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“Let this be…” He smacks his palm against my buttocks, and I let out a loud, strangled cry. He smacks me again, harder thistime, as if punishing me for forgetting what he only just told me today. The sharp sting of pain races through my brain, but it’s not just pain. It’s a desperate kind of pleasure. “… a warning of just what I’ll do to you the next time you choose to be stubborn.”

Another smack rocks my body backward on impulse. A tear escapes my eye at the pain, but then Remo begins rubbing the sting away gently as if he knows he just hit me a little too hard. When he pushes his fingers beneath me to press against my folds, he lets out a low growl that reverberates deep within him.

“You’re so fucking wet again,” he groans. And that’s all it takes for him to slam his cock inside me. I don’t even know when he took off his pants. His thrusts are fast, deep, and burning, but he doesn’t stop.

My hips begin to move, matching his thrusts until we’re rocking together, chasing our orgasms. My body builds higher and higher, and I reach down to the top of my pussy and draw tight circles around my clit, my fingers thrumming over the sensitive bud.

“Fucking hell, your pussy is squeezing my dick so well, Dolcezza.” He throws his head back, his body stilling, and then he shudders when he bites my neck. “You belong to me, Daniela. Me alone, you hear me?”

“Yes…yes, I’m yours,” I moan.

Later, I’ll probably berate myself for agreeing with his words, but for now, I can’t seem to care. I just want him to fuck me without restraint. He pounds into me, growling with each thrust. “You’re so tight. Fuck, this feels good.”

“Please…don’t stop…”

We reach the peak together, the sounds in the room raw and unrestrained. Remo spills onto my skin. It’s messy, but I don’t mind. As he adjusts his clothes, his voice is distant, almost bored, when he tells me to clean myself up.

The coldness of his words cuts through everything that just happened, reminding me just how much I hate him.

Chapter 11

Remo

I adjust my tie in the mirror, checking my reflection once more. The dark suit fits perfectly. The shoulders are broad, and the collar is stiff. I look nothing like the man I am, like the man I’ve become. But that’s the point.

Marco, dressed similarly, is already at the door, checking his gun. His usual smirk is nowhere to be seen. He’s all business tonight.

“You sure about this, Boss?” he asks. “We could use more men.”

I don’t take my eyes off my reflection in the mirror, but I feel his stare on me. He knows the kind of situation we’re walking into. It’s too delicate to mess up.

I let out a breath. “I want to be as inconspicuous as possible. Trailing in with a bunch of armed guys in suits isn’t exactly the definition of subtle, now, is it?”

Marco doesn’t argue. He knows better. Especially tonight. No room for flashy shows of power or threats that don’t need to be made.

“Marco,” I say, “you handle the logistics on the ground. Livia, stay on the systems. Keep everything tight.” Then, turning toward the door, I growl, “Let’s move.”

As I step into the hallway, my eyes glance at the room where Daniela is, isolated, with two of my men posted by the door.

My voice is harsh when I look at them and say, “Make sure she’s safe. No matter what. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

They give me a quick nod. It’s all just a precaution, but it feels like more. I’m controlling things even when I’m not there.I made sure to set up a hidden camera in her room because watching her and knowing what she’s doing, even when I’m not around, calms me in a sick, twisted way.

It’s all just a way to pretend I’m in control. To pretend I’m not losing my grip.

With that, I head for the door. My car’s waiting, the engine already rumbling. Livia and Marco are in the front, ready to move.

“We’ll get close,” I say in a hard voice, pushing the thought of Daniela aside for now. “Angelo’s smart. He’ll have people watching, so stay sharp. Don’t let anyone see us coming.”

They don’t say anything. They don’t need to. We’ve been through this too many times.

We’re heading for a wedding reception tucked away in some private estate. Angelo’s daughter is getting married, so it’s the perfect cover for a quiet strike.

I should be focused on that, but as we drive through the dark streets, I can’t stop thinking about her. Daniela.

What the hell is she doing? Is she okay?

Part of me—the part that’s been hardened by this life—wants to dismiss it all. Wants to pretend I’m not losing my mind over a woman. But the other part of me—the part I don’t show anyone—wants to just drop everything and rush back to her.