Chapter 14: Defiance arouses him
She chooses to test me. Why? Why would she do it? She talks back to me and then it's written all over her face, regret. But how does she find the courage to do it in the first place? It's like she doesn't even mean to do it.
I walk into my bathroom as Belle showers. I listen to her humming a beautiful tune.
"Gattina," I call out and she immediately stops, coughing a little. There's only a shower curtain that hides her naked body from me.
"Sir?" I smirk a little at the title she calls me.
"I need you to come to a meeting with my father today," I declare. "Belle, come here."
"I'm... indecent," she mumbles and I hold back my chuckles.
"I know, piccola. That's the point," I tease. But in a random act of mercy, I hold out a towel for her to take once she's finished.
She does look so fucking good, her chocolate hair soaked but flowing, her upper breasts spilling over the top of the purposefully small towel I gave her and her long legs as smooth as silk. I can see my fingermarks imprinted on her neck, and although I love seeing my marks on her, it's not those marks I want. I don't want to hurt her, but I can't control my anger sometimes. No wonder she's so reluctant to give in to me, she's scared of the attraction she feels for me.
"You'll wear the dress I laid out on the bed," I tell her, admiring her body.
"I don't want to go," she mutters, lowering her eyes for some reason. I scoff at her defiance. There is no other explanation for this than her trying to provoke me. Why doesn't she want to go?
"Why?" I question in a louder, more dominating tone.
"I-I... I'm scared," she whispers, shivering. Maybe it's because she's cold as well, but she's scared? She sounds convincing. Why would she be scared? Maybe she's heard of my father, heard stories of the things he had done. I wouldn't blame her for being scared. I lift her chin so her baby blue eyes meet mine. She's not even afraid of me, not truly. Yet she's telling me she's scared of a man she's never met.
"You're coming," I state firmly, taking the towel in my hand and looking at her daringly. "Or I drop the towel." She whimpers a little, hearing my threat and backs down. I caress her cheek, stroking my finger down her soft cheek. I then grip the back of her neck, pulling her closer to me as I look down at her. I love that I'm so much taller than her, that I can dominate her just by height, that now I'm looking down, her in a towel, I can see more of those breasts I love so much. "Why are you scared, neonata?"
“I’m always scared,” she replies in a melancholy tone, pouting slightly in sadness. She’s not always scared. She can’t be. She doesn’t show it, not really. I see her anxiety, but not fear, never fear. Unless she’s hidden it so well, even I, the master of fear and intimdiation, cannot see it, which I highly doubt.
“Don’t be scared,” I say but then I realize it sounds more like an order in the tone I use. I wanted it to be comforting, I don’t know why, but I couldn’t do comforting anyway. My list for her is the closest thing, acting like keeping her close is for her comfort when it’s to satisfy my hunger slightly.
“You can’t order people to feel or not feel emotions,” she mumbles, looking straight ahead, at my chest. She knows I can hear her. Yet she talks back to me anyway. Even though she claims to be scared. “I’m not your puppet,” she dares to state. I feel my rage rising at her statement, how she dares to challenge me. Perhaps I’ve been to kind to her.
“You’re not my puppet, no,” I hiss with danger in my voice. I grab her jaw as I do when I want to make a point and tug her closer to me so our bodies are touching. “But you are mine. You’ll do well to remember that before you talk to me in that tone.”
“Why are you so controlling?" she yells, slapping my chest lightly with her hand in frustration. I slam her body so hard up against the wall that it makes a thud as she hits it. My hand wraps around her neck and jaw and I breathe onto her. I am beyond furious, she has pushed me beyond all bounds of composure.
"I'm controlling because you're mine to control. You're mine... to see." I tug her towel and it drops from her gorgeous body, leaving me to stare at her with lust. But I notice the faint scars covering her back and torso. Still she is beautiful. "You're mine to touch." My hands snake up and down her body, along the curves of her outline, and inwards to her inner thighs. "You're mine to taste." I smash my lips against hers, gripping onto her ass as her back arches from the wall. I shove my down in and down her throat, attacking her mouth with rage and passion. I break away, her chest rising and falling heavily in front of me. "You. Are. Mine," I exclaim, pushing her back against the wall with my body and slamming my hands either side of her, flat on the wall. "You're not going to that meeting. You've been a bad girl. When I get back, I'm going to fucking punish you. I've been too kind to you. But I'll do whatever I want with what's mine." I smirk smugly and viciously at her. She looks as if she's about to cry but I notice a glimmer flash in her eyes, a different type of emotion across her face.
I leave her, naked in front of me and feel myself straining against my slacks. Her defiance arouses my greatly, as much as it builds my rage. But I do have a meeting with my father, as much as I would like to enjoy her punishment. It gives me time to think up all the cruel ways I can. She'll never want to defy me like that again. I exit the room and set up downstairs, waiting with my brothers for my father's arrival.
"Where's Belle?" Luca asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Not coming," I state curtly, my face scowling athough I want to keep it emotionless. She knew she was testing me. She knew how far she was going. She was barely fazed when I dropped that towel. Maybe she wanted to see how far she could push me. Maybe she likes being punished.
"Why?" Leo questions, a little smirk on his face.
"None of your fucking business," I growl.
"You haven't killed her, have you? I don't want a rotting corpse in our quarters. I kinda like Belle too," Rafael teases although I sense he was serious asking the question. He wouldn't put it past me to kill her if she infuriated me. And I did feel an inclination to. But there's something about her that draws me to her, makes me want her, to own her, to mark her, to control her. She's smart, which is something I find interesting. I've never seen anyone think in the type of way she does. But today, that's not like her. She's smarter than that. I know she is. And she knew she was aggravating me and kept on going. Why?
I just grunt in response and in that moment, my father, Antonio Calabria, waltzes in. My brothers stand up to greet him, but I stay in my seat, nodding my head to him. I am, after all, the head of this family now, since my father had chosen to retire a couple of years ago. In a short time, I managed to assert my complete authority after he stepped down which was a challenge, even though I was working under my father when he was boss.
Everyone takes a seat and my father sighs, looking over at me.
"Moretti is a problem," he states, as if I didn't already know that. We have a mole, Moretti is growing stronger, and they already had a strong following with Christian in charge. With Alfonso, he's just as ruthless. I wouldn't have wanted to marry the spawn of the devil, Christian's daughter. The children of the mafia, they're either ruthless bitches and bastards, or they are entitled fuckers, as they have been given the word. It's just how it works out.
"I know that. We're trying to find the mole. It's either Dante or Giovanni. We're interrogating them to find out. In the meantime, we're playing his game. Someone on the inside, feeding us information. We've raided two of their drops so far."
"Good. Very good. It looks like you're handling it. But you know I wanted you to marry that Moretti girl. She's still missing."
"She'll most likely be dead. And I wouldn't marry the enemy. I never even met her."
"But I did," he says with a smirk but when he sees my scowling face, he stops teasing me. I don't need a fucking queen by my side, some entitled bitch thinking that I can't hurt her because of her daddy or uncle. She probably is dead.
Once my meeting finishes up, I head back to my room, ready to give mea gattina her punishment.