying truth.
She wasn't fighting to escape anymore.
She was fighting not to fall completely.
And she was losing.